#i know different authors different stories

[wormspoodle]

okay. au thing (?) i needed to get out of my head (its been sitting there for 2 months) its pretty half baked so bear with me

more context/ drawings under the cut:

im not sure if this has been done before, im pretty out of it fandom wise,, but!! this takes place during "Time Traveler's Pig" (s1 ep9)

the idea is that, while fighting over the time tape, dipper and mabel end up running into krampus and henceforth get taken by the krampus and the time tape gets dropped/ left behind in the process (classic)

ford hears the ruckus ofc and goes to investigate like he does in tbob j3 pages and also gets taken by krampus,, dipper and mabel see him and assume it must be a young stan or something bc at this point in the show they don't know anything!

they've never met bill, they only really know/remember mcgucket from the gobblewonker, and they don't know stan has a brother

so they just assume life was hard on stan and he looks different because he's younger (something still feels off to them ofc)

anyway story proceeds how it does in canon, ford is arguing at the krampus while dipper and mabel remember that they dropped the time tape and are also trying to plot a way out, mcgucket shows up and saves the day, and because dipper and mabel don't really know where to go from here, they decide to see if that guy is stan (which he is but not the one they're thinking of)

they all make their way back to the lab/shack for the time being, dipper and mabel find the time tape on the way back and it's damaged (another classic) so ford and mcgucket will have to fix it ofc

some conversations are exchanged, information is gleaned, dipper and mabel watch tv to pass the time and end up seeing on of stan's commercials on the tv and the dots start to slowly connect that something is going on here

those are the more. fleshed out concepts, everything else is pretty vague and undecided but ill also probably never revisit this

some more details/thoughts:

- ford is wearing no winter clothes bc im assuming when he grabbed the lantern to investigate the foot prints, he didn't think much and just threw on his boots or something, which is why he has to take refuge in that cave to stave off frostbite

- dipper and mabel don't connect that old man mcgucket is fiddleford mcgucket bc i don't think they a) think about mcgucket that much to make that connection at this point and b) assume he's just related and not the same person given how old old man mcgucket looks

-dipper does have the journal on him but he's keeping it hidden ofc just in case,, after they find out about stan he'd find out ford is the author probably but i don't want him figuring it out beforehand bc it would complicate things (i also don't think hed show ford his journal bc of. time/ space continuum reasons

- maybe bill will show up or something i dunno. dipper and mabel are armed with the j3 that knows bill is dangerous but they've also never met bill

- idk if they'll find out about the portal, idk if mabel will try and bring stan and ford together, idk what happens,, maybe the time police catch them before they do anything,, shrugging my shoulders

-this au doesn't really have a point i just wanted to draw it bc its fun for me to think about the implications !!

[dayscapism]

I mean, yes, you can always see the influence of the author's personal life on their work. Sure, this SA case and his childhood puts Ocean at the End of the Lane into a different perspective. And you can say whatever you want about Sandman Calliope. And sure, many other "hints" that can probably be discussed post fact. But no, the "signs" weren't always there. None of this "we should have known" or worse "I always knew he was fishy." You're not an oracle, shut up. None of us are.

We don't know a writer's entire life from their work. Not even in retrospect. We can see some connections and how their background affects what they write, but that's pretty much it. That's what we do with classics, we analyze the author's life and historical context against their work. But that's about it. We can't make a psychological diagnosis or infer criminal activity from the work alone. This isn't criminal minds.

Maybe the stories gave you the ick or something, but stop pretending you always knew the extent of it. Predators can show a nice face to us, be kind, be charming, fool us, and still hunt when we aren't looking. That's rape culture and that's what this patriarchal society is built like.

i don't really want to see this retconning of neil gaiman's writing where people are re-analyzing stories like "look...you can see the message under the surface...showing how he was actually abusive IRL...it's all there..."

idk maybe we should just listen to people when they speak up and say they were abused and try to foster a culture of respecting victims and actually enforcing justice against perpetrators instead of doing this weird fucking da vinci code-esque picking apart of his stories. stories which everyone was fine with for decades!! because we understand that the content that people write and produce does not have a 1 to 1 correlation with their real world actions!!!

i fully support people who cannot engage with his work anymore and i do think that because he's a still-living person it's imperative to not give this guy another cent, but we cannot pretend that everyone was just "too dumb" to see the secret clues and turn this into another case of "what you write is what you endorse." plenty of dogshit people write good stories. plenty of good people write dark stories. that's all.

[maretinelli]

A NON-SEPARATION²

DadLewis Hamilton X Mom!fem!reader

Summary: When Lewis and the girls return from their trip, and things with Y/n start to improve. And then, he confesses something that was on his mind during the days they were apart.

Words: 5.8K+

Warnings: Mentions of the past fight, Lewis being a loving husband, Pietra being very funny, Marie's cuteness and a happy ending.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. You can request stories on my profile, in questions. By the way, I loved writing for these four, if you want, I can make a parallel world and write more stories about this family!!!!! (Comment if you want, so I know)

Part 1

MASTERLIST

The weekend passed more quickly than Y/n expected. With Anne in town, she had a chance to take her mind off things, even though the silence in the house still bothered her. They went out to lunch, watched movies, and talked about everything but Lewis—at least until the last day, when Y/n finally admitted that she missed him. Anne wasn’t surprised, but she didn’t press her either.

Meanwhile, Lewis and the girls had an emotional weekend. The race was intense, and the girls cheered in the Ferrari garage alongside grandma Carmen, cheering for their father.

Pietra, always spontaneous, made a point of shouting "Go, daddy!" right in the middle of the post-race interview, making the journalists laugh. Marie, more reserved, just covered her face with her hands, pretending she didn't know her sister.

Now it was Tuesday, and Y/n had already returned to her routine—or at least she tried to. She was on vacation from the office, Anne had already left, and the big house was silent again. Too silent.

She had never spent so much time away from her daughters, and every corner of the house felt empty without them. Roscoe was her only company, but not even the dog could fill the void left by Marie and Pietra. And, of course, by Lewis.

Y/n sighed, sitting on the couch, fiddling with her phone without really paying attention. But suddenly, a loud horn echoed through the condominium, and she practically jumped off the couch, running to the door. Roscoe ran after her, knowing exactly who had arrived.

Opening the door, Y/n saw the two girls getting out of the car, their faces lit up with huge smiles.

Marie wore the denim jacket she had asked her mother to pack, paired with her black pants and white sneakers. Always stylish and authentic. Pietra, on the other hand, well, she looked different. Very different.

The sparkly dress was expected. But braids in her hair?

Yes. The same braids Lewis wore.

Y/n's eyes widened, holding back a laugh as Pietra and Marie ran to hug her. She bent down, wrapping her arms around her daughters, feeling their familiar scent.

"I missed you guys so much" She murmured, closing her eyes.

"We miss you too, Mommy!" Marie replied, squeezing her tighter.

In the middle of the hug, Y/n looked up and found Lewis. He was leaning against the car, watching the scene with a smile. And God, how handsome he was. How handsome he IS.

His eyes lit up when he saw his wife looking at him like that, and he smiled even wider when she whispered a brief "Hi."

Lewis returned the greeting with a loving look, but then Y/n looked at Pietra's braids again. She arched an eyebrow and pointed at her youngest daughter's hair, exchanging an amused look with Lewis.

He just laughed and gestured with his hand, signaling that he would explain later.

Marie pulled out of the hug and looked at her sister. "Grandma took Pietra to the salon and she wanted to do the same as daddy."

"Exactly the same!" Pietra said excitedly, bending down to pet Roscoe.

Y/n smiled, running her fingers through Marie's straight hair. "And you, my love? You look beautiful in that jacket." Marie smiled shyly and pulled her mother into another hug.

Y/n melted. Since the girls were born, it was like this: Marie was her shadow, and Pietra was her father's copy. Even though physically the two had inherited more of Lewis's features, their personalities balanced everything out.

Suddenly, Pietra looked up at her mother, excited. "Daddy bought you flowers, Mommy!"

Lewis rolled his eyes near the car, while Yin looked at her daughter and then at him, holding back a laugh.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes! And they're red flowers and they have a pretty bow and..."

"PIETRA!" Marie and Lewis said together. The girl's tone was one of authority, her father's was one of amusement.

Lewis chuckled, shaking his head. "That little girl needs to learn how to keep secrets."

Y/n laughed, standing up, but still keeping one hand in Marie's hair. Pietra, oblivious to the small chaos she caused, ran with Roscoe into the house.

Marie looked up at her mother. "I'll go in too."

Y/n kissed the top of her head. "It's okay, love."

As Marie entered, Y/n looked at her eldest daughter and then, Lewis finally approached. He was holding a beautiful bouquet of red roses. Y/n's favorites.

He handed it to her, his gaze soft. "I know a bouquet can't fix everything...but I want you to remember that I still love you very much."

Y/n's heart sank. She held the flowers tenderly, inhaling their scent and blinking back a few tears. "Thank you, Lew. They're beautiful." There was a brief silence between the two, just the soft wind blowing through the garden. "Do you want to come in and talk about it?"

He hesitated for a moment, as if choosing the right words. His gaze softened, and the way he held his car keys indicated he was more nervous than he wanted to show.

"I don't want to talk about this here, with the girls around," he said, his voice filled with genuine regret. "I want to do this right, without rushing, without distractions. I want to take you out to dinner, like before. So we can have some time alone."

There was something vulnerable in his expression, a mixture of guilt and a sincere desire to make amends for whatever harm he had caused. As much as they had both said hurtful words, he clearly carried the weight of it in a deeper way.

Y/n felt her chest warm, gripping the bouquet tighter. Lewis had never been good with words when it came to deep feelings, but she knew that when he tried like that, it was because it really meant something.

He didn't just want to settle the fight. He wanted to reaffirm that, despite everything, the love between them was still unshakable.

Y/n took a deep breath and nodded, her voice as soft as his. "I'd also rather we not talk about this in front of the girls."

Lewis nodded silently, and Y/n stepped aside, making room in the doorway for him to enter.

But he smiled and shook his head. "Actually, I just came to drop off the girls and the bags. My dad is in town with Linda, we planned to meet up."

Y/n smiled slightly, knowing that Lewis didn't see his father that often and that those moments were important.

However, he sighed and ran his hand over the back of his neck, suddenly looking uneasy. "But I promised that nothing would be more important than you. That I would pay more attention to you and the girls." He began to stumble over his words nervously. "If you want, I'll cancel. It's no problem, really. I-"

Y/n's eyes widened, smiling at his sudden rambling. She gently reached up and touched Lewis's face, calming him down. "Lew, it's okay," She said, looking deep into his eyes. "Your father and Linda are your family too. They deserve priority sometimes."

Lewis blinked, absorbing her words, before letting out a small sigh of relief. A grateful smile appeared on his face.

"Thank you, love."

The nickname came out so natural and full of affection that Y/n felt her heart beat faster.

It was as if he were truly giving himself over, breaking the distance that had formed between them over the past few days. The way he called her, with the softness and vulnerability that touched her so much, made her feel reconnected to him, as if everything that had happened up until that moment was something temporary, a storm that would soon pass.

Before they could say anything else, Pietra shouted something inside, making them both laugh.

Y/n laughed and shook her head, calling out, "Marie, help your sister with whatever she's asking for, please!"

Lewis smiled and went to the car to get the girls' bags, placing them in the entrance hall. When he returned, he approached his wife and placed a light kiss on her cheek.

“You’re free tomorrow night” He said, a twinkle in his eye. “I already have some restaurant ideas for us.”

Y/n smiled. "I'll stay."

Lewis gave one last smile before leaving, and Y/n closed the door, now surrounded by the sound of her daughters' cute laughter echoing through the house. But even so, she felt like something was still missing. And she knew exactly what it was.

Holding the bouquet, she walked to the kitchen to put the flowers in water. The girls followed her, excited.

She smiled at the two of them, leaning slightly over the counter. "Now, girls... tell us all the cool things you did on your trip!"

••••••••••••••••••••••••

The day dawned softly, with the first rays of sunlight crossing the bedroom curtains. The house, previously silent, was filled with lively laughter and small, hurried footsteps down the hallway.

Marie and Pietra, full of energy, ran to their mother's room and, without hesitation, jumped on the bed. Roscoe, excited by the excitement, climbed right behind, wagging his tail and settling down next to Y/n.

The daughters' laughter mixed with the dog's low, happy barks, while Y/n, still sleepy, received the girls' excited hugs. She felt the warmth and love in the contact, enjoying that moment of purity before finally promising to get up.

At the mention of breakfast, the girls rushed down the hallway, eagerly leaving the room in an instant. As Y/n turned to get out of bed, her gaze fell on the empty side of the mattress. Still empty.

She knew what she wanted. And no matter what conversation they would have later, one thing was certain: she wanted Lewis back there. With her. With her daughters.

And before she could get out of bed, her cell phone beeped and a message from her husband appeared.

'Linda and my dad are excited to see the girls. They want to hang out with them tonight, and that's a good thing because we have plans later too. I'll pick you up at 7pm. Love you, babe!'

Night fell quickly and the house was silent, except for the distant sound of water running in the girls' bathroom. In the bedroom, Y/n looked at the clothing options spread out on the armchair: an elegant long dress and a more casual combination consisting of a black satin shirt, jeans and heels.

She ran her fingers through the fabric of his shirt, a soft smile playing on her lips. She felt as if she were preparing for a first date. Her heart was pounding with anticipation, something she hadn’t felt in a while. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the first time she had gone out with Lewis, all those years ago. She remembered the way he had looked at her that night, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

The sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Before she could react, a voice came from behind her. “Satin shirt and heels, Mommy.”

Y/n turned around and found Marie standing in the doorway, wrapped in a fluffy robe, with a towel too big for her head. The sight made Y/n laugh softly. Marie looked so small in the midst of so much fabric.

The girl shrugged, a shy smile on her lips. "You look beautiful in both, but I like it better when you wear a shirt. It makes you look... powerful."

Y/n let out a laugh and walked over to Marie, placing a loving hand on her shoulder. Her chest hurt a little from seeing her first baby girl grow up so fast.

"Thank you for the compliment, little one. Then I'll choose that one." She led her daughter out of the room and toward the girls' room. "Now it's your turn, Marie. Choose something just as powerful." Marie laughed and nodded, following her mother.

In the girls' room, Pietra was already wearing her going out clothes and Y/n just needed to help her put on her shoes, since she had her braids done.

As she tied her shoelaces, Y/n couldn't help but smile. The braids were still flawless, and she made a mental note to ask Lewis whose idea it had been in the first place.

She always made sure to respect her daughters’ personalities, helping them get ready with care and patience. As she adjusted Pietra’s clothes and fixed Marie’s hair, she felt grateful for those simple but loving moments.

Suddenly, the sound of a horn echoed outside. Marie and Pietra looked at each other and then looked at their mother.

"Daddy can't come yet!" Pietra exclaimed, starting to leave the room. "Mommy hasn't gotten ready yet!"

Y/n and Marie exchanged an amused look before laughing together. "It's Grandpa and Grandma Linda," Y/n said loudly, so that Pietra could hear her.

Marie smiled and left the room with her mother, she went downstairs excitedly too, happy to see Grandpa and Grandma Linda. When Y/n got to the door, Pietra was already anxious, jumping up and down.

"Open up, Mommy! Open up, Mommy!"

On the other side of the door, she heard the familiar laughter, they probably heard P's excited screams. As soon as she opened it, Pietra let out an excited little scream and threw herself into her grandfather and grandmother's arms.

Linda and Anthony laughed, hugging the little girl.

"You were really excited to see us, huh?" Linda joked.

Y/n laughs. "When Lew said you guys were coming to get them she wouldn't stop talking about you guys!"

Anthony and Linda give Y/n a warm smile as they hug their youngest granddaughter.

Marie soon joined in the group hug. "Miss you, Grandpa and Grandma Linda!"

"I miss you too, little one." Linda hugs her eldest and Anthony strokes his eldest granddaughter's straight hair.

Y/n smiled as she saw the scene.

Linda stepped back a little, studying Pietra and smiling. "I love the braids."

The little girl smiled proudly. "Right? Just like daddy's!" Everyone laughed.

Anthony then bent down and asked, "So, are you guys excited to go out?" The girls smiled and nodded excitedly.

Y/n bent down to their level, fixing Marie's hair and caressing Pietra's cheek, while giving some instructions to her daughters. "Behave yourselves and have fun, okay?"

Linda smiled. "They always behave, don't they, girls?"

They both nodded with shy smiles.

Anthony smiled and they walked towards the car, while Y/n watched the scene with a sweet smile on her face. Linda helps Marie and Pietra put on their seatbelts. Lewis's father waves to Y/n as he starts the car.

Y/n smiles friendly and when they leave the condominium, she closes the door behind her and runs to the stairs, climbing quickly, as now it was her turn to get ready.

When he arrived at his room, he stopped for a moment, looking at the clothes he had laid out earlier. The long dress was still there, but her eyes returned to the black satin shirt and jeans, already deciding what to wear. Marie was right—there was something powerful about that combination, something that made her feel confident and beautiful.

Calmly, Y/n took off the comfortable clothes she was wearing and put on the shirt, feeling the soft fabric slide over her skin. She continued to change her clothes and think about what awaited her tonight.

Y/n went to the large vanity she had and began to put on some light makeup, but something that matched the night and the outfit she was wearing.

As she finished applying mascara to her eyes, her cell phone beeped next to the products on the table, when she picked up the device and smiled when she saw Lewis's name on the screen, along with a message.

'Honey, coming in 10 minutes. Can't wait to see you.'

Her heart warmed, and the smile on her lips became even bigger, feeling a good shiver at the thought that, in a few minutes, she would be with her husband.

And exactly ten minutes later, when she finished arranging her hair in loose waves, a horn echoed outside her house. Y/n smiles and stands up, grabbing her bag and walking down the stairs excitedly, because Lewis had arrived.

When she opened it, she found Lewis standing a few feet from the door and a smile from someone who knew exactly the effect he was having on her. He wore an elegant formal outfit, but what caught her attention most were his loose braids, giving him a charming and relaxed look.

Y/n raised an eyebrow and smiled, tilting her head slightly. "Look at you... You look handsome, huh? Are you going out with someone special today?" She closed the door behind her and approached her husband.

Lewis chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "Only with the love of my life and mother of our children." The touch was brief, but full of affection. "You look beautiful in that outfit!" He grabbed his wife's hand and twirled around. Making Y/n laugh and her heels make a satisfying click as she twirled around.

"Your eldest daughter chose the outfit" He said, shaking the shirt slightly, with an amused look.

Lewis smiled even wider, his eyes shining. "Marie has good taste." He leaned close to her ear. "But honestly? You'd look beautiful in anything. Even without."

Y/n laughed, feeling completely melted and hit by Lewis's teasing comment. He noticed and smiled. Satisfied that he had that effect on her for so many years.

Arriving near the car, Lewis opens the passenger door for Y/n and she gets in, smiling in gratitude and resting her bag on her lap, as she watches her husband walk around the Ferrari they had and get in on the driver's side.

Automatically placing one hand on Y/n's thigh, while with the other he put on his seatbelt and started the car.

The night was calm and illuminated by the silver lights of the streetlights and the luxurious facades of the buildings. The city glowed with a sophisticated charm, reflecting in the city's lakes.

Y/n, leaning comfortably on the bench, looked away at her husband and smiled. "Okay, now tell me... Whose idea was it for P's braids?"

Lewis laughed, shaking his head as he remembered the scene in the paddock. "Oh, that's a good story! I don't know if the girls told you," he began, still laughing. "While I was in the pit, Charles came out of nowhere saying that I had a "mini-me" walking around the paddock with my mother. I didn't understand until I looked to the side and saw Pietra with a Ferrari cap, sunglasses and her hair tied back, with defined curls." Y/n laughed out loud, already imagining the scene. "And it doesn't stop there! Pietra looked at me and said: "Daddy, I need to have braids like yours! So everyone knows that I'm your real daughter!"

Y/n covered her mouth, trying to contain her laughter. "Oh my God, Pietra!"

"And of course my mother was thrilled and the next day took her to get her braids done. You should have seen her happiness when she came back to the paddock showing off her hair."

"And what was Marie's reaction?" Y/n asked, amused. As she looked at her husband, with the tattoos of the girls' names tattooed on his neck, made on the day they were born.

"Ah, Marie rolled her eyes and said, "You don't need to have braids to look like Daddy, everyone already knows you look just like him!" Lewis imitated his eldest daughter's intonation, drawing more laughter from Y/n.

"Our daughter has an old soul, Lew!"

He chuckled, nodding. "I know, she talks like she's had 40 years of life experience." Lewis looks at his wife with amusement.

As the laughter faded, Y/n leaned over to fiddle with the car's dashboard, putting on some low music that matched the lightness of the moment.

Her eyes wandered around the brightly lit city, and suddenly she recognized the road. Her lips parted in surprise, and she turned her gaze to Lewis, who was driving with a smirk on the corner of her eye, clearly expecting this reaction.

"Lew..." Y/n began, suspicious. He just kept driving, keeping the suspense.

When they finally approached the restaurant, Y/n's eyes widened and she turned completely to him. "The restaurant where we first met!"

Lewis parked and looked at her with a warm glow in his eyes. "If you're going to work things out, let's go back a little bit." The comforting answer made Y/n's heart warm.

Lewis gently cupped her face and placed a kiss on her cheek before getting out of the car and walking around to open the door for his wife.

"Always the gentleman, Sir Hamilton." Y/n joked as she left.

"For you? Always."

He handed the keys to the valet and took Y/n's hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. The feeling of home, of belonging, of everything returning to its rightful place, took over Y/n.

As soon as they entered, Lewis approached the front desk. "I have a reservation for tonight. In the name of Lewis Hamilton and Y/n Hamilton."

The receptionist checked the list and smiled, nodding. "Of course, Mr. Hamilton. This way, please."

They followed the man through the restaurant, which had a welcoming yet elegant ambiance. The space combined warm wood tones with modern touches of glass and soft lighting. The tables were arranged to provide couples with some privacy, without losing the vibrant atmosphere of the place.

The receptionist led them to an outdoor area, a secluded balcony, where a few tables were set up. The lighting was perfect: fairy lights entwined in the trees around the large lake, which reflected the soft glow of the city. The setting was magical and captivating.

"I hope you enjoy the atmosphere. The waiter will be here to serve you soon." The receptionist said politely before walking away.

Lewis pulled out a chair for Y/n, who sat across from him. Seconds later, the waiter arrived with menus and a bottle of wine, serving them both before leaving.

"Thank you!" Lewis smiles gently.

When they were alone, a comfortable silence hung in the air, until, at the same time, they both opened their mouths to speak.

"I'm sorry!" They stopped and looked at each other, surprised that they had spoken at the same time, and then laughed.

"I guess that means we feel the same way." Y/n smiled, holding the wine glass.

"I guess so." Lewis agreed, leaning his elbows on the table and looking at her fondly.

Y/n lightly swirled the wine glass between her fingers, watching the red liquid move. She took a deep breath before looking up at Lewis.

"I'm... I'm so sorry it got to this point. Spending days apart and putting the girls through it too." Her voice was soft, but full of sincerity. "I hate fighting with you, I hate when things get like this between us." Lewis didn't answer right away, just watched her, allowing her to continue. "I didn't mean to turn our conversation into an argument. I just... I was just tired and frustrated, work was taking its toll on me and I ended up taking it out on you. It wasn't fair."

Lewis sighed, running his hand over his face before finally answering.

"I'm sorry too, love." Her voice sounded full of regret. "When you asked me to leave home... that was a shock. But thinking back now, I understand." Y/n he fell silent, allowing him to continue. “You were right.” He let out a weak, humorless laugh. “I was spending too much time in Maranello. I was so focused on work, on the team, on training… that I didn’t even realize what I was leaving behind.”

He looked away for a moment, staring at the reflection of the light on the wine glasses on the table.

"Three weeks away from you made me realize how much I was wrong. How much I was missing. I only really realized this when Pietra called me crying because I wasn't home to tell her the story before bed."

Y/n felt her chest tighten. She remembered that night. Pietra had clung to her, sobbing softly and asking if Daddy still liked them.

"Lewis..."

He shook his head, his eyes shining with restrained emotion.

"It destroyed me. Knowing that my daughter thought I didn't like her because I wasn't there. And it wasn't just her... Marie too. I realized how distant I was, how much I was letting you carry everything on your own."

Y/n took a deep breath, squeezing the glass a little between her fingers. "But you were also right..." She admitted, her voice lower. "I also buried myself in work. I was frustrated because I felt like you were distant, but the truth is, sometimes I was too."

Lewis reached across the table, waiting for her to take it. "I don't want this anymore, Y/n. I don't want to fight with you anymore, or put our daughters through this. I want to be a present father, I want to be a better husband."

Y/n's eyes filled with tears, but she smiled, holding his hand tightly. "I want to be a better mother and wife too."

Lewis squeezed her fingers between his, as if afraid that if he let go, everything would fall apart again. "Shall we fix this together?"

Y/n nodded, her heart pounding. "Sure. Of course." She smiled.

Lewis smiled, bringing her hand to his lips and placing a soft kiss on her fingers.

"I love you, Y/n."

"I love you, Lewis"

In that moment, they knew they were on the right path to finding each other again, to rebuilding what they had almost lost. Because, at the end of the day, they were still a team. They always had been.

"Now, let's enjoy our evening." Lewis smiled and looked at the menu. "So, do you want the same order as the first time?"

Y/n laughs at the memory and shakes her head. "No! You know, I didn't know you were allergic to shrimp and you had to spend two days with me in the hospital. And we were only on our first date, how embarrassing." She puts her hand over her face.

Lewis laughs out loud. "But that was a reminder, wasn't it? That no matter what, I'd be by your side."

Y/n smiles lovingly. "It was, and I love it."

Dinner was lighthearted, the weight of the argument that had kept them apart for weeks seemed to have been lifted, giving way to smiles and natural conversations. They talked about past moments, laughed at old stories and shared knowing glances, as if they had rediscovered the comfort of each other's company.

Between a glass of wine and another, they also discussed ways to better balance their routine so that the family could spend more time together. It was a sincere dialogue, without demands, just with the mutual desire to do better.

As they left the restaurant, Lewis linked his fingers with Y/n's, walking with her to where the car was parked. The valet handed over the keys, and Lewis nodded in thanks before opening the car door for his wife.

"I had an idea on how we can spend more time together, especially with the girls." He says as he walks in too.

Y/n turned her face to him, curious. "Oh yeah? What did you think?"

"Well... I realized that I need to organize my schedule better so that I don't spend so much time away from home. So, I want to reduce the number of days in Maranello and make up for that time by being here more. Also, I thought about taking Pietra and Marie to see the Ferrari factory. They always ask what it's like there, and I think it would be an incredible experience for them."

"They'll love it. They'll want to touch everything and ask every detail about the cars." Y/n smiled at the idea. "Marie especially, she loves taking part in the races"

Lewis laughed.

"Yes, I'm already preparing to answer a thousand questions about engines and front wings. He starts driving around the city.

Y/n leaned her head back against the bench, thoughtful. "I can also adjust my office routine better so I can spend more time at home. We can arrange a few days to do something just the four of us."

Lewis nodded, satisfied. "That sounds perfect."

They talked a little more about the details of the plan, and when the topic came to an end, Lewis asked, "Do you want to go anywhere else before we go home?"

Y/n smiled and shook her head. "No, we're too old to stay out all night."

Lewis laughed, shaking his head. "Speak for yourself. I could hold out for a few more hours."

"Oh, sure, Lew. As if. Another half hour and you'd be asleep in the middle of the conversation."

He laughed and, without arguing, turned around and headed home.

The journey was peaceful and surrounded by a pleasant atmosphere, the feeling between them was light, filled with genuine joy, as if the storm of the last few weeks had finally dissipated.

When they arrived home, Lewis parked the car in the garage and got out, accompanying Y/n to the door. Even on the short journey, he kept one of his hands on her waist, a natural and instinctive gesture.

"Anne brought some great wine back from France when she traveled. I saved it for us to open together. Would you like to try it?"

"Sure" Lewis replied, following his wife into the kitchen.

Before they could do anything, Roscoe came running up to Lewis, barking and wagging his tail excitedly.

"Hey, buddy" Lewis smiled, bending down to pet the dog, who soon settled down next to him.

"He missed you too, you know? You're the oldest son in the house, Roscoe."

"Good to know at least he wasn't mad at me." Lewis laughed.

As Y/n opened the wine, Lewis approached from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. She smiled, enjoying that affection, and handed him a glass before turning around, facing her husband.

It was then that she realized he was deep in thought. His expression changed subtly, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"What it was?"

"There's something I've been thinking about since our fight..." Y/n waited, curious, until he finally revealed: "I want to retire from racing."

Y/n's world seemed to stop for a second. "WHAT?!" She exclaimed, looking at him in surprise. And almost dropping the glass she was holding.

Lewis remained calm and repeated: "I want to retire."

Y/n blinked, processing that, and stepped back a little, starting to pace around the kitchen. "Lewis, you can't do this!" Her voice came out fast, almost nervous. "You're only in your second season with Ferrari! You can still win so many titles! And, my God, I never wanted you to give up on your dream because of a silly fight we had. We've worked this out! You can't give up on your dreams!"

Her words came out in a rush, her mind wandering, and she felt her eyes fill with tears.

Lewis smiled and walked closer to her, cupping her face gently. "Y/n, I'm not letting go of a dream," he said softly. "Because everything I've ever dreamed of is right here, right in front of me."

Her eyes filled even more, and a tear fell silently.

"But..." She whispered, not knowing exactly what to say. Without the strength to argue any further, she let herself be wrapped in Lewis's arms, resting her head on his shoulder. "You've always dreamed of this..." Her voice was muffled against his chest.

Lewis stroked her hair and smiled against the side of her head. "My dream has always been to have a family. To have you guys. Racing has been a big part of my life, but it's not my whole life. I want to be here for every moment of the girls, for every phase of our life together. That...that's what really matters to me."

Y/n closed her eyes, absorbing those words, feeling herself overcome by an intense wave of emotion.

"Do you really want this?"

"I do. With all my heart." She pulled back a little, looking into his eyes, and Lewis smiled, touching her face tenderly. "I love you" he said softly.

Y/n smiled, still with tears in her eyes, and shook her head. "I love you too, Lewis."

Lewis slid his fingers down Y/n's face before finally sealing his lips on hers. The kiss was slow, full of feelings, as if it sealed everything they had just said. Their lips moved in perfect sync, and a small smile formed in the middle of the kiss, as if they were celebrating that moment. It was a kiss of love, of understanding, of silent promises.

Suddenly, a horn honked loudly from outside, breaking the moment. Y/n smiled against Lewis's lips and pulled away, chuckling softly.

"The girls are here" she said, giving him one last peck before walking away completely. "I'll go get them."

Lewis smiled, watching her rush towards the door. As soon as she opened it, the girls practically threw themselves into her arms, laughing and hugging their mother tightly.

"Mommy!" Pietra exclaimed excitedly, while Marie held tightly onto Y/n's waist.

Y/n laughed and bent down, planting kisses on them before saying in a mysterious voice, "I think there's something waiting for you in the kitchen."

Pietra's eyes widened, always the most excited, and suddenly screamed: "OH MY GOD, IS THERE STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM?"

She ran into the house with her sister, running towards the kitchen without even confirming if what she said was true. Linda, Anthony and Y/n burst out laughing, infected by the girl's naive excitement.

"Thank you for keeping them" Y/n said, smiling at them.

"Imagine, dear" Linda replied. "We are the ones who appreciate you spending time with our granddaughters."

Y/n smiles. "We can arrange dinner here tomorrow. Are you up for it?"

"Sure!" Linda says smiling.

"We'd love it!"

"Great then" Y/n smiles. With that, they say their goodbyes, exchanging hugs before Linda and Anthony leave.

Y/n closed the door and began walking to the kitchen, hearing the mix of her daughters' and Lewis' voices echoing through the room. The sound filled her chest with a cozy warmth, and an involuntary smile appeared on her face.

When he entered the kitchen, he saw a scene that made his heart warm even more: Marie was on Lewis' lap, along with Pietra, while the two laughed and chatted excitedly.

Suddenly, Marie turned to Y/n with a bright smile and asked, "Did Daddy come home?"

Y/n looked at Lewis, who was already watching her with a tender smile. Her heart clenched with love.

"Yes, my dear. Daddy's back!" She said softly.

The girls squealed excitedly and wrapped their father in a tight hug, making Lewis laugh. He then looked at Y/n and extended one of his arms to her.

"Come here, love"

Y/n smiled and walked over to them, joining the family's embrace. Between laughter, kisses and hugs, she knew, in that moment, that they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

Author: So, my initial idea was to have the ending with Y/n saying she was pregnant with her third child, but I didn't know if you guys would like it, so I changed it to the idea of Lewis retiring. I don't know, which one would you like more? (By the way, whoever read the introduction above, could you answer the question I left? About continuing with a parallel universe of this family?)

[dem0batz]

Just Pretend

Caleb x MC // Love and Deepspace

Author's Note: I don't normally update this frequently so please don't expect me to continue to pump out chapters for this au at the pace that I have been. I'm just following the brain worms. Summary: Based on the main story track when MC is staying in Skyhaven with Caleb. You develop a minor cold and accidentally fall asleep the night you were supposed to rescue Kevi, unbeknownst to you that it was very intentional on Caleb's part. 🔞Content Warnings: Dead Dove; Do Not Eat, afab!mc, she/her!mc, yandere!Caleb, pseudocest, drugging MC, stalking (filed under “surveillance”), angst, brief mention of pregnancy and pregnancy loss, noncon, somnophilia, oral (f. rec), masturbation, breeding kink, cream pie Word Count: ~3000 words | read on AO3 | Chapter List

“Maybe you should take tonight to rest instead of meeting up with your friends, pip-squeak. You’ve been coughing all day.”

Caleb phrased it like a suggestion but you took it for what is was. Some things never change and his bossy tendencies was one of them. You had no intention of staying in tonight, cold or not— you promised Kevi you would help him and Zayne was waiting for you to bring the boy to him so he could be smuggled out of Skyhaven before the fleet found him.

As much as you wanted to trust your brother, there was something nagging at you that he was a different Caleb than the one you grew up with. You weren’t sure whose side he would take— yours or theirs should it be found out that you are secretly suspicious of the Farspace Fleet and investigating them.

“You’re probably right,” you say, exaggerating a cough.

“I’m always right,” he teases. “Besides, Skyhaven is under lockdown tonight while the fleet conducts a clean up.”

He disappears further into the apartment and returns a few moments later with two white pills in the center of his palm. You eye the pills warily.

“Cough suppressants,” he reassures.

A weight leaves your chest. You must be feeling especially paranoid with the whole Mia and Kevi situation. You don’t trust the Fleet but Caleb would never put you in danger, despite what his orders were.

You truly believed that. He was just trying to look out for your well-being. Taking the cough suppressants would probably help with the worst of your symptoms tonight anyway.

“Thanks,” you accept the medication. Caleb watches you chase down the pills with a glass of water, a satisfied smile on his face. “Why the need for the lockdown?”

“I see you haven’t gotten any less nosy over the years,” he accuses playfully.

“And you haven’t gotten any less avoidant over the years,” you counter. Still, you continue to probe. “Is it classified?”

Huffing a laugh and shaking his head, Caleb cages you against the counter. His eyes dance playfully across your face, left hand coming up to cup your jaw. You find it a little odd, considering that he was right-handed but you quickly push it from your mind, heart racing at the feeling of his proximity. His thumb strokes your cheek, subtly checking your skin for a rise in heat to ensure you haven’t caught a fever. At least that’s what he tells himself, and it’s partially true, but really he just wanted an excuse to touch you again after nearly a year of missing the feeling.

“No, it’s not classified,” he eventually gives. It wouldn’t hurt to allow you this small bit of information. “A weird fluctuation in the tunnel is riling up the Wanderers. So teams are being sent out tonight to handle it. But it’s nothing you need to worry about because you’ll be resting. Right?”

Thankful for your years of training at the academy, you school your face though guilt wracks through you for the lie you were about to tell. Yes, you believed Caleb would always put your safety first, but you still didn’t know how involved he was in this situation with the kids. You couldn’t risk letting them down. If it turned out you were wrong and the Fleet really had their best interests in mind, then you would tell Caleb the truth once Kevi was out of Skyhaven.

“First of all, I’m a Hunter and eliminating Wanderers is my job. So of course it’s something for me to worry about,” you narrow your eyes defiantly.

The lop-sided smirk on his face only grows in amusement. He always got his entertainment out of picking fights with you and then making it up to you afterward. But things were different now. You were different now. You had to learn to survive without the safety net Caleb provided. He needed to take your job seriously and recognize that you were more than capable.

“Unfortunately though, you happen to be right about me needing to rest and get over this cough. I need to return to work next week and I would hate for a mild cold to keep me from my job.”

At the mention of returning to work, his face drops, lips pursing disapprovingly. Caleb never did like the idea of you going into such a hands-on, dangerous profession but Gran always kept him from interfering with your career too much. Now that she was gone, there wasn’t anyone to bat away the insane thoughts of keeping you locked up at bay. Truth be told, his reaction was less to do with your job now and everything to do with you leaving Skyhaven. Thankfully, those thoughts didn’t win out today as he nods, backing away and changing the subject.

The distance between you was back to feeling cold and empty.

“I need to get ready for my shift. I’ll make sure to say goodnight before I head out. Get some rest, pip-squeak.”

The way he went from hot to cold gave you the worst kind of whiplash. One minute he was playful and fun, and the next he was closed off and felt far away and unreachable, even more so than when he was “dead”.

You swallow down the painful lump in your throat as you watch the back of his white sweater disappear down the hallway to the guest room he had been staying in during your visit since you have been staying in his.

After going through your usual bed time routine so as to not make Caleb suspicious, you crawl into the large soft bed. Rolling over on your side, you cozy up to watch raindrops hit the floor-to-ceiling window as yet another storm dumps on Skyhaven. You had every intention of feigning sleep until Caleb left but somewhere along the way, your eyes grew so heavy that it was impossible to keep them open. You hadn’t even realized that you fell asleep and when you did, it was like being submerged in a warm, soothing bath that you couldn’t seem to come out of, falling into such a deep sleep that not even dreams or nightmares could touch you.

Many hours later, an exhausted Caleb returns home. He doesn’t even bother shedding his damp uniform, leaving the OTTO unit to clean up the trail of water left behind from his soaked boots. He only has one destination in mind after a long night cleaning up the streets of his city. 

Caleb pushed open his bedroom door a crack. Peering from beneath the bill of his uniform cap, his eyes dart over your sleeping form. He takes a moment to admire the sight of you curled up in his bed, waiting for him to return home from work. It was something he spent his entire adult life dreaming of and now it was a reality, even if wasn’t of your own doing. Very little was when it was left up to him.

He was trained to sus out lies in interrogation rooms and could read you better than a book. After all these years, you still had the same tells though you had gotten better at concealing them. To anyone else, you likely would have been the perfect little liar but he knew your face and your body language better than anyone, despite what your new little boyfriends thought.

Yeah, he knew about them.

It was his job to know things and above everything else, you were always his first priority of business. He had continued to keep a close eye on you after his recovery post-explosion. Even if the professor hadn’t assigned you to his charge as a secret mission, Caleb would have done it regardless. His Colonel rank only gave him more resources to keep tabs on you, even if that meant occasionally having to destroy certain types of evidence to keep you safe. There were some places you went where he wasn’t able to keep watch— the N109 Zone, specifically. But it didn’t take long for the Onychinus leader to show his face in Linkon City.

Sylus may have been wealthy and full of resources competing with his own that kept his identity unknown to most other government and military entities, but he was difficult to ignore when he started showing up everywhere you went in Linkon. Wasn’t exactly subtle in the way he was pursuing you, touching you like you belonged to him.

But he would be dealt with later.

Out of all of your admirers, there was one in particular that set Caleb’s teeth on edge and that was his former best friend.

It was no secret that Gran always pushed you and Zayne together which is why Caleb invited him into your bedroom in the first place. He wanted to make sure that Zayne understood the only way he would ever get to have you was because Caleb allowed it. For years, it would seem that he received that unspoken message, never making a move on you beyond the permission Caleb directed in those intimate moments. It didn’t take long for the doctor to take advantage of your loneliness though, to swoop in and be your shoulder to cry on in his absence.

If any of your boyfriends deserved the Farspace Colonel’s wrath, it was Zayne.

This was personal.

Now that you knew the truth of Caleb’s life, there was no reason to continue to sit back and watch those four continue to take what was his. You didn’t need anyone else when you had him.

Caleb pushed the thoughts of those other men out of his mind, not wanting to spoil this rare moment he had to watch you in person again, comfortable and pliable in his sheets.

Just like when you were younger, the blanket was tossed to the side with one leg in and one leg out like your body couldn’t decide whether it was hot or cold. This gave Caleb a view of your body, his familiar oversized aviation tee that you had stolen years ago covering you. He can’t believe you still had it, and wore it regularly by the look of the thinning material. It rode up your torso, teasing a view of your stomach. The temptation to keep his hands to himself is impossible as a leather gloved finger traces the hem of your sleep shorts.

Caught in his thoughts, he’s thrown back to your sophomore year of college. He was in his last year of pilot training but made the trip from Skyhaven to Linkon as often as he could to see you. One particular weekend, he surprised you with with a visit and you surprised him with a positive pregnancy test. He was over the moon, thinking of the best way to break the news to Gran and trying to convince you to finally let him put a ring on your finger. Not that he needed your permission because he wouldn’t accept no for an answer, but hearing you say yes of your own accord would be ideal.

Yes, you were both young but he’s loved you for as long as he could remember and spending your lives together was always the plan. Not to mention, he’s been looking for a way to convince you to stay out of the Hunter’s Academy for years— a baby was the perfect reason to keep you off of such a dangerous career path. You didn’t need to risk your life when he would always be there to take care of you. Both of you.

That all came crashing down when you miscarried just a few days later.

He was devastated.

You were relieved.

Your relief broke his heart and made him angry, feeling like he was grieving the loss of your baby alone but he would never expect you to carry the burden of his pain so he kept it to himself. Regardless, he hadn’t let go of his plan for your life together; the timeline would merely be pushed back a little. He’d been patient for years at this point. A couple more wouldn’t hurt.

That was, until the explosion that left him dead to the world and confined to a bed during his recovery. For a while, he let go of that silly dream, content to watch you live your life from afar while he kept you safe from the clouds above. But now that you knew the truth and were back in his life, he felt a flicker of hope return.

Pushing the t-shirt further up your body, he hunches over to press a trail of soft wet kisses across the skin, imaging what you’ll look like swollen and heavy with his baby.

“I’m going to put another one inside you one day,” he continues peppering his lips over your stomach then resting his forehead there as his cap rolls off his head to land on the mattress. “This is my vow. As soon as I deal with the professor and we’re both safe, we will finally have the life we were always meant to, pip.”

You begin to stir under his touch, the feeling of his soft damp tendrils brushing your skin, tickling you even so deep in your sleep. The soft gasp of his name on your sleepy lips is enough to make him harden uncomfortably in his uniform pants, the starchy material leaving very little growing room. He can’t help but to bury his face in between your legs, inhaling the familiar scent of you with a shudder. It’s enough to leave the rational part of his mind behind, the last shred of his self-control slipping since your arrival as he pulls your sleep shorts down and tosses them to the side along with his jacket and gloves.

Caleb palms himself through the now unbearably tight pants before unzipping them for some relief. Kneeling back onto the bed, he carefully shoulders his way between your thighs, admiring the sight of your beautiful pussy and inhaling you again, feeling a sense of home for the first time in nearly a year. The temptation was too much to resist.

Just one taste.

That was all he needed to get by until he could convince you that this is where you belonged.

With him.

Knowing you wouldn’t wake up with the pills he fed you earlier, he flicks out his tongue to lightly spread your folds, teasing himself with the hint of your comforting flavor. He hadn’t completely lied about the nature of the pills— they would certainly heal up that cough of yours but would knock you out for a solid 12 hours before you came out of it. They basically put the consumer into a temporary coma to encourage a quickly healing process. The medication was not available for public consumption, reserved only for fleet members who needed a quick recovery but his rank gave him access that most others did not have.

Earlier, he had felt guilty for deceiving you but reminded himself that you were lying about staying in to rest and likely intended to sneak out once he was gone. He couldn’t have you wandering around Skyhaven alone at night without his protection. Not to mention, he never would have been able to do this if he hadn’t pushed you to take the medicine.

Your flavor explodes on the tip of his tongue, causing his hips to jerk into the mattress as he throws your legs over his shoulders to deepen his kiss to your center. Licking through the seam, he seeks out your clit, teasing and sucking it between his lips until you’re swollen and slick, gushing around his mouth with sleepy sighs and moans as you came on his tongue. Even if you wouldn’t remember it, he needed to make you orgasm, missing the feeling of you falling apart beneath him as if a piece of himself had been missing for ten long months.

This was the most alive he’s felt since he died.

Rising to his knees, chest rising and falling in heavy pants with your essence coating his chin, Caleb pulls his hard cock free. His head falls back in ecstasy as his hand cradles his girth. With you lying there and the lack of feeling in his right hand, he could almost pretend you were the one tugging on it, bringing him to the brink.

“Fuck, pretty girl. Missed you so damn much,” he pants, left hand climbing up your soft thigh to thumb your slick clit again. He had always been addicted to touching you, but now it was like going on a bender after getting sober and he couldn’t get enough.

Surprising himself with the quickness of his orgasm, he spurts all over you with a pained groan. Ropes of white coat the inside of your thighs and stomach, and he can’t tear his eyes away. When there’s nothing left to give, he slumps down, admiring the sight of his claim. Heart pounding in his chest, another intrusive thought invades his mind, bouncing off of the walls of his skull until he gives into the compulsion. Scooping the spend up with his fingers, he carefully stuffs you full of it, your pussy sucking them in like it was welcoming him home.

Slicking back his damp hair, Caleb feels like the storm clouds of his mind have been temporarily settled, allowing him to think clearly again. Guilt once again floods him as he thinks about what he’s done, always at war with himself when it came to you. He busies himself with cleaning you up and redressing you, ensuring to leave no tangible evidence of what he had done behind. Only the knowledge that he had left a piece of him behind for you to take back home with you. 

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[kabr0ztrousers]

fem reader finds a mysterious book that summons different monsters or creatures that takes care of human needs and reader chooses to summon the demon and they have sex and make out thats all-

ima be butterfly anon 🦋 so you know that it's me as I will be requesting more in the future.

You can absolutely claim 🦋 if you like, and I do love an opportunity to make another demon. Now without further ado, here's

Kabr0z Writes Episode 33: The book

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Excessive cum; demon summoning; long preamble; monstrous genitalia; butt stuff

A/N: This is the last ask at time of writing, so if you have an idea for something you wanna see, or just want to call me a perv, please reach out! I feed on engagement, after all

##################################

Antiques filled your flat. Mostly worthless tchotchkes, the odd chair or end table missing the rest of some hypothetical set, one particular lamp constructed mostly from a taxidermised heron. You loved them all, but most of all your carefully climate-controlled bookshelf. Your collection wasn't particularly valuable; there weren't many first editions amongst the ranks and what you had were in pretty uniformly terrible condition. The spoils of estate auctions and charity shops.

This time was different. You weren't going to be in Bristol long, so decided to stroll down the alleys of the older parts of the city, far from the university students and the train stations. This shop was barely a hole in the wall. It was only about twice as wide as its own doorway, but it went deeper than made sense. Crowded on all sides with stacks and shelves of books, mostly well-thumbed paperbacks with peeling spines or the odd book of fairy stories from the 60s or 70s, more penguins than you could shake a stick at. One in particular caught your eye. Leather bound, stained a deep royal purple, and with an embossed sigil on the spine. 'The Book of Creatures and Calling' You hadn't heard of this work, and couldn't find any author or attributions on the first few pages. It looked handwritten, a flowing looping hand filling the work in neat, dense rows of text and painstakingly drawn diagrams.

You put it atop the pile of volumes you carried and bought your haul. Vintage copies of Grimm's Fairy Stories, Robin Hood, Tales of Arabian Nights, and that book.

You got home and put away your haul, minus the oddball. That you set about reading, googling passages from it and trying to get some inkling on who wrote it, was it published, or did you just wind up with a random manuscript?

The internet, predictably, produced nothing of use. The book seems never to have been published, or at least nobody had put any parts of it on the web. It was fascinating at any rate. Step by step directions for calling forth all manner of creatures, even organised by difficulty with simpler rituals at the start, and the more daunting ones near the end.

You opted for a simple one to start. A brownie. You drew the circle and left out offerings and a worn-out pair of shoes then went to bed.

When you checked the ritual in the morning, the offerings were gone, and the shoes were as good as new. Better, in fact.

You realised what you had. An honest-to-god grimoire. And you've successfully summoned a faerie.

You checked the book again, making sure to read and re-read every sentence. The compact was simple, the offerings were to pay the faerie back for coming and fixing a broken thing. You didn't owe it anything more, and a pair of shoes was specifically recommended as an example of 'a broken thing'. You sighed in relief. The last thing you needed was to owe something a debt.

Over the next few weeks you tried tougher summons, and got more confident in your abilities. You called forth a dryad who gave you some fruit in return for a song, a walking broom who cleaned your flat, even a golden goose once, though it didn't lay anything for you.

The day you really found the potential of the book came later. You'd been drinking pretty heavily, your boyfriend had just walked out on you. Wine and ice cream wasn't cutting it, you needed something more substantial. You reached for the book and turned to the last summon. An incubus. For the low, low price of a sliver of your soul, you could get the best fuck of your life. You shrugged and finished your wine. Worth it.

The ritual was much more complex. Carefully tracing sigils within sigils, lighting candles and incense, making sure that the protection and binding spells were perfect (It would be disastrous if they failed) before using a kitchen knife to cut a slit into your fingertip.

A single drop of blood welled up from your finger, then lifted off it, drifting to the centre of the ritual. A smell of iron joined the sweet incense and paraffin in the air. The candles flickered for a moment, and he appeared.

He was tall, brass-skinned, and well dressed. He wore a pair of tight black leather trousers and a black silk waistcoat, covered in brocade embroidered in fine gold thread. His feet, each toe tipped with a knifelike black claw, were bare and in a pointe stance about an inch above the floor. The burnished metallic skin of his arms and face reflected the soft candlelight, sending fluid reflections across your walls as he took in his surroundings. Atop his head were a pair of black horns, twisting out, then in, then straight up. His hair was the same metal as his face, a coif of impossibly thin brass wire. His eyes were the only part of him that wasn't polished metal or charred bone, black scleras surrounded glowing red irises and horizontally slitted pupils.

"A professional job, well done young summoner" His features twisted to a smile, revealing silver teeth and a forked silver tongue "I can see you know your craft"

The book had warned you about this, that he would try to beguile you, twist you into agreeing to something you didn't want. You wordlessly proferred a scroll to him. A contract. It was carefully worded: no verbal contracts would be binding for the rest of his time with you, he would give you an evening of carnal delight, and in return he would get a sliver of your soul equivalent to an hour at the end of your lifespan.

The demon read the document, and laughed "I'm not used to you people being so well prepared. Very well. An hour of your life, taken from the very end, in return for my services for the evening. This ought to be fun." He bowed deeply "I am Kamilik, lesser demon in service to Simizel and denizen of the Ashen Pit"

You told him your name, being careful to phrase it as how he could address you, which only made him chuckle further.

Once you had both signed the document, you led him to your bedroom. Your hands shook as you started to undress for the creature you had invited in to your home. He touched your waist, and stroked your hair. He must've been able to smell the wine on your breath as he pulled you towards him, easing off your top and expertly unfastening your bra, casting the garments into the corner of the room. He sat on the bed and pulled you on top of him, one clawed hand on your back, the other cupping your face before he drew you into a kiss.

His breath smelled of metal, and his skin was hot, but his lips were soft as you melted into his arms. Sat on his lap, eyes closed and running your hands through each others hair, feeling one another's bodies. You unfastened his waistcoat and he pulled it off, keeping one hand on you, then the other, never breaking the kiss.

It was like making out with a radiator, if the radiator was soft and receptive to the touch. You pushed your tongue into his mouth and he gently sucked on it, the heat even more intense, but never painful. Then his tongue entered your mouth, the forked muscle flitting in, tasting like how a 9-volt feels. You gasped with surprise at the sensation, but relaxed into it as his needle-sharp claws drew intricate patterns on your back. You pressed yourself against him, feeling your tits flatten on his burnished chest and enjoying the warm wetness spreading between your legs.

You pulled away, and knelt off the side of the bed. You yanked his waistband down, before he cut a slit down his trousers and they burned away, leaving him nude on the bed in front of you. His cock was fleshy and vascular, red veins criss-crossed pale flesh, coming to a gentle point at the end. You admired it for a moment, before taking it in one hand and jerking it. You heard him sigh as your hand pumped his shaft, even more so when you started to lick and suck on his balls. You felt a drop of precum start to leak from him, getting on your hand. You pressed a fingertip against his brass asshole, intending to gently work it in, but his eager butt swallowed it up to your knuckle with no resistance. You curled it up and touched his prostate.

You heard him groan and felt his cock pulse in your hand. He was cumming already. You felt drops of hot liquid on your face and pulled away, watching him pump a fountain of golden cum into the air. Eventually the pulsing stopped, your hand was coated in the hot, sticky gold liquid. He wasn't going soft

"I'm a demon. We're done when you say we are"

You smiled, this is going to be fun. You reached into your bedside drawer and produced a toy, long and curved, designed to seek out a man's prostate and press against it mercilessly. You pushed it up the demon. As soon as it found its mark, he started spurting again. This time you were ready.

You pushed the cock into your mouth, gripping his pulsating balls in one hand and rattling the toy inside him with the other. He filled your mouth almost immediately, and you gulped him down.

Your cunt was starting to tingle in anticipation, but you wanted to indulge yourself a little more like this. You bobbed your head, taking in the warming cum and the demon's moans and gasps as pleasure turned to pain and back to pleasure. Every few dips you'd push his tip into your throat, causing him to spurt harder and cry out louder.

You eased up on the toy, the flow slowed but didn't stop as you pulled his cock, twitching and leaking, out of your mouth. The demon was already lying flat on his back, hands either side of him, clenching his fists against the shaking. You straddled his cock and started rocking back and forth on it, adding his cum to the lubrication on your pussy before pushing him in.

He felt bigger on the inside, the pulsing mass of flesh pumping cum into you already. You started to ride him. Every rock of your hips spilled cum out of you. You leant forwards to work his frenulum inside you. His face screwed up as he grabbed you. The sharp nails on his hands marking your skin, but not cutting. You couldn't reach the toy pressed against his orgasm button, but that wasn't stopping him now. Every thrust into you, every roll of your hips, every touch of your hands on his skin made him spurt more and more into you until it was flowing out of you and onto the bedsheets. You pushed a hand between your distended belly and his twitching one, pressing against your clit for only a moment before you gasped and realised your oen climax.

You bucked harder against him, your abs pushing and pussy clenching. He came even harder, cum squirting out of you. He released you and you leant back. His cock was against your g-spot now and still spraying that hot cum into you. You grabbed the toy and fucked his ass with it. He screamed as you punished his rear, riding his cock into you and you orgasmic clenching redoubled as you came again. Your belly bounced on him almost comically, full of the golden semen he seemed to have an endless supply of.

You pulled out the toy and slumped forwards onto him, spent.

He kissed your lips again, and you kissed him back.

You grinned "Give me ten minutes, then round 2?"

He chucked "Whatever you want"

#####################################

Post script: Once again, my ask box runneth dry! Please, oh reader, toss an idea to your Kabr0z and something will likely come of it!

[farawayfromsomething]

"....Okay, are any of the dishes not poisoned?! Is there anyone at this feast who did not poison anything?!" Lucia screams at the top of her lungs. She has seemingly forgotten that slaves who only clean and never actually cooked in their life, would be bad at cooking. Lucia isn't the smartest of people, but I suppose generally if your parents are rich you don't need to be smart. I should stop narrating about rich parents and start telling you, reader, about the how Lucia found out that these dishes were, in fact, poisoned. She had been smart enough to get one of her slaves to try the dishes before they were served to her, to check if they were poisonous. So now like a crime scene there are several dead bodies around the room. It is odd some may say to not move them. However Lucia is odd. She is also rather stressed as her cousins are coming over, for the first time since she's been queen. And the place is currently a mess especially in the slave quarters with dead bodies scattered around everywhere, wood walls splattered with the dishes deemed poisonous and poor slaves running trying to make something that isn't poisoned or toast. You may be wondering where Lucia's cooking slaves are, well, they are making beds. Lucia did forget her system of light brown clothes being cleaning slaves and dark brown cooking slaves. She has not yet found an acceptable dish.

"Why. Are. All. Of. You. So. Bad. At. Cooking?!" She yells again. I don't know Lucia maybe put your cooking slaves into the kitchen then maybe you'd get something that was of decent quality.

Authors note: Hello I tried something different chatty narrator and different to usual story line. Also a very short story more of a scene.

"….Okay, are any of the dishes not poisoned?! Is there anyone at this feast who did not poison anything?!"

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

The Regulars Should’ve Known

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Civilian!Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing, alcohol consumption, Soap being a relentless flirt, and pub regulars being tired of his antics.

Author’s Note: This idea was too good to pass up. Soap, the local pub’s charming menace, meets the one person who actually stays—and suddenly, the regulars don’t know what to do with themselves. This is based off of the First Meeting HC and this ask someone gave me about the HC.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The Moment Soap Stood Up, the Bets Began.

It was like watching a rerun of the same episode, the kind you could practically recite the lines to before they were spoken. John MacTavish, resident heartbreaker and relentless flirt, set down his pint with that all-too-familiar glint in his eye. His target? You—a new face, tucked away at the corner table, sipping your drink in peaceful solitude.

The regulars shared knowing looks. Coins discreetly exchanged hands, murmured predictions rolling through the pub.

- “She’ll be gone in fifteen.”

- “Twenty, tops. He’s got a good opener, but she doesn’t look the type.”

- “Might let him buy her a drink, just to be polite.”

- “Nah, she’s definitely walking away.”

Behind the bar, the bartender sighed and shook his head. Poor lass.

---

“New in town, are ya?”

The voice—smooth, rich, and unmistakably Scottish—cut through your quiet. You looked up from your glass, finding yourself face-to-face with a man who looked like he belonged in trouble.

Short-cropped mohawk, blue eyes that crinkled at the edges, a jawline that could probably cut glass. His grin was easy, practiced—but not insincere. The kind of grin that had likely charmed its way out of a lot of bad decisions.

You arched a brow. “Is it that obvious?”

“Aye, ‘fraid so.” He leaned against the chair opposite you, one hand still cradling his pint, the other resting on the backrest like he’d already decided he belonged there. “I know all the faces ‘round here. Yours? Far too bonnie to forget.”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. Smooth.

“Johnny,” he continued, offering his hand. “But most call me Soap.”

Your fingers brushed against his as you took it, warmth bleeding into your skin. “Soap?”

His smirk widened. “Aye. Long story, but I promise it’s a good one.”

You cast a glance toward the bar. A few of the men there were watching—not obviously, but with enough interest that it was clear they’d seen this before. One even shook his head slightly, as if to warn you.

You turned back to the man in front of you. “Let me guess—this is usually the part where they either leave or go home with you?”

Soap had the audacity to *look impressed.*

“Clever girl,” he mused, tilting his head. “But that depends. Are you plannin’ on leavin’?”

You studied him for a long moment. Normally, you would have. Normally, you’d roll your eyes and wave him off.

But there was something different about him. Maybe it was the way his grin softened at the edges, how there wasn’t a hint of frustration in his eyes at your teasing, just a glimmer of intrigue. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed… genuine, beneath all that swagger.

You took a sip of your drink, set it down, and smirked.

“Alright, Soap. Let’s see if you can actually hold a conversation.”

The delighted gleam in his eyes could’ve lit up the whole damn pub.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he grinned, leaning in, “you have no idea what you’ve just started.”

---

The Regulars Were Not Prepared

At first, they watched, waiting for the inevitable moment you’d excuse yourself.

But then—

You laughed. Laughed.

Not the awkward, polite kind. Not the “Oh, you’re funny, but I’m still leaving” kind. No, it was a real laugh, one that had you covering your mouth, eyes crinkling in delight.

Soap looked like a man who had just won the lottery.

He leaned in, elbows on the table, completely absorbed in whatever you were saying. His usual, practiced flirtations took a backseat to something else—genuine engagement. His brow furrowed when you spoke, his lips parted like he was actually listening.

The regulars exchanged stunned glances.

One of them groaned and slapped a fiver onto the bar.

“Did not see that coming.”

---

Two Nights Later

They should’ve known something was up when Soap walked into the pub with his hands full.

Not full of drinks. Not full of mischief. No, his arm was slung around your shoulders, pulling you close like he’d never not done it before.

And you—the same person they had all bet wouldn’t last twenty minutes—were laughing, tilting your head back as Soap nuzzled into your neck, murmuring something low and teasing against your skin.

The pub went silent.

The bartender nearly dropped a glass.

Soap strolled in like he owned the place, barely even sparing them a glance as he steered you toward his usual table. When he pulled out your chair, you rolled your eyes but took the seat, nudging his thigh playfully as he plopped down beside you, his hand settling absentmindedly on your leg.

“Oi, Johnny,” one of the regulars called, voice laced with disbelief. “You forget somethin’, mate?”

Soap barely glanced up from where he was tracing slow circles against your knee. “Hm?”

“The part where she *never comes back.*”

That damn smirk tugged at his lips, but it softened as he turned to you.

“Aye, well,” he murmured, gaze warm, *soft*, full of something even the pub’s brightest lights couldn’t match. “Guess I finally did somethin’ right, then.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and for a moment, you thought about teasing him. But instead, you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his.

“You really did,” you murmured back.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and reverent, like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

The regulars, collectively speechless, exchanged looks before someone finally sighed, lifting their glass in defeat.

“Well, lads… looks like the first round’s on us.”

The regulars paid up, grumbling into their drinks as pints were passed and wagers settled. But Soap? He didn’t care. Not about the lost bets, not about the stunned looks. The only thing he cared about was you.

Because two weeks later, he was still walking into the pub with you tucked under his arm, your hand casually resting on his chest like you belonged there.

Because a month later, you were waiting for him at the bar with his drink in hand, smiling up at him as he pulled you in for a quick kiss—right there, in front of everyone—before settling into the seat beside you.

Because six months later, Soap wasn’t prowling the bar for company anymore. He was already looking at you like you’d hung the bloody stars.

Your relationship wasn’t built on fleeting glances or empty flirtations. It was in the way he pulled you closer at night, mumbling half-asleep praises into your hair. In the way you learned his tells—how his knee bounced when he was anxious, how he rolled his shoulders when something was weighing on him. It was in the way you reached for him first, and how he always reached back.

Soap had always been a lover, but with you, it was different.

With you, it was real.

And the pub? Well, the regulars had long since stopped betting against you.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[shiranuieditorial]

Professional editor here 🙋🏽 piping in to say that that sentence is 100% grammatically correct, but it could use a pair of em dashes (if following U.S. English standards) or en dashes (if following U.K. English standards) to break up that interior monologue or emphasised exclamation (whichever one you intended it to be) as an interjection/interruption inserted within the main sentence. It would help your readers’ clarity and understanding, and therefore, boost their enjoyment levels too!

So, yeah, it still stands that English’s grammar sphere is extremely flexible, twistable, stretchable, flammable, combustible, slice-and-diceable, and however the fuck else you wanna abuse it to your selfish satisfaction! You just gotta make sure your overall creation is still readable, parseable, legible, decipherable, understandable, and therefore, enjoyable—you know?

Unique author voices are completely different from grammatical errors and linguistic inaccuracies. The former is to be cherished! Treasured! Praised! Uplifted! Celebrated until the end of time! Meanwhile, the latter is to be reduced to a minimum, because we don’t need them if they don’t serve a very intentional purpose. A trained eye will be able to distinguish this without problem, which is indeed why human editors like me and my friends aren’t that easily replaced by AI—thank you very much!—but this elephantine task certainly takes on a differently flavoured toll when an author self-edits their own writing, especially if they don’t have years of specialised knowledge and training in the art of editing. (And trust me, it is a wholly different and just as serious of a skillset as the writing part itself.)

Now, whether or not you plan to work with a trusted professional editor later on is up to you to decide (I mean, it’s obviously recommended, but the choice is still in your hands; and even if you do hire editors, the final choice to accept or reject their suggestions is also still in your hands), but here are a few things to keep in mind during your self-editing rounds:

Trust yourself, first and foremost! You’re the one who understands your story best. If something strongly resonates with you, keep it in. At the very least, it’d add a touch of you and your humanity to your creation, if nothing else.

Having your own unique voice is a good thing. You should want more of it, and no one should ever try to kill it off of you—not even yourself. Stay authentic to yourself, explore whatever interests you, and keep honing your storytelling voice(s) through practice, practice, practice—no matter how you think it “stands out against” or “blends in with” or “doesn’t hold a candle to” or “bastardises” other people’s creations you’ve interacted with. Your voice is solely yours, and that is so, so valuable.

If you heavily suspect something contains a technical error, check with reputable sources, like some bigwig dictionary’s example sentences section, or whichever style guide you’ve chosen as your patron saint, or various editor(ial)s’ blog posts and articles, or Q&A/AMA sessions with editors or linguists, or you could try your luck and slide into their DMs if you have a particular someone you admire, or whatever combination of those options you fancy the most.

If you’ve heard or read someone irl (including yourself) say those words or that phrase/sentence/monologue before, then it’s probably fine, dude.

For hearing folks: Say it aloud. Use various text-to-speech settings to read it aloud to you. Have your friend or relative read it aloud. Does anything feel wonky, somehow? Does anything need a sprinkle of pizzazz to liven up the dead air? Do these words fit the mood you’re currently feeling during this scene? Did your companion stutter at any point?

Let your writs marinate alone for as long as you can afford to. Forget about it. Then, come back to it with a fresh perspective—not one of an author’s nor an editor’s, but pretend you are a reader who is reading some anonymous writer’s work with the intention of simply sinking into the read and enjoying whatever is served.

The world isn’t divided into “grammatically correct” and “grammatically incorrect”. There are many other variables to composing, writing, editing, proofreading, and speaking. If you have the time and headspace to learn about them, do so. Finding the proper terminologies to describe your ideas and experiences will benefit you with great satisfaction.

Punctuation marks, symbols, spacings, margins, line breaks, paragraph breaks, scene breaks, chapter breaks, placements, pacing, etc. are difficult and time-consuming for us copy editors too. Don’t beat yourself up for struggling with these technical details, but also, don’t be so afraid of them that you omit them entirely from your writs. Instead, shift your energy and attention to creating and maintaining your very own author’s style sheet, which you can then pass on to your editor to upgrade and tidy up for you as you kick back and relax, but it can certainly help ease your own writing process if you’ve sketched up your own guide for yourself.

Editing any piece of work—fiction or non-fiction or any hybrid of them—should always prioritise the author’s original vision and goals above all else. Don’t treat it like grading schoolwork with checks and crosses and /100 scores. There is no right and wrong to the art of writing. Why did you start writing in the first place? What do you want to explore and express in your crafts? What do you want your readers to get from your story? How do you want them to feel about your characters? What message are you trying to tell, and why is it important? Do you want to impress people more with your substance or your style? Linguistic unorthodoxy be damned; if your quirky choice gets the point across with all the right vibes and nuances ticked off, then go for it!

Remember that language is constantly evolving… as it should! What was once regarded as “incorrect” a century ago could easily be the norm nowadays. If you’ve decided to become the progenitor of a new trend, then you better own up to it! Be unapologetically compelling.

Remember that there is always a solution/answer to your confusion/curiosity. Even if you don’t find what you’re looking for right now, there’s still hope. Either you’ll find clarity when you least expect it, or you’ll create homemade organic closure for yourself, one way or another. The possibilities are endless. What matters most is to trust the process and never give up on yourself!

one of my worst writing sins is abusing my power to create compound words. i cannot write the sentence "The sun shone as bright as honey that afternoon." no. that's boring. "The sun was honey-bright that afternoon" however? yes. that sentence is dope as fuck. i do not care if "honey-bright" is a word in the english dictionary. i do not care if the sentence is grammatically correct. i will not change. i will not correct my erred ways. the laws of the english language are mine.

[amatun28]

My Top best BTS members fic in my whole fanfic reading journey. ( ao3, YT, Wattpad, tumblr) [Part:01]

🌸These fanfics have my whole heart. The amount of happiness,emotion,nostalgia i felt its beyond unimaginable. I will cherise those fics until the end of my life. Thank you of all those writer who britten my day with their incredible talent and creativity. 🌸

🌺Long thread ( please read the review with patience)🌺

💐Author💐

1. Rafae's fiction on YT

My fanfic journey started with YT. I know many of us doesn't read yt fanfic, although we have solid reason not to do. Some of us also think yt fanfic means cringy type of fic. But trust me Rafae is a gem. Like she is truly exceptional. She has a strong aura that anyone can be captivated.

🍁Her stories🍁

◼Throne [ Taehyung fanfic ] by Rafae on YT

Genre: Royal au, arranged marriage, Angst (so much angst), smut, romance, fluff, happy ending. [completed]

Summary : A story of Royalty. A Periodic tale of three kingdoms. A tale of kings and Queens. " Throne" Is a story that had everything; Love, loyalty, friendship, betrayal, evilness, partition, pain, suffering, development, empowerment and devotion. A tale that takes the Romance to different level after passing through the stages of love. A tale of a Queen, more than a King. A tale of woman who proved that there is nothing stronger in this world than a broken woman. The Queen who teaches us to look in the eyes of demons and say Here I am standing, come and try to break me.

-Review:

[Must read] : The first thing I will say is it's not the typical type of fanfic people usually read, where the female lead is always weak or submitted to the male lead. This fanfic will change someone's perspective on women. And about the male lead, he is so caring and soft-spoken when it comes to his woman, sweet, with a strong moral compass and leadership like a full package. His character is so beautifully written that you will feel pain in your heart thinking, In real life, why do these kinds of men not exist? This story also has many different side characters, and each character has a different story, and each of them is so painfully beautiful. This series has 100 episodes. I had never seen any YT fanfic this long. Even the epi time is also very long, about 25-30 mins. Some of you will think that its 100-episode series might be boring, but trust me, not a single episode of this series is boring. Every episode is packed with suspense, emotion, and breathtaking plot twists that will leave you on the edge of your seat. And the best part? The storytelling is so vivid that it feels like watching a historical K-drama unfold right before your eyes. If you read the story, you will see the mention of 3 kingdoms that were actually from the Korean map that ruled ancient time Korea during the Three Kingdoms Period. So just go give it a chance; I must say you won't regret it. Also, the BGM of this series is like a full chef's kiss. 🤌

[Note: There are some grammatical mistakes in this series. The author had to upload one EP every Tuesday of the week. On YT after uploading the EP, she couldn't even edit the episode. Otherwise, all of the things are so perfect, so just dig in. ☺]

▪🍁[Jungkook fanfic]🍁

◼ [Reading between the lines] by anonymous on (ao3)

Genre: kinda enemies to lovers au,University au, slow burn, fluff, Smut, also jungkook is so sweet:( [completed ]

Summary: You're an art student beginning your final year at university, and the assigned partner for thesis project? Much to your dismay, it's Jeon Jungkook. You don't like him — he doesn't seem to try very hard, and besides, he's on the soccer team, and you don't really get along with athletes.

Thanks to a lack of available models and a shortage of studio space, you end up spending a large portion of your semester locked in a tiny closet with Jungkook, where you eventually discover he's nothing at all like you originally thought.

-Review:

Plz this is so good. Like so so so good.😭 you have to read this. The slow burn, the tension, the way their relationship grows. This kind of books will make your chest hurt (in a good way). And about Jungkook, i hopelessly inlove with his character. Also the pace of love-story was perfect like PERFECT. I will never forget the emotion and butterfly i felt reading this. Also the smut 👌💋. So just go and read this. A must read.

◼ Phycho by @moonchiiild_ on wattpad

Genre: Personality disorder au (reader), established relationship, romance, angst, happy ending [ completed]

Summary: You are wounded and broken. Laughing at scars was your habit, but tending your wounds was his speciality. Some may call Jeon Jungkook a perfect man to exist, but you knew your husband better than that; if you were his Bonnie, he is your Clyde. Psycho, maniac, insane. World called you many names, but your husband calls you his wife and stands beside you when no one dares. Jungkook is your possession, your medicine. The world may have rejected a bitch like you, but it takes only one person to snatch the monster out of you.

-Review:

Masterpiece the only word go to this series. This book is mix of suspense, romance. The first chapter of this book got me chokehold and there was no way escape of this. I just can't stop thinking about this. The characters are so good specially jungkook, this man is embodiment of all my fantasies here. After reading this story the only thing you will say that if i can't find any man like Jungkook in this book then i dont want any man. Like He is the STANDARD. Also there was so much angst on this book. But in the end its all worth it :(((

▪🍁[Taehyung fanfic]🍁

◼ Perpetual Rain by @NovainRose_ on wattpad

Genre: Slow brun, some fluff, angst, Smut, Reaper au, kinda time travel au?? [ completed ]

Summary: A troubled - soon to be - college girl is ravaged by uncontrollable hallucinations that she can't explain. Making an unexpected friendship with a stranger she met on the street but, he has secrets of his own. "Seriously, you've got me worried." His hands pressed into the tables brim, ready to get up at any second. "You barely even know me, why are you so worried?" You stared at him, irritated and confused. He was so persistent! "Is it bad for someone to care? Even if it's for a stranger?" Dark brown eyes narrowing and chest-nut hair cast to the side with a tilt of his head. "Just trust me." But, could she?

-Review:

I am whipped; I am just WHIPPED. It's such a beautifully written, deeply emotional journey filled with longing, love, and pain that lingers like the scent of the rain on a stormy night. This book still haunts me like a nightmare. The writing is so mesmerizing. Also, this book is kind of atmospheric. There is also a 2nd part of this book called" Timeless Snow". But this book is really a slow burn, like really, really slow burn. So don't get frustrated. Just go and read; trust me, you will love it. This book is one of my the must-read books.

This is my first time posting on tumblr. And these fanfics are very close to my heart. If you love these stories then plz show lot of love to the original author of these stories. At the end of the day, fanfic writers rely on positive reviews from readers. Its make the original author happy. Also, if you love the recommendation, then please tell me also.😌 So that maybe i will also make the part 2 of my favourite fanfics. 👀

[lilarylrosie]

Just a Slice [Fanfic]

- Author's Notes: This story is for MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY!  Only sexual warnings will be added for chapters in the future as this will not be the only chapter. Will eventually be posted on AO3! Also the Doctor is giving me brainrot to the point where I need to write this fic because he gives off daddy vibes /j

                                          ooOOOOoo

Heaving with heavy breaths that escaped your chest, you leaned back on the nasty metal door that had slid shut behind you. A wash of exhaustion and hunger passed over you like a tidal wave, quickly clearing your mind, you look to examine the room around you and then your gaze landed on the toy stuck.. In a glass case? A feeling of dread crashed in your gut, as expected Sawyer's voice, or the 'The Doctor's' mocking but even smooth voice came to life in the room.

"Do you believe you're taking the moral high road.. Is that what you believe?" Letting out a shuddering breath, you securely kept your grab pack close. You could care less about 'morality' at this time. There wasn't much you could say but instead you let Sawyer continue his monologue. "Dear friend, let me illuminate for you an obvious truth: Survival necessities are choices. Difficult choices. This one is yours." Your eyes eventually landed on the little toy that was trapped in the glass case and your gut twisted once more getting a feeling you knew exactly what The Doctor is implying.

"If you want to leave this room, it'll come at a cost. It's this little life, or yours. You know what you have to do. Just the slightest pull, and you snuff whatever minuscule bit of light still flickers behind those faraway eyes."

"No.. no.. I wouldn't, ...but I need to.. what choice do I have" you mumble beneath your breath as stress came over once more, most of these toys deaths weren't your fault because they attacked you first and you were simply exercising your self-defense. You would never willingly kill a toy. However, The Doctor ignored you and kept talking; "That brutish glob of clay would do it." His voice ultimately held a disdain for them in the even tone, "Poppy would do it."

"It's YOUR mission. The door will open. Or, is maintaining your veil of your 'morality' more important? Act quickly."

Sensing it go quiet once more, you let out another shuddering breath and glanced to the toy, you were unwilling to end it life. Was there even a child behind that anymore? Wouldn't you be doing it a favor by putting it out of its misery? Biting your lip, your gaze traveled around the room looking for some kind of exit to escape. Hearing the banging behind you, you knew you didn't have a lot of time. Letting your gaze land on the plug, out of desperation you grabbed it with your grabpack and raising a hand to wipe the forming beads of sweat away, you aimed your pack to shoot and plug in the plug – closing your eyes with a slight turn of your head to the electricity going off and hearing the creature's pitiful cries before death.

You've killed this toy.. but was it any different from before?

"Strange, I'd expected more mortality.. so you DO understand. Good, good. Come now, let's see which of us beasts of burden destiny favors, hm?"

Feeling sickened, you gritted your teeth and turned around to see the door open. It was your chance now to go and confront that monster. You went ahead to enter the next room, and cringed at the creepy but dark and empty room; being completely immersed in the fog. It made it hard to see. Slowly being careful and stepping onto the platform, you stiffen up again to hearing the voice speak up again as the platform started to rise. "Do you hear it like I do? Off somewhere. Somewhere far. Beyond this place. Any place. A bell."

"A bell?" You questioned with a skeptical look, "What are you talking about?" You're starting to believe this man is just playing with you. You don't hear anything instead The Doctor ignores you and keeps talking. "For whom does it toll, you think? A wounded little pup lifts it head beneath the shadow of its master's raised foot. For whom does it toll?" A sinister laugh followed and soon after you reached the top.

Your nerves felt like they were on fire, the hairs on your skin were sticking up, unlike the others you've faced, there feelings screaming at you to run away. "No no. I need to do this," you reassure yourself with a fierce pounding heart, "I faced all those other experiments and Catnap, what makes this any different?" Taking a deep breath and grateful for your own pep talk, you firmly held onto your grabpack and continued forward. Creeped out by the amount of TV's, you already feel like you're being watched.

"I'm not the one killing him, he's already attacking me and hurt my friends or at least I think they are.." You justified to yourself on his oncoming demise. With your feet clanking against the metal floor it was simply impossible to stay quiet in this area, approaching both metal doors with newfound bravery, the doors seemed to open on their own and the sight somewhat confused you. A giant machine?

"Not even the ground beneath your feet."

You didn't get anytime to look further on what Sawyer was until you flinched to something grabbing you and you frantically turned your head to see some kind of endo-TV grab you to then throw on you on the ground, a little grunt escaped and you stared it appalled. It gave little mocking 'hello' sign with its fingers until the latch opened up beneath you and you fell with a scream, unfortunately, you ended up hitting your head against the metal floor and stars invaded your vision. Your vision blurred and darkness slowly overcame you with painful throbbing.

"Oh what a disappointment. You will be put to good use." Was all you heard of The Doctor's voice until unconsciousness took over. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Drowsily, your eyes cracked open and you tried to move.. You couldn't move. With wrists strapped to the bed, your legs were securely strapped as well and your heart paced with anxiety. It felt cold, you then notice your clothes were changed into just a dirty old hospital gown. Struggling, your eyes darted around.

"Keep struggling. All it does it make me itch to explore you more germ." The mocking but even voice spoke out smoothly.

Cranking your head, it felt as if you were hearing the voice all around, but you froze at the sight of the The Doctor. The large metallic TV you've seen earlier was there, with a cloak covering most of all it, it was present, but the only thing that kept your attention on it was the massive eye staring right back at you. "What's wrong with you, is this about wanting to use me!." You've tried to defend yourself and it emanated a cruel laugh from The Doctor who was observing a scalpel it was holding in its grasp. "My dear. This isn't about me, this is about you."

Walking closer with its heavy footsteps, your heart paced when cool metallic fingers were placed on your stomach. "It's been SO long since I've had another human down here, Dr. White may have never been able to last, but I wonder how long you'll last."

Trailing its hard metal hand to your neck to then put pressure on your windpipe, you started to choke with tears slowly forming at the edges of your eyes. It felt as if all the air was leaving your lungs, and your brain screamed for oxygen. The hand squeezed harder and your will to stay awake started to wither away, your lungs desperately begged for air. Is this how were going to die? A faraway look appeared, and black edges appeared in your sight, but then, you suddenly gasped in a whole bunch of air when Sawyer let go of your neck. Coughing and breathing fast, your tears slid down your cheeks as the color returned to your ashen pale skin as he laughed once more.

"I forgot how most humans can't go without oxygen, I wished to test that theory once more . I'll be taking notes."

You were hit with a pang of deja'vu to those last words as you kept gasping out for more air to consume greedily. "W-Why," you've mustered out weakly. "Why didn't you kill me?"

"I've expected you to be smart about this. I told you it's about you, your use will be put to my use. The Prototype could care less about what I do to you." Feeling your heartbeat speed up, The Doctor lowered the scalpel and you struggled with a scared look. "Please, please don't!" you begged, afraid of dying. Ignoring the human's whining, Sawyer started to slice your thigh and you writhed in pain with a cry keeping in whimpers. Blood started to leak out, and you screamed when he dug in further in with a jerk the pain that blared through your body forced a pained scream. "STOP!"

"Hmm the subject is strong. Aside from its whining I need more than just a few samples." Using his other hand, he lowered the vial and it started to fill up with your warm blood. The pain blossomed in your body, and you shook. With fat tears sliding down, The Doctor seemed to like your reactions to the pain, you didn't doubt that The Doctor is enjoying this but you didn't care as the pain intense to think about it.. Taking out the tool with another jerk which had you cry out, he raised the vial and ignored the blood pooling beside you.

"This shall do. I can't wait to make into something that will be extraordinary." ----------------------------------------------- Next Chapter

[erodasfishtacos]

Let's Be Alone Together - Trucker!H Prt II

prompt: harry doesnt understand why he asked her to travel with him, why he cares, or why he seems so drawn to a girl who cant stop apologizing and is too kind for her own good.

word count: 3.8k words

warnings: depression, suicidal ideation, lack of resources (food), childhood trauma - this is not a light-hearted read so use caution for yourselves!

author's note:

the first part was posted on tumblr here

there are currently eight more installments of this up on my patreon and still being posted

I upload a piece of writing every 1-2 days.

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2

one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out here

---

YN had laid back down in his bed after they had settled that she would go with him, that neither of them were attached to anyone else in any way, and all this was a bit of company - nothing more, nothing less.

Harry tried to keep his mind blank as he watched the road ahead of him.

It was a slippery slope that typically never led to happy thoughts when he lets himself be alone with them for too long at once.

They would creep in, like slow-cresting waves, and then hit him with the impact of a tsunami.

His body moved in practice, subconscious motions as he shifted gears with ease, flicking the windshield wipers up a notch because this weather was brutal and unrelenting.

Normally, Harry wasn’t concerned about such treacherous conditions where the roads were a sheet of white, snow flurrying rapidly and thick enough the clog the wind streams to make it nearly blinding.

He sickeningly enough enjoyed it because of the risk.

The higher possibility of death.

It was because what was the worst that could happen?

His truck could veer off the road.?

Hydroplane off the asphalt, hitting him into a guardrail, flipping it over until he’s falling down the steep embankment?

He would never want that to happen, only for Birdie’s sake, but if she wasn’t a factor then his answer would be different, most days.

 Harry hated to admit that there were more days than not that he thought about how much he wouldn’t mind such a thing to happen to him.

His life had never been easy, it’s why he fled his home when he was sixteen, lied about his age, and had a rough-around-the-edges older man who had hired him for some odd jobs around his mechanics shop taught him everything he needed to know about driving a semi-truck.

And as soon as he could get his commercial license, he found a job that had him driving a truck from one end of the states to the other to deliver furniture from a custom brand out of Canada.

He didn’t mind the job, except for when he was granted his time off.

It was three weeks on, two off, and for people with families, children, it was rigorous schedule but they looked forward to having the extended time to relax at home before another three weeks took them away.

Harry didn’t know what to do with himself for that two weeks.

His bosses had looked at him like he was insane when he asked if he could just not take those two weeks off.

The first time, he came back to his hometown because he didn’t know where else to go, and it hadn’t ended well - he gave his mother too many chances and it resulted in him heading back out onto the road with twelve hundred less dollars in his wallet.

He never went back, left all of his belongings at his childhood home, changed his number so that his mother couldn’t get a hold of him, and cooped up in extended stay hotels wherever he landed for those two weeks.

Occasionally, he would meet a cute girl at the local bar or a waitress at the diner who he would spend a night with.

He really wasn't a one-night-stand guy or just a casual hookup either, but he sought out those women when the thoughts got dark, when the loneliness seemed overwhelming, and he really wasn't seeking out sex as much as he was comfort and intimacy even if just for a few hours.

He never felt enough of a connection with any of them to visit on his next off-time, even if he had promised it a few times to smooth over the hurt he had caused by crushing their hopes of a relationship.

His work paid for his meals during his weeks on, he stayed in cheap hotels, and didn’t spend money on anything except necessities that his company card didn’t cover which led to quite a hefty sum in his bank account.

Enough that he could purchase on his own semi-truck, used and beat to shit, breaking down every couple thousand miles and causing more financial burden than it was worth, but it helped him start his own business.

He had his own transport company now, just his truck and him, nothing fancy or overly complicated.

He could pick and choose his work, always picking the highest paid contracts, and it really made him successful.

Enough so that he could purchase a new, top-of-the-line semi which he reasoned was the best investment because not only was he purchasing his work truck but his home as he would be living out of it.

Ever since he started his own company, with no off time because he had contracts lined up to fulfill for the next year, and then some that never gave him a break - just like he wanted, no time to get too lost in his own miserable shit that he preferred to suppress. 

No time off meant no life.

Harry hadn’t chatted anyone up at the bar, hell, he can’t remember the last time that he was even in one.

He can’t remember the last time he had sex either.

At some point, the company of a woman didn't quell those thoughts.

Sex workers knocked on his cabin door quite frequently, his flashy truck drew their attention with the hopes that he would be a generous tipper, but he always shooed them off.

He would be extra pissed if they woke him.

At some point between his first job and now, his depression had worsened to a deeper state than it had ever been in his life.

Life was a routine, monotonous and never-changing, miserable and defeating.

Harry convinced himself he didn’t need people, he only needed the open road and his dog, and that would be enough to suffice.

It was…

Somedays.

But other days (most of them), Harry found this sense of hopelessness, the weird in between where he wouldn’t do anything to end his life, but he wasn’t going to go kicking and screaming if it happened.

This world wasn’t made for him, he had told himself a long time ago.

It was destined to be a path of unhappiness from the moment he was born to the woman his mother was.

Happiness, prosperity, excitement towards life had never been an option when the woman who raised him rejected it all.

Harry couldn’t possibly start to consider his own behaviors of inviting this girl on a five-day trip with him around the country.

He was just being nice, is what he’ll tell himself because he’s fine being alone, really, he is.

It’s been this way for years; this was certainly just a blimp before his life becomes routine again.

++

Birdie is always sleeping in the passenger seat during the day.

It was weird to look to the side to see the seat empty, the expensive leather worn from the amount of time her lazy ass slept there.

However, Birdie was back with YN, tucked into her like they were the best of friends, and Harry never existed.

Traitor.

Acting as if Harry hadn't nursed her back to health when she was a puppy, too young to be away from her mother, and completely reliant on Harry to survive.

Could fool him.

Harry didn’t even want to acknowledge that Birdie has never taken to another person, ever, like she had with their visitor.

YN must have not slept well for weeks at this point, obvious by the dark circle under her eyes that had been covered with thick concealer when they’d first met.

YN didn't stir from his bed until nearly five in the evening, he had kept the blinds down, and the black-out curtains drawn so that no light was seeping in to disturb her as she slept, making up for lost time.

When YN finally does wake up, after using the bathroom, she pads up to the front of the cabin, and sits in the passenger seat, legs crossed and tucked under her as she glances out the windshield at the snowy mountains ahead of them.

Harry looks over at her, his eyes accidentally falling on her chest before they’re darting back up to her face - she wasn’t looking at him anyways but the henley she was wearing wasn’t the thickest and the pebbling of her nipples was obvious.

“Sleep alright?” Harry asks, eyes already back on the road, with this weather he didn’t have the luxury of not being vigilant.

“Yes, thank you,” YN replies as she curls her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees, and resting her chin on her kneecaps.

Harry just nods, he’s not good at conversation, at one point he was but that was a skill he wasn’t familiar with anymore.

The extent of his communication was over the radio, letting other truckers know that they’re driving like assholes or the customers he had contracts with - that was really it.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, it’s comfortable for Harry but he can tell by the way that YN keeps looking over at him and then out the window, that it wasn’t the same for her as the only noise filtering in was the engine.

“Why don’t you have a home to go back to?” YN’s voice breaks the quiet, her voice is unsure because what were they supposed to being doing on this trip together?

Was YN supposed to keep him company by conversation since her purpose to come wasn’t sex.

Or did Harry just want the physical company?

Just a body in the seat, nothing more than that.

“Why don’t you?” Harry replies in a terse tone, it was defensive because he didn’t talk about his past, to anyone, fucking ever.

He felt emotion when he thought about what his home used to be.

It trudges up anger, helplessness, desperation.

All things that his depression helped him ignore.

He isn’t an open book, the most binded close, lock-protected type because he wasn’t going to share anything that made him vulnerable, weak, and the only thing that got him to the point was recalling what a shitty childhood he had.

Shitty was an understatement.

Harry feels instant regret for his choice of words when YN flinches at his response back, arms coming to wrap around her knees a bit tighter, and that has him cursing himself out in his mind.

He didn’t want YN to be scared of him, he could tell she was already a jumpy thing which most likely came with the required hypervigilance of the work that she does, and he doesn’t want her to have to feel that way with him.

“I’m sorry,” YN apologizes, a nervousness in her voice as she positions her body more towards the door, and away from him.

Fuck.

Harry doesn’t reply because he doesn’t know how to say ‘sorry’ without showing emotion.

As he never did before, vulnerability was his worst fear, and he was going to do anything and everything possible to never show it.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Harry says instead, glancing over at her but she’s looking out the window, head now resting on the cold glass.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” YN dismisses easily, not turning to look back over at him.

And she didn’t say it in a way that she wanted sympathy or that anything like that.

Her voice was kind and forgiving, understanding which just shows how beat down she is.

Tired enough to just accept others' behaviors because that’s easier than fighting, accepting how people talked to her because she was so used to it that it didn’t seem like anything special when they did.

And God, that made Harry feel like absolute and utter shit.

He didn’t know YN, no, but he had a feeling that she really was a sweet girl under all the anxiousness and turmoil, and didn’t deserve that treatment from anyone.

Harry doesn’t want YN to feel like she has to get used to him treating her the same way that others have but they only have a few days together.

Why did this bother Harry so much when in the grand scheme of things, their time together was so limited that he shouldn’t care like he does, and he’ll continue to lie to himself - to chalk it up to a lame excuse.

Instead of apologizing, his voice is probably still too gruff when he responds, “You shouldn’t be used to shit like that. You need to stand up for yourself, not let people walk all over you. S’not right.”

YN picks at a loose thread of the pajamas pants she’s wearing, “I shouldn’t have asked, it’s my fault. I get why you said that.”

Harry hasn’t registered guilt as an emotion he’s had for a very long time, it hasn’t been a necessity, and it’s not YN’s fault that it's pounding inside his skull right now.

There’s something about how understanding she’s being, kind and giving him every opportunity to act like it never happened, and she deserves to be treated nicer - nicer than he was treating her too.

“S’not your fault,” Harry shakes his head, his fingers knuckling the steering wheel a bit harder because going from zero to a hundred of getting his feelings back wasn’t an easy thing to try to sift through - it was overwhelming, and he didn’t know why it was happening.

YN doesn’t say anything else, props her chin back on her knees after a while and watches the open road, her eyes trailing over the snow-capped mountain tops, to the wildlife they would occasionally see off in the plateaus. 

Harry finds himself wanting to talk.

He wants to know more about her, but he can’t do that when he just shut her out.

“You can go nap again, if you want. It’s going to be at least another hour before we’ll stop,” Harry tries to keep his voice more friendly, but it just comes out flat, monotone, bored.

YN had been leaning down to scratch behind Birdie’s ear, lounging right at her feet on the floor, perpetually dozing off - “I won’t sleep tonight if I do. If I’m bothering you, I can go back there.”

She slips her feet out from underneath her, standing up with the intention to get out of Harry’s space.

“No, that’s-” Harry cuts off when he realizes he had wrapped his fingers around her wrist to stop her, light with no real intention to stop her actions.

They both look down but Harry’s dropping his hold on her, continuing where he left off without acknowledging the touch, “That’s not what I meant. I just know this can be boring. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to feel like you had to sit up here with me.”

YN doesn’t seem alarmed or angered by the touch, she didn’t try to rip from his hold or shake him off, her body language was as calm as it had been before.

It was a relief because Harry was starting to have a sense of anxiety that YN  might be scared of him or intimidating, and he knew he came off…strong, unapproachable, unfriendly is just a few ways to describe him.

However, his intention is never to make her feel fear or concern about her safety around him.

His goal in these past twenty-four hours has become the exact opposite, an intense urge to protect her, even though he doesn’t know her or what she’s been through.

“I like sitting up here with you,” YN tells him shyly, her eyes darting away from him as she moves to sit back down in the passenger chair.

It had been a miracle that Birdie hadn’t snagged it in the short amount of time that YN had been out of it.

Harry’s chest warms at the admission, but he doesn’t let it show.

Of course he doesn’t.

Fuck, she’s pretty and Harry has to look back at the road because he could just stare, admire, and try to memorize her features because each time he gets a good look, he feels like he discovers something new about her.

He doesn’t say anything back, only leans over to turn up the heat a bit when he realizes that she has goosebumps on her arms, and she smiles to herself at that - almost like she doesn’t realize that she did.

And that anger floods in because all he did was turn the fucking heat up for her and apparently that gesture, that miniscule gesture, was enough to cause her to smile which make Harry wonder what the fuck she had gone through in her life.

Harry likes her smile, he thinks that he’d like to see it more often, and that thoughts are scary to him - all of this is more terrifying than it should be because his mind was becoming occupied with her.

So much so that he hadn’t thought much about his depression, his lowness, that dank place he tries to keep his mind out of at all today when normally it’s the only thing that is circulating in his mind.

++

Harry had been very spot on when he predicted that they would hit the next town in just a little of the hour.

He hadn’t eaten yet today and with a realization that he didn’t think that YN had either.

“Did you eat anything?” Harry asks with a frown, he knows that he startles YN a bit because they hadn’t spoken in that hour, and they probably would have if Harry had shut down the initial attempt at conversation, “At all today?”

“Not yet,” YN tells him as she sits up, stretching her arms above her head.

Harry knows to keep his eyes up because even out of his peripheral vision, he can see the flash of her smooth belly as the shirt rising just the slightest, and since when did he find his eyes wandering to that of any woman before?

It seemed that every inch of her body was of interest to him.

And even though that sounds bad, it truly wasn’t in a predatory or sexual way, it was more of an awe, admiration to how beautiful she was, and how perfectly she was crafted albeit much too skinny.

He can see the outline of her ribcage when she stretches, not enough fat on her bones to disguise them at all, her hip bones more prominent than they should be, and all of this a clear indication that she wasn’t eating enough.

And was Harry the person to talk to?

No, not really.

He was skinnier than he should be too.

Depression sucked the appetite from him, but he did enough to keep his muscles, even if his ribs are showing more than his abdominal muscles at this point but it was hard to have any motivation to care about his appearance that much. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” Harry doesn’t mean for it to come out as accusatory as it did, he really needed to work on his tone.

YN pulls at the hem of her shirt, almost like she realized that Harry noticed how skin and bones she was under her clothes, “I am but I also learned how to cope with the hunger pains when I get them. I try to save my money to eat when it gets to that point, where it hurts.”

Harry doesn’t like that one fucking bit.

“You’re not going to do that bullshit when you’re with me, you got it?” Harry huffs, letting his irritation show and he doesn’t know how it translates - whether she gets that it is because it concerns him or that she thinks that he just finds her annoying.

It’s a tossup at this point.

“You’re going to eat when you’re hungry, no stomach pains, none of that shit,” Harry meets her eye, facial expressions firm to show that he means it.

“I’m sorry,” YN apologizes again, eyes wider and remorseful, “I’ll eat.”

Harry wishes he had the words to tell her not to apologize, to explain his behavior, and that it was all with good intent.

He wasn’t yelling at her, but he was concerned.

Instead of saying those things, he just grunts out, “Good.”

“Did you eat?” YN asks in return, not throwing it in his face but genuine concern in her words.

Harry holds up his coffee cup, “This is my fuel.”

“But…you have money to eat?” 

The confusion knits her brow in a way that shouldn’t be as cute as it is.

“Yeah, m’just not hungry a lot of the times,” Harry shrugs, it’s not a lie.

YN’s lip twist at the side, thoughtful as she reties the knot of the pajama pants, too big and slipping down her hips, her voice quiet like if Harry hadn’t really been listening, he wouldn’t have heard it, and she probably wouldn’t have said it again.

“I really love McDonalds.”

+

[xx-zikeri-xx]

So I have a really embarrassing story about 11 year old phannie me that I was saving to tell dan and phil personally if I ever got to meet them, but I was just thinking about it and realized that I actually don't want to see their faces cringe at me in real life - so I guess I'll tell it here bc I need to be freed from this lmao

So from the ages of 8/9 to 12/13, kids in my school area had to participate in this club called 4-H, which I actually can't remember what we did other than a yearly presentation to teach each other something, but in my last year of doing it (circa 2015) I had been obsessed with dnp and I procrastinated coming up with an idea for the yearly presentation (I was actually planning on not going that day but my mother wouldn't let me stay home) and so at the last second, while watching dnp, I was like, "oh my god wait brilliant idea!! I can teach my classmates how to speak british!! They have words that mean different things over there, I can teach them that!!" And so I shittily put together a poster board from words I had heard from dnp and that I'd googled. I sat there and watched people actually teach things and knew I was going to completely fail up there, but I wasn't the type to defy authority (4-H person and my teacher) so I went up there, no notes, no plan, and read off my poster board. Everyone was dead silent when I stopped talking after a few minutes (it was supposed to last 5-15mins), nobody asked me any questions even though that's what we're supposed to strive for, and the 4-H person gave me a bad score, which normally would've been fine bc I didn't care about the club, but my teacher that year decided to use the scores as actual grades and I nearly failed that class (other factors were involved but that didn't help).

The kid who taught everyone how to make a paper airplane won first place, though I actually didn't learn how to and still don't know how.

[loquaciousquark]

you have been my #1 favorite fanfic author of all time for like 7-8 years now for your fenhawke and ive always thought "god i would give anything for quark to write solavellan" but i respected that it wasnt your thing. so imagine the pure unbridled euphoria of checking in on your blog this week to see that he finally got to you. i actually screamed. whatever you come up with i know it is going to absolutely change my life and i am so excited <3

i’m so. sad. i'm SO sad. i was so happy for a decade just being mildly annoyed every time he crossed my dash and now i am having feelings and opinions and i don’t WANT THEM and the only way to get rid of them is to write them out of me, this is why i don’t love fenris or astarion at all anymore obviously

and like, I still don’t love Solas! I still think some things he does and some goals he has are really, really stupid! but this character I created to love him really loves him, and I really love her and want her to be happy even though she lives only inside my head, and that means I need to lay down some structure around her romance to get the shape of it, to build something I can make sense of. I may not love him, but I like him much more than I did, and I certainly understand him better than I did the first time around.

And to be honest, there’s a part of me glad I’m coming to it as late as I have. I don’t think I’ve ever read a single Solavellan fic in my life (I actually had to pause here to check the spelling). I have NO idea what tropes are popular with him or what interpretations are the biggest. I have a lot of opinions on how his personality and identity work in a romance with this particular character I’ve created, but because I’ve been so siloed I have no idea if I’m bucking the grain or not, which is fine by me.

Plus, it helps I’m not going to have ten years to build up a lot of personal headcanons and jossable thoughts before playing the new game. I’m not someone who easily ignores canon when it clashes with my imagination for the major things, so I think this will (hopefully) keep me from major disappointments.

It's kinda funny; earlier today I was going back through my DAI tag and reminding myself of all my impressions from the first time I played the game. Some of them I definitely still stand by; others have completely changed. I even said twice that a Lavellan/Solas romance would be my next playthrough, which was true if ten years late.

But it's things like: apparently the first time through I loved Solas and Sera, both of which certainly were not true going into this replay. (I barely even have a memory of Solas and Priory ever being in the party together, though the historical records say I took him to Adamant.) I apparently had a lot of hopes Gideon Emery would be voicing Fenris. I originally thought Priory was going to romance Bull, which is very ?????? after all this time. (I did still, even then, know Here Lies the Abyss completely broke her as a character, and ten years on I never could fix her for good.)

I really did not expect to change my mind on Solas going into this replay, I guess is the point. I replayed because knowing the story of DAI and Solas, I felt it was a story most personalized to elves and specifically a Solas-romancing Lavellan, and that was the worldstate I wanted to take into the new game. I played it out because that's the kind of person I am (I can't just invent characters wholesale in my head) but I really thought it was going to be a perfunctory playthrough as a stepping stone to a different game and a different PC and (presumably) a different romance. I didn't expect to love this character as much as I do, and even if I don't have ten years to write her out the way I did Hawke, I feel like I still owe it to her & her doomed romance to give her a little time in the spotlight. Lucky girl!

[vanilladollette]

Pleaseee any male x gyeong seok  no one has wrote anything for him with a M reader

Waiting For You

Pairing: Park Gyeong-Seok x Male reader Summary: Park Gyeong-seok, a devoted single father, never considered dating again until he met you, his daughter's daycare teacher, whose kindness and patience gradually broke down his walls, leading him to finally ask you out—only for you to reveal you'd been waiting for him to do so all along.

Word Count: 1.3k

Author's note: none

Gyeong-seok never imagined himself dating again. It wasn't just that he had no time—though, between work and raising his daughter, time was a rare luxury—but because he had convinced himself that no one would want to date a man with a child from a previous relationship.

Not that he blamed them. Dating a single father was a commitment beyond romance; it required patience, understanding, and a willingness to embrace a child who wasn't theirs. Even if he did meet someone who could look past that, would they ever love Na-yeon as much as he did? Could he trust them to stay? To be someone she could rely on?

It was easier not to try. Easier to focus on work and his daughter, to push aside loneliness and tell himself he was fine. He had Na-yeon. That was enough.

At least, that’s what he believed—until he met you.

The decision to enroll Na-yeon in daycare had not been an easy one.

Gyeong-seok had done everything he could to balance work and fatherhood, but there came a point where he had to admit that it was becoming too difficult. Bringing Na-yeon to work had been an option for a while, but it became clear that watching over her while managing his duties was stretching him thin. He needed help.

That was how he found himself sitting in front of a desk, filling out forms with tired but steady hands, occasionally glancing at his daughter as she clung to his arm. She was still young—barely four—but observant. She could tell something was changing, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it.

“You’ll be coming here during the day from now on,” Gyeong-seok explained softly, turning to her once the paperwork was done. He smoothed a hand over her dark hair, his heart twisting at the slight pout on her lips. “Appa has to work, but I’ll come pick you up every afternoon, okay? You’ll make lots of friends here.”

Na-yeon pressed her lips together, clearly considering his words before looking around. “Are you staying, too?”

“No, sweetheart.” He exhaled quietly. “But I’ll always come back.”

She didn’t look convinced.

That was when you entered the room.

“Na-yeon, right?” you said with a warm smile, crouching down to her level. “I heard we have a new friend joining us today.”

Na-yeon eyed you warily at first, her small hand tightening around Gyeong-seok’s sleeve. She didn’t trust easily, not when it came to new environments, but you had a certain warmth about you.

“You know,” you added conspiratorially, “I happen to know where we keep the best toys. And the snacks. But I only share them with my favorite people.”

That earned you a reluctant stare, then a small, curious glance toward her father. Gyeong-seok gave her an encouraging nod.

“You can go with him, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

After another moment’s hesitation, she slowly let go of his sleeve, allowing you to take her hand instead.

That was the first time Gyeong-seok noticed the way his heart beat just a little differently when he looked at you.

It became routine.

Every morning, Gyeong-seok would drop Na-yeon off before heading to work, and every afternoon, he would return to pick her up.

At first, it was simple exchanges—short greetings, polite smiles. But as time passed, the conversations became longer. Some mornings, when Na-yeon was feeling extra clingy, you would help soothe her with a gentle voice and a distraction. Other times, when Gyeong-seok arrived in the afternoons, you would tell him little stories about her day, how she had made a new friend or insisted on only eating the strawberry-flavored snacks.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that you genuinely cared. Not just as part of your job, but because you truly enjoyed working with children.

And—though he wouldn’t admit it out loud—he found himself looking forward to those moments with you.

Sometimes, work kept him late.

He hated those days the most—knowing that Na-yeon would be waiting for him, that she might feel abandoned even though he tried his best. But every time he arrived late, breathless with apology, he always found you waiting with her.

You never left her alone.

“She’s been fine,” you would assure him with an easy smile, even as Na-yeon clung to his leg and buried her face into his pants. “We read some extra stories while we waited.”

It should have been a simple kindness, but to Gyeong-seok, it meant more than he could say.

Maybe that was when his resolve started to crack.

Maybe that was when he started to hope.

Gyeong-seok wasn’t sure when it started—when his thoughts began lingering on you even after he left the daycare, when he started noticing the way his heart felt lighter in your presence.

It could have been the way you were always patient with Na-yeon, never treating her like a burden. Or the way you smiled when you talked about her progress, proud as if she were your own. Maybe it was the way you waited for them on the days he was late, never complaining, never making him feel worse than he already did.

Whatever it was, it snuck up on him.

And now, he was standing outside the daycare with his hands stuffed into his pockets, trying to ignore the nervous thrum in his chest.

Today, for once, he wasn’t late. He had made sure to wrap up his work early, determined to pick Na-yeon up on time. But even as he walked inside and found her coloring with the other children, his focus was on you.

This was ridiculous. He was a grown man—a father. He wasn’t some shy teenager trying to ask his crush out for the first time. And yet, as you approached with your usual warm smile, he found himself hesitating.

“She had a good day,” you told him, nodding toward Na-yeon. “She was a little quiet this morning, but she opened up after storytime. Oh, and she insisted I save her an extra strawberry snack for tomorrow.”

Gyeong-seok huffed a soft laugh. “That sounds like her.”

You chuckled, then glanced at him, head tilting slightly. “You okay? You look like you have something on your mind.”

Damn. You were too perceptive.

Gyeong-seok inhaled sharply, glancing away for a moment before finally gathering his courage. “I was wondering… if you’d like to get dinner sometime. With me.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, your eyebrows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across your face before your lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “Oh?”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know I’m not exactly… the most ideal person to ask out. I have a daughter. My schedule is unpredictable. I probably won’t be the easiest person to date. But I—I like you.” His voice was steady despite the nervous edge in his stomach. “And I’d like to take you out, if you’re interested.”

For a moment, you just looked at him, your expression unreadable.

Then, you grinned.

“You know, I was starting to think you’d never ask.”

Gyeong-seok blinked. “You—what?”

You shrugged, amusement dancing in your eyes. “I like you too, Gyeong-seok. And yeah, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

His heart did something strange in his chest—something warm, something unfamiliar. Relief mixed with something dangerously close to happiness.

Na-yeon suddenly tugged at his sleeve, looking up at him with curious eyes. “Appa, can we have strawberries for dinner?”

You laughed, and the sound was enough to make his decision feel even more right.

“Well,” you said, glancing between the two of them, “how about we start with dinner first, and then maybe—just maybe—I’ll tell you where to get the best strawberry desserts in the city?”

Na-yeon’s eyes widened with excitement. “Really? Appa, can we?”

Gyeong-seok chuckled, finally allowing himself to smile fully. He met your gaze, something unspoken passing between you.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That sounds perfect.”

[distantlivess]

"i know loa is real because I've had successful manifestations before but i don't think shifting is-

Now, I had stepped into a world just as real as this. I am telling you, there are worlds within worlds within worlds, and they are all here . . right here . . just like turning on a radio. You turn it ever so slightly, and you have a new wave length and a new station coming in, bringing in something entirely different. And they are not interfering with each other! And these worlds are all here now and they are peopled, just as we are peopling this world, and they are just as real as this world. It’s terrestrial and it doesn’t…you don’t have to walk to it. I was on the bed. I seemed to walk into it . . I would say … what? ten feet away, but the same area permeated the bed, and the bed did not obstruct it; and that world into which I stepped did not obstruct the house that I lived in, in Beverly Hills. It’s all here . . the whole vast world . . worlds within worlds within worlds!

- Neville Goddard - Facts Overflow The World

"i know shifting is real because I've had unexplainable experiences before but shifting to a fictional worls is-"

Tonight some unknown author is writing a story in order to pay the rent. The story may not sell, but for a moment he will lose himself in its creation, and when his story comes to pass in the tomorrows, those whose lives will be touched will not recognize his harvest. Tonight the movie, “A Night to Remember” will be shown on television. Although the movie was recently made, it is based upon the sinking of the Titanic in 1912, which duplicated a book called Futility, written in 1898. In the novel, a ship filled with the rich and complacent was on its maiden voyage, when it sank on an iceberg in the Atlantic. Fourteen years later the White Star Line built a duplicate of the imaginary ship described in the book, filled it with the rich and complacent, where it sank on its maiden voyage on an iceberg in the Atlantic. And people say there is fiction? No, there is no fiction. There is not a moment in time when imagination is not acting, causing the events of the world. You may not remember your thoughts and deny you have anything to do with what you are reaping, but you can only harvest what you plant.

- Neville Goddard - “He is my resurrection” lecture

[tobiasdrake]

Have you heard about the Fuji TV situation?

Nope, this is the first I'm hearing of it. Holy shit. @_@

I have no words.

...

Well, I have some words, and those words are "Kinda gross that the article's main concern is 'But what effect will this have on Dragon Ball and One Piece?'"

Literally, those franchises' only connection to this story is that they are two of many shows that happen to be produced by Fuji

We have here a story about the misogyny and sexual abuse of corporate culture run wild in the worst possible way. A serious and horrific account of the way one corporation is weaponizing power against women in its employ.

And what they want to talk about is this.

"The latest casualties are two shows that still made it to broadcast just fine, but there were no sponsorships for the episodes while they aired! They had to run different commercials!"

Uh. No. The casualties are the real human people who were hurt. A TV show is not a casualty. I don't think Sazae-san's feelings were hurt by the fact that Toyota wasn't running commercials on her program. I think she'll get over it.

And then they just... pick One Piece and Dragon Ball out of a hat to talk about because those are popular IPs.

This isn't reporting. This is three paragraphs of speculative fanfiction about a hypothetical Big Scoop that the article writer hopes might exist some day to talk about. Real people have been hurt and this article's going,

Journalist: But what effect will this have on Dragon Ball and One Piece!? Question: Uhh... Are Dragon Ball and One Piece involved in what happened in... any way? Journalist: Nope. Question: Do you have any solid accounts of Fuji pulling these shows from broadcast or something? Journalist: None whatsoever. They are completely unrelated to the story. Question: ...so then...? Journalist: So, the obvious question is WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN TO DRAGON BALL AND ONE PIECE!?!?

The headline is about Dragon Ball and One Piece. The header image is Goku and Luffy. And their only involvement in this story is the author wildly speculating straight out of their asshole that something newsworthy might eventually happen to these shows some day.

God, journalism is so fucked.

Sorry to go off like this. I appreciate you for letting me know about this. I've just... had major beefs with the way we report news for like fifteen years now.