#i should be writing the fic but here we are | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acynicalsweetheart · 2 days ago

Note

Could you please write high school reader with daddy issues and meeting Jimmy. She lies to her mother to drop her off at a friend's house just to see Jimmy. He grooms her and thinks he has power over her when one day she drugs him ties him up and rapes him when he wakes up. +using a dildo on him for funsies :3

pairing: jimmy x fem!reader

word count: 3.9k

dead dove do not eat: 18+, non-con/rape, dub-con, grooming sort of, age gap, daddy issues, daddy kink, drugs, smoking, virginity loss

author's note: hai no dildo on jimmy unfortunately LMFAO did try to follow everything else tho.. umm this took forever and ending is very rushed and very ass.. it’s this long cause i felt i had to make it a fic for the grooming aspect so . yah. interaction/feedback appreciated!!

You’re on your way home when this strange, shady type you’ve seen lurking outside of your school walks up to you. Is this it? The last moment of your life, the end, kaput? Okay, paranoia’s getting the better of you, might just be a new janitor or something—

“You got a lighter?” He asks ever-so-casually.

He’s… old. Real old. Like, fourty-something kind of old.

“What?”

“A lighter?” He makes a gesture with his hand, pretending to draw a lighter flame with his thumb.

“Umm… no,” why the hell would you have a lighter? “No I—I don’t, sorry.”

You didn’t think you looked that old. Or like you smoke, for that matter. It’s kind of hard to take offense to his words though, when he’s that cute. Cute in a hobo sort of way.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, hand gliding down his rough face like you not having a lighter is the worst thing since Elvis.

Is this what they call withdrawal?

“But I think they have some at the store.” You point your finger down the street, giving him a once-over and - for safety - deciding to add, “they’re cheap.”

“Forget it.” He tells you sternly, dismissing you with a wave of his hand like you’re cigarette smoke before walking away—opposite direction to the store.

You’re left there standing awkwardly, shifting your weight across your feet. Body moving before you have time to think, you trail after him.

“I can buy them for you, if you want,” ‘cause you’re a pushover and a people pleaser and an idiot all at once.

He scoffs, glances at you over his shoulder. “You think they’re gonna let a little girl like you buy lighters?”

“Well, I…” You can’t tell if he’s angry with you or if his face just naturally looks like that, pulled into a perpetual scowl.

“Just take ‘em,” he shrugs.

“Can’t you take them?” He might look broke, but surely—

“I would, if I was still allowed in the stores.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip, looking down at your shoes. That’s unbelievably hot. Is he a felon or something?

“Yeah. Oh.”

And so maybe you do end up taking a lighter, casually shoving it into your pocket and walking out of the store, egged on by a man you were convinced was the school janitor. You actually still aren’t sure if he is or not.

He leads you to some lightly secluded street. The sun’s setting and you should really get back home.

“Umm, here…” your hands shake when you hand it over, fingers brushing against his callused ones. “Mister—”

“Jimmy.” He grabs the lighter like it was his all along, like you didn’t just feel your heart falling out of your ass when you committed an actual crime for him.

“Jimmy,” you try out his name carefully, syllables rolling off your tongue in a way that tells you you’re meant to be.

“You know, since you were such a good girl for me,” Jimmy pulls out a cigarette from a package you didn’t know he had and holds it out for you to see. “Why don’t we share one of these?”

It takes a minute for you to get back on earth.

“Oh, I don’t… do that,” you scratch the back of your head, knowing all too well that you’d get a third degree ass beating if your mom knew. “Smoke, I mean.”

“Had my first cig at nine, you’ll be fine,” Jimmy says nonchalantly with the cancer-stick hanging from his lips, his gaze pressing you subtly as he glares up at you. “First time for everything.”

He’s too irresistible and you don’t want to seem like a pussy in front of the only cool, older guy to ever pay you attention.

So you give in. Lord help you.

“O—okay, umm,” you awkwardly take a seat on the pavement next to him, too scared to look him in the eye. “I don’t really know how to.”

“You know how to use a lighter, don’t you?” You wonder how many cigarettes he’s smoked to get his voice this rough. If it gets rougher for every cigarette.

“Yes…” Your experience goes as far as having only ever used matches to light candles.

Hands still shaking like crazy, you struggle to light his cigarette. Jimmy scoffs and you shrink.

“There.”

Once you finally muster up the courage to look at him, it’s clear how unimpressed he is.

“Saw what I did there? You gotta inhale like this,” Jimmy takes another drag and you feel a cough building up in your chest just by watching. “Try it,” he blows out, hands over the smoke.

“Okay…” Jimmy helps you hold the cigarette like he’s your father and you’re his baby and the dart is a spoon. Well, you weren’t wrong about the coughing.

“No, no,” for the first time since you met, his upside-down mouth goes upwards and your heart skips a beat. “Gotta do it twice, so you feel it here,” Jimmy presses his palm to your chest, accidentally brushing his fingertips against your breasts in the process.

“Oh.” You almost moan, thankfully covered up by your coughs.

Jimmy helps you till you get it right, till there’s no cigarette left to be smoked. He doesn’t even put it out, just drops it onto the ground.

“Better keep this a secret from mommy, huh?”

Heat of embarrassment spreads across your face like a wildfire of some sort, and you freeze up. It’s like Jimmy can see right through you.

“Yeah…” you reply quietly, playing with your fingers.

But maybe you end up having your first kiss that evening, exchanging cigarette-flavoured spit with a stranger whom you met only a couple of hours ago. Maybe you let his hand trail further up your thigh than what was appropriate.

And maybe you keep coming back for more.

Hanging out with Jimmy becomes a regular part of your schedule. The secrecy of it is even more of a thrill—feels just like those colourful pills he shows you that make you feel as if you’re on another planet.

Mommy dearest doesn’t know a thing, and daddy dearest… Well, Jimmy’s pretty much the closest thing you have to a daddy dearest.

He’s so different and so cool and you feel so ashamed that you let him touch you and kiss you.

Jimmy’s your new world—he shows you these grassy things that you can roll and smoke like cigarettes and make you all dopey. He shows you this trashy, thrashy music that makes your ears hurt, not just ‘cause it’s that loud but ‘cause it’s that bad. He shows you that fingers can go in holes and places you never knew, that mouths can go where nobody is allowed.

He shows you fun. You think you’re in love.

You think you should die.

Jimmy finishes up rolling his joint, exhaling the smoke right in your face once he’s lit it. “You know, you should call me Daddy while we try it.”

It. The new thing. For you, obviously. The fuck, the sex, the cherry-popping. Jimmy can practically smell your virginity on you.

“You can—you can… do that?” You question meekly, gaze zeroing in on his blunt, too scared to look him in the eye. Too scared to say a sentence properly around him, really. “I mean, it’s not wrong? It… feels kind of wrong, it’s what you call your dad.”

“Knew a guy who called his girlfriend mom in bed.” And that guy is Jimmy, a couple of months ago actually. Not his proudest moment. But what’s done is done.

“Eww,” you snort like he’s told a joke.

After a moment of awkward silence and two guitar solos from the background music, Jimmy puts the dart down, letting the fugly thing sit and burn on a makeshift ashtray in the form of a plate. After 30 years of smoking you’d think he’d be better at getting them to look fucking decent at the very least.

“So? You’re gonna let me fuck you?” Jimmy asks into your neck, kissing it lazily so there’s less of a chance of you turning him down.

“I… don’t know, Jimmy.” You say so quietly he has to physically exert himself to hear you. Shouldn’t have. “I mean, we don’t really know each other that well and I—“

Way to ruin the mood.

He pulls away from your neck, groaning out of pure annoyance. “Come on, don’t be such a fucking milksop.”

“…What’s a milksop?” You ask, wide-eyed and newborn.

God, you’re making Jimmy feel old. He has to deliberately simplify words when talking to you, speak in fucking baby phrases ‘cause you’re a baby and the only language you understand is goo-goo goddamn ga-ga.

“Forget it,” he pinches his nose bridge and tries to not combust, “just let me do it. You didn’t come all the way here just so we could sit and listen to Pantera, did you?”

You look at Jimmy like he is speaking an ancient foreign language.

Right. He forgot you’re not only incompetent but uncultured as well.

“You don’t even know how old I am, Jimmy, I could be—“ Off you go again with your incessant babbling. Just when are you going to realize that he doesn’t give a fuck?

“You’re legal, aren’t you?”

“Well yeah,” your head hangs lowly, the skin on your arms suddenly looking a lot more interesting so you start picking on it. “I am but, Jimmy, it’s like you don’t even care.”

Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, in every fucking sentence. You want him so bad—you’re just too pussy to say it out loud, which is literally what he was trying to tell you. He’ll just simply have to show you.

Jimmy is overdue for some good ‘ol cherry-popping after all.

Resuming his biting on your neck, he says things the way they are to hear you gasp. “That’s ‘cause I don’t.”

“That sounds naughty…”

He almost bursts out laughing, keep talking like that and you’ll end up in a porno in no time.

“You’ll let me do it,” Jimmy bares your tits, pulling your dress down, “won’t you, baby?” ‘Cause a pet name or two is all it takes to get you to melt.

You’re pushed down onto the bed before you can even reply. Left in only your underwear before you can even blink.

“Okay, Jimmy…” you say timidly.

“Remember what I told you?” His fingers trail down your tummy till he finds your panties, the print and ribbon something you’re much too old to be wearing.

“Daddy,” your voice gets stuck in your throat when he palms your clothed mound. “Yes, daddy,” you correct shakily.

And Jimmy’s fingers slide underneath the fabric, struggling to fit two in your pussy. You’re squeezing him so tight he thinks they might fall off and get stuck inside you.

He doesn’t let you cum.

That’s an activity that takes place on Jimmy’s dick and nowhere else.

Once your panties are off and you’re naked like the day you were born in front of him—dripping onto the sheets, Jimmy lazily pulls his cock out and you stare like it’s your first time ever seeing one.

“Like what you see?” It’s a rhetorical question, there’s a 95% chance that you’re judging him. Shit looks more like a wild animal than a dick if Jimmy’s being entirely honest.

“Is it going to fit?” You’re blinking up at him with those awfully glossy eyes of yours. “Daddy,” you add a minute too late.

“Don’t know,” Jimmy tells you honestly.

He prods at your entrance, trying to find the right angle that will slide him right in after a nice little struggle. Your expression contorts every way, resembling a crumpled napkin more than your actual face.

“Ouch, Jim—I mean, daddy,” your eyes and mouth are wide open, looking like Jimmy’s impaling you with a knife and not his dick. “It hurts.”

Dramatic much?

“It’s supposed to hurt,” he keeps pushing in, managing to get a quarter of his tip inside. “Nobody ever tell you that?”

“No…” you heave out, gripping onto his arms for dear life as he very choppily forces himself into your hole.

Jimmy coos at you unenthusiastically, “poor little girl.”

(You are, probably never heard of sex till Jimmy mentioned it.)

He doesn’t let you get adjusted—immediately starting to fuck you harder, faster, rougher than one should a virgin. Jimmy’s popping your cherry, alright. Can even spot a thin red layer coating his dick already.

“Ow, ow, ow,” you whimper under your breath with every thrust into your cunt. Kind of hilarious.

“You like it.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“I… like it,” you repeat with the most pained look on your face, tears pricking at your lash lines.

Jimmy makes sure you feel all of his cock, drilling deep enough to feel your fleshy cervix ‘cause he’d like to hear you scream.

“Daddy,” you kick your legs, pussy struggling to keep Jimmy’s dick inside you. “Oh, daddy.” Not quite a scream.

“Yeah,” his eyes are glued to your stretched entrance, growing impossibly harder at the sight of your ruined pussy—ruined innocence. “Gonna make daddy cum already.”

“Not inside…”

Oh and now you’ve suddenly taken sex-ed classes?

Jimmy keeps slamming his hips into yours, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room, he can hear you loud and clear over it. Purposely letting his groans loose so you really get the hint.

“Not inside, Jimmy, pleasepleaseplease not inside!” You claw anywhere and everywhere you can reach, trying to get him off. Didn’t he explicitly tell you to call him daddy?

“Huh?” His hips stutter against yours, movements turning sloppy as his balls tighten—readier than ever. “Can’t hear you, sweetheart.”

Just a moment later, Jimmy cums inside, shoots like a fucking pistol—bullets in the form of sperm straight into your womb.

You start sobbing.

Jimmy’s never been good at comforting so he rubs your clit in consolation.

“Better cum on daddy’s cock soon,” it’s like he’s speaking to a fucking brick wall. A crying, teenage-girl-shaped brick wall. “Getting pretty sensitive over here.”

Can’t exactly tell with your hands over your face but Jimmy thinks you cum, ‘cause you squeal and push his dick out.

Well, could’ve gone worse.

“I don’t wanna get pregnant,” you whisper between sniffles after receiving the thickest creampie Jimmy has ever given anybody. Uh huh.

He pulls out with a sloppy pop! and watches his cum mixed with your blood drip out of your gaping cunt, soaking through he’s sheets that he’s most definitely not going to clean.

Jimmy’s been smoking and drinking since before he fucking grew balls, do you seriously believe that his sperm’s going to knock you up? If Jimmy became a sperm donor, the only thing he’d be giving out is strains of herpes—not babies. To put things into perspective.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He tucks his softening dick back into his pants, “a plan-B should do the trick.”

“Okay…” you’re crawled up like a frightened mouse—a naked frightened mouse, all sorts of questionable fluids leaking out of all your holes. “Okay, Jimmy.”

At least you seem to know what a plan-B is. Jimmy half-expected you to go but Jimmy I didn’t have a plan-B! I didn’t even want to sleep with you in the first place! in that whiny voice you do that makes him want to light himself on fire.

And for safety’s sake—partly out of spite, “I heard they sell some at the store. Could get it for cheap.”

“You’re not gonna buy it for me?” You’re shaking like you have fucking hypothermia.

He shrugs. Only time not being allowed in stores has ever been of a convenience to Jimmy.

Once you’re dressed he ushers you out of his apartment that he hasn’t paid rent for in a couple of months.

“Bye.” Jimmy says slackly, pushing you out of the threshold to his place.

“But—“ you start frantically, confusion written all over your features.

He shuts the door in your face. Locks it, twice.

Through the peephole of his door, Jimmy can see how you’re limping like a lamb born yesterday on the way out. He bets your mommy ain’t gonna be too happy about that.

You’re so sick and tired of Jimmy treating you like shit. How is he allowed to do that and get away with it? Every single time.

He’s a sad sack of pure sleaze and you can’t believe you let him take your virginity all those months ago.

You sneak into his place unnoticed because he’s such a sad sack of pure sleaze that he hasn’t even locked his door. He’s asking for it.

From the hallway you can see that his glass is empty. Jimmy’s rolling one of those grassy things again, watching the TV and listening to his shitty music. You haven’t even seen Jimmy’s face yet but you know that he looks thirty years older every time you do.

Disgusting.

You’ll sleep with him one last time.

You trail into the kitchen with the stealth of an elephant, knocking over a lone empty beer can on the floor in the process, yet Jimmy doesn’t seem to notice.

Rummaging through his cabinets, you’re reminded of this conversation between Jimmy and his really cute friend with a very unusual name that you can’t remember. Jimmy was telling him about the roofies he keeps in the fourth cabinet while his friend just laughed awkwardly.

They should do the trick.

Rohypnol reads the package, half of the pills are missing. Foul. But then again—this is Jimmy you’re talking about.

You put a singular green oval pill in his drink, watching it dissolve and colour the alcohol a shade weirder.

Jimmy groans from the living room and you scramble to hide underneath his table like a scared little kid. Your freak of a not-boyfriend - ‘cause he never did ask you out - actually drinks the shit in one gulp.

After a moment he stumbles into his bedroom and you think he passes out ‘cause you hear obnoxiously loud snores echoing throughout the entire apartment.

Guess this is your time to shine. And… fuck.

Fuck, that word is so unnatural—so vulgar. And Jimmy uses it so casually.

To embarrass him the way he’s embarrassed you countless times, you undress the entirety of Jimmy’s body apart from his feet—never his feet.

You decide that restraining Jimmy might be for the better ‘cause he’s like a wild fucking rabid animal when he’s drunk. Actually, you don’t know if he is drunk but all for safety’s sake, right?

You’re trying to make this as un-personal as it can be but Jesus he is hot. You just have to feel him up one last time. How there’s not one area that’s not covered in at least some hair, cute brown and puffy nipples, and his dick.

The one that sits there sadly and all alone, giving you puppy eyes.

Maybe it’s a miracle that Jimmy is soft so you can play with it for just a little. Maybe it’s a shame that Jimmy’s not awake to grab your hair and force you down all the way till you’re gagging and choking around him.

Once he’s hard you slide off your panties and bare one of your tits ‘cause you’re feeling kind of bad for Jimmy against your will. How he’s the only one naked.

Sliding down on his cock, it feels just like the first time—stings like hell. But this is your revenge after all so you suck it up. Bounce up and down until your slickness can’t keep quiet and is coating his length.

It actually feels good when you’re the one in control for once. When you have time to adjust, to feel it inside you in a way that feels more like sex than getting stabbed repeatedly.

Jimmy’s eyes do that weird back and forth thing that looks a little demonic—his body twitches like you’re an exorcist and not a technical rapist. He’s fighting against literal sedatives, it’s kind of funny.

You keep riding him.

All Jimmy remembers is thinking that he’s gonna get another drink and get back to his nice fucking joint before he very oddly lost consciousness. Shit was a real scare, thought he died and went straight to hell for a second.

No—the real scare is that he’s awoken by a weight in his lap, a death grip around his dick like somebody’s trying to rip it off, and most importantly, you.

You’re the weight in his lap, the death grip around his dick because of course you fucking are.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jimmy asks very rightfully angry. Let a man smoke for fuck’s sake.

Moving your hips back and forth like it’s your first time horseback riding, you counter with a half-aborted, “shut—shut up, Jimmy…”

Yeah, that’s real convincing. You can’t even get the words out without stuttering. Probably the first time you’ve ever told somebody to shut up in your life.

“No.” Jimmy is a man and men do not take orders from women let alone little girls.

You slow your pace and Jimmy is about to push you off when he notices that he fucking can’t because he’s tied up like he’s in a torture chamber.

Creativity must not be your strong suit seeing as you’ve used three of his belts and a pink sparkly jumping rope for his left foot.

“Fuck,” he thrashes in your makeshift bondage fantasy come to life, “get off me, bitch.”

“No.” You tell him and force your polka-dot fucking panties in his mouth.

They taste good so who’s really losing here?

“I’ll kill you,” Jimmy tries to say with your underwear down his throat. It comes out inaudible and muffled and you fucking laugh.

“Mmm, yes, kill me, Jimmy.” You run a cold finger down his chest, put on this sexy voice. “That’s so hot.”

He can’t tell if you’re joking or if you’re just being fucked up like always.

“I’m serious,” it’s like he’s fucking chewing the fabric.

“You’re sexist? That sounds right.”

Jimmy fucking gives up, flopping down all boneless onto the mattress and glaring at the ceiling ‘cause he can’t stand your face. “Oh my God.”

Contrary to what Jimmy’s saying and doing, he actually quite enjoys it. Well, he would have, were you a fraction of a better rider. This is exactly why you don’t let virgins stick around. Either way, he wants you to stop because you’re fucking embarrassing him—he’s stuck underneath you like a damn sissy. And you can’t even get him let alone yourself off. Should just fucking give up and let Jimmy take care of the raping.

He’s been there, done that.

He endures your clear first attempt at roofying for about five minutes until you force yourself to cum. You’re obviously faking it for whatever reason, squeezing out ooh’s and ah-ah-ah’s like a pornstar.

“Fucking ugly slutbag,” Jimmy decides to add as his dick kicks inside you, a couple of more bounces away from filling you up the way he knows you like it.

“Whatever you say, Jimmy.”

And your bitch-ass just gets up and leaves. Jimmy is stuck in your makeshift restraints, panties in his mouth and butt fucking naked. Ruined orgasm at that. Fucking cunt.

He’s going to burn your goddamn house down.

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hellodarling1357 · 15 hours ago

Text

More Than A Moment: Part 1 - Cassian x Reader (AU!)

What? A post? A whole new fic? After months of broken promises (rip me)?

I sporadically got the inspo to write today and this idea just flowed on out and all but wrote itself!

Is this a stand alone? A multi-part (I hope so)?

Who knows!

Either way, I hope you enjoy 🥰

Summary: After a drunken night between friends, just friends, nothing more, Y/N and Cassian’s lives end up changing forever. But maybe not in the way they had originally expected.

Word Count: 1.5k

“Cassian!” You shout through the door, one fist pounding on the wooden frame as the other, hidden away in your coat pocket, held tightly to what had felt like a lifeline since you had raced to the store just over an hour ago.

“Cassian! I swear to god if you don’t open the door right now…” You took a step back as your fist met the air, the words dying in your throat as a girl with sleep mussed hair, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that you knew belonged to Cassian, stared back at you with a look of distaste.

“What?” The girl asked, stifling a yawn as her eyes blatantly looked you up and down, a smirk spreading across her lips as she took in your frazzled appearance. “We’re a little busy here, so…”

You blinked at her before pushing past and making your way inside the small apartment, ignoring the girl’s protest as you beelined for Cassian’s room, stopping momentarily as the door opened before you could reach it.

“Y/N. Hey,” the man in question was straightening out a tight black t-shirt, having clearly put on the closest items of clothing he could reach. “I didn’t expect to see you today, especially not at 8 am on a Sunday morning…”

“We need to talk.”

“Okay, alright. Could this not have waited until a more reasonable time?”

“Cass, please…”

Clearly picking up on the slight plea in your voice, he nodded, a slight furrow to his brow as he studied you a moment longer before turning to the girl who remained bristling by the front door.

“Hey,” he started, beckoning the girl towards him, you cringed as you took a seat on the couch, not wanting to be a part of the scene that was about to unfold. “So last night was fun, yeah? But I think there’s a few things I need to deal with here so we should probably wrap this up for now?”

“Oh? So you want me to leave?” You rolled your eyes as she clung to him, battering her lashes in hopes of changing his mind as he led her back into his room to help her collect her things, not missing the daggers she sent your way when Cassian’s back was turned.

“It’s not that I want you to leave… But I’ll call you. Soon, alright?”

“You better.”

Barely managing to conceal your scoff you busied yourself with your phone as she pulled him down into a lingering kiss.

“Alright, well get home safe and thanks again for last night…” Cassian trailed off and your attention flickered over in disbelief as he clearly tried to scramble for the poor girl’s name.

“Rebecca. My name’s Rebecca.” Her icy tone was a stark contrast as she moved out of his grasp.

“Of course, I know your name. How could I forget? I was just deciding whether I wanted to start calling you babe or baby.”

You didn’t attempt to hide the disgust at your friend as he shot the girl a charming smile that had her swooning as she said her goodbyes - all iciness melting into a flirtatiously shy smile as she stared up at him from under heavy lashes.

“You really can be a pig sometimes, you do realise that?” You said without looking up from your phone once Cassian had shut the door behind the girl.

“What?” He asked, voice laced in indignation as he slumped onto the couch beside you.

“Oh I dunno, do I call you babe or baby? Of course I remember your name, random-girl-I’ll-never-actually-call.” You lowered your voice into a mockery of his own before being met with a pillow to your face as Cassian got up and headed towards the bathroom.

“Hey, I just got rid of a perfectly nice girl for you. No need for the disrespect. What’s so important anyway? You know I love to see you and all that, but usually not at this time.” He leant against the bathroom door, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth as he stared at you waiting for an answer.

Right.

You had almost forgotten that you were here for a reason other than witnessing one of your closest friends be a complete dick to a girl he’d spent the previous night with.

“Oh… Um yeah it’s all good. Get dressed or whatever then we can chat.”

Cassian stared at you for a moment longer before shrugging and returning to the bathroom. You slumped back as soon as you were out of sight, squashing the pillow Cassian had previously whacked you with against your face as your thoughts raced through your head. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

By the time Cassian was ready, you had had enough time to work yourself into a somewhat frantic state as you paced back and forth, trying to figure out how to even bring up the reason why you had almost knocked down his door on a seemingly normal Sunday.

“Jesus, what’s up with you this morning?” Your head whipped around to face Cassian, freezing mid-pace to stare at him like a deer in headlights. When the only reply you could muster was the very unsubtle opening and closing of your mouth, Cassian let out a sigh as he reached for his shoes. “Well, seeing that you appear to have a whole heap of pent up energy, we’re walking to the cafe down the street. Your shout for waking me up and prematurely ending what was sure to be a very satisfying Sunday morning.”

You scrunched your nose but nodded all the same as you silently headed towards the door, missing the concerned look on Cassian’s face as his eyes trailed your retreating figure before he jumped up to follow you out.

——

The ten minute walk was silent except for the slight crunch of autumn leaves under foot as the pair of you narrowly avoided the early risers who were jogging past along the footpath and manoeuvred around the copious stream of families with young children enjoying the crisp morning air; your heart rate soared as you tried to control your breathing

Cassian managed to score a secluded table tucked away by the window, thanking the waiter for the menus and water as you stared past him in a daze, your mind reeled of how to approach telling him what had happened, what had resulted from…

A large hand waving in front of your face had you blinking in surprise.

“Y/N?”

“Yep. Hi.”

Cassian gave you another quizzical look but was halted from saying anything else as the waiter returned, asking about coffee and food orders.

“Just a long black for me, thanks.”

You could hear your heartbeat and wouldn’t be surprised if everyone around you could as well.

“Y/N?” Cassian gave you a soft kick under the table, pulling your attention to the waiter who was looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, um… Just a latte. Thank you,” Shit. Could you even have coffee now? “Wait. I mean, no. Just a tea. Peppermint, please. If you have it. Sorry.” Your voice trailed after the waiter as he nodded and walked off with a shake of his head. So far, this was not going well.

“Alright, what has gotten into you?” The immediate retort of ‘um you?’ was held back by a bite of your tongue. “You better not be here confessing your love for me. I mean we spoke about this, right? It was just a one off, drunken night between two friends who both happen to be very attractive.”

Some of the tension left your shoulders as you offered a small smile in appreciation of Cassian’s attempt to lighten the mood.

“You’re not actually in love with me are you?” You rolled your eyes at the slight panic in his expression, deciding not to take it as an insult. “I mean, I love you, but, you know, as a friend. Because we’re friends. We’re all friends; me, you, Rhys, Az, Feyre, Mor…”

“Cassian,” you let the smile grow a bit as he prattled on. “I’m not in love with you.”

“Oh, thank god. No offence.” He offered you a guilty looking smile which softened as he nodded in encouragement for you to continue.

“But I did want to talk about that night…” You trailed off, trying to gauge Cassian’s response as he quirked his head to the side and furrowed his brows in confusion. Well, here it goes. Taking in a deep breath, you reached into your pocked and placed the pregnancy test on the table.

“Cass, I’m pregnant.”

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I have so many ideas for this and how I want to continue it but would love to hear your thoughts!!

#cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian acotar #rhysand acotar #feyre acotar #azriel acotar #slow burn #friends to lovers #acotar #marley writes

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angstywaifu · 16 hours ago

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If I Catch You - Garrick Tavis

A/N: This was meant to be a Kinktober fic, but better late than never right? We can just pretend it's still october.... Thanks to the anon who sent me some unhinged Garrick thoughts that finally pushed me to write this. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Stalking/Chasing. Pet Names. Praise. Dominant Garrick. Oral M Receiving. Fingering. Slight choking. Masterlist | Links

“Bloody hell Garrick! You scared the crap out of me.” I squeal as he chuckles at my reaction.

”Not my fault you’re so damn jumpy.” He teases as he reaches around me to get a drink, his other hand coming rest on my hip, his fingers grazing the exposed skin where my shirt has ridden up.

I can’t help but shiver at his touch, craving more of it despite how he’d scared me. If anything, I’d like how he’d scared me. And as he turns his attention back to me, I can tell he notices. His eyes focusing on mine while a knowing smirk graces his lips. There had always been this tension between Garrick and I. One neither of us had pushed further than some implied comments and small touches here and there. But at the end of the day we both ended up in someone else’s bed.

“You snuck up on me, hardly my fault.” I tell him as I grab my own drink.

”No, but something tells me you liked it.” He murmurs into my ear, causing me to shiver in response.

Gods he knew how to work me up. It’s like he could read me like a damn open book. But with how my body was reacting to him it really wouldn’t be hard to tell what he was saying was working. And he was good at reading my bodies reactions.

”And what make’s you so sure about that?” I say as I turn and face him, trapping myself between him and the table.

His eyes slowly take me in, taking his time as he looks me up and down. I hate how much it makes me want to squirm. Give into whatever he wants to say. I’d like to blame it on the alcohol that we’re all drinking, but this is all Garrick. Finally he drags his eyes back to mine, looking into me as if to gauge my reaction.

”Your body gives you away little one. Your body shivering at my touch.” He moves his free hand back to my hip, his fingers grazing over the exposed skin again and making me shiver and lean into his touch. Shit. “Your eyes are glossy and blown out, something you only do when something turns you on. And you look like you’re about two seconds away from pulling me up to your room.”

I square my shoulders, doing my best to not show him how right he is. “Maybe there’s someone else I want to drag up to my room Tavis.”

He chuckles and smirks down at me. “I’d believe that but you’ve not talked to a single male tonight besides me, and I know girls aren’t your thing. So what do you say little one. Want to have some fun tonight?”

He’d given me a head start. Something I wasn’t sure I needed, but as I get to the path leading down into the forest I am suddenly very glad for it. I hadn’t been down here since my first year for Threshing. During the day it was beautiful down here. The forest lush and vibrant with colour. But now in the pitch black, it felt like I was being watched. Like danger was waiting behind a tree for me. Not danger. Garrick. He could be anywhere down here once he came after me. And I had stopped trying to keep track of how long it had been. Which meant he was after me.

*”Five minutes. That’s all you get to get as far away from me as you can.” His voice low and husky as he steps into me, raising his hand to cup my cheek.

”And what happens if you get me?” I ask nervously, my body tingling with the anticipation of what's to come.

The smirk he gives me should have me running and getting help, but instead if sets my whole body alight. ”I get to do whatever I want to you.”*

I pump my legs harder at the thought of him coming after me. I wanted him to catch me, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. To catch up to me he would have to run to. Something I would surely hear behind me due to his size. I should be quieter. There was no telling if anything else was out here with us. Dragons generally only came down here during Threshing. That I knew of. But there was no guarantee they avoided this place any other time of the year.

I turn my head to look over my shoulder to see if I can catch any glimpse of Garrick, but I don’t. And the choice costs me as my foot catches on a tree root, pitching me forward and crashing noisily to the ground. My momentum sends me rolling along the forest floor. Sticks and leaves catching in my hair as I roll along the rough ground. I put my hands out, pushing me to my feet as I look around hastily. I can’t see him, meaning I still have a chance. Still have the head start despite my incident. Though with how loud my heart is beating it’s hard to hear if he is gaining on me. Thunder claps over head as rain starts to fall from the sky. Great, now I’d have no chance of hearing him. I take deep, long breaths in an effort to calm my racing heart and chill the fuck out. I strain my ears as I slowly walk forward, trying to hear for any twigs snapping or foot falls. I hear rustling from my right, snapping my head to the right. Lighting streaks across the sky, illuminating the trees. But no one is there. Shit. He had me on edge already.

I set off in my original direction, trying to get as much distance between where I was. I might not have seen Garrick, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t there hiding out of sight. As I jog forward a twig snaps to my left. But yet again when I turn to look there's nothing there. Another snaps to my right. Nothing there. Again. I was starting to think there was something else out here with me. But rustling ahead has my head whipping forwards, just as a large shadowy figure emerges from a tree far ahead of me.

There was no way. He had given me a five minute head start. How the hell had he gotten past me. Surely I would have heard him. He would have had to run past me to get that far ahead of me. I turn and run with everything I have. Pushing myself as fast as I can to get away from him. But somehow despite the distance he steps in front of me, his hands grasping my upper arms tightly a I crash into him. I push on his chest, doing whatever I can to get away from him. But he’s far stronger than me. He’s probably barely breaking a sweat. As if to solidify my thoughts he spins me around, pulling my back to his chest as he wraps an arm around my hips, pinning me to him. His breath fanning over my neck, causing heat to pool between my legs.

”You did good little one. But you can’t get away from me. I will always find you.” He whispers in my ear, nipping lightly at my neck causing my to gasp and arch into him.

Despite knowing I’m caught, and want to be caught I still struggle against him. Doing what I can to get away and start the chase again. But as his hand goes under my shirt, trailing up my stomach and palming my bare breast. I can’t help but moan and relax into his touch as he rolls my hard nipple between his fingers. Fuck. He uses the distraction to spin me around to face him, gripping my thighs as he hooks my legs around his waist before dropping to his knees, causing me to yelp in shock. He grabs my wrists, easily grasping both of them in one of his hands as he pins them above his head while he pins my hips to the ground with his. He adjust his position, his hips rolling into mine and I can’t help the way my body arches off the ground and the moan that escapes my lips.

“Someone’s needy.” He murmurs from above. “And to think, not long ago you were trying to tell me it was someone else getting you all riled up.”

”Maybe I’m imagining you as someone else.” I tease as I roll my hips against his, a sharp hiss coming from him.

He leans down, his nose barely touching mine. “When I’m done with you, you won’t want anyone else but me little one.”

I open my lips to respond, but instead a gasp comes out instead as he takes a dagger and cuts my shirt open right down the middle, exposing me to him and the cool night air. He releases my hands as his roam my now exposed torso, pulling the ruined shirt from my body. His touch is sending me into a frenzy, craving and wanting him more. He leans down and places kisses up my exposed stomach, lightly nipping at the skin as he makes his way up to my neck. I moan as he kisses the sensitive skin there, but a breathy scream leaves my lips as he bites down on my neck. My hand flies up and tangles in his dark curls, keeping him buried in my neck as he moves to the other side.

He moves away, resting back on his knees as his hands move to the ties of my pants. His fingers making fast work of it before moving to my boots. Also making quick work of those before tossing them to the side and removing my pants with ease. I reach out to undo his pants, but he swats my hand away instead. Message loud and clear. He’s in control. He shrugs off his flight jacket, discarding it to wherever the rest of my clothes have gone before rolling up the sleeves of this black shirt.

I can’t help but take him in. Despite the fact he’s fully clothed, I can’t help but admire him. There was something about a guy kneeling between your legs, looking over you with all the control that just did things to me. I’m pulled from my thoughts when Garrick’s fingers slide between my legs, parting me for him as he slide a finger into me. I cry out as I arch my back off the ground, my legs hooking around him again, locking him in place as he adds another finger, and then another. Pumping them in and out with ease as he brings me closer and closer as I start trembling beneath him, starting to come undone on nothing but his fingers. His thumb reaching up and rubbing circles on my clit, biting my lip to muffle to moan. Fuck. I was already a mess and he’d barely touched me. I was doomed once he fucked me properly. Garrick curls his fingers inside me, as if beckoning my body to come undone. And it does. I cry out as my body goes rigid, my eyes slamming shut at the intense feeling, moaning out his name as I come undone on his fingers. He continues his pace, using his fingers to prolong the orgasm he pulls from me. Eventually he pulls his fingers from me, causing me to whimper at the loss.

”On your knees.” He tells me, my eyes opening to see him standing before me.

I nod, shakily pushing onto my knees as I look up at him. Watching as his hands move to undo the pants he’d stopped me from undoing earlier. I nearly choke on my breath as he pulls down his pants, his hard cocking springing free from its confines. Holy shit. I’d heard rumours about Garrick, but seeing it in person was very different. My mouth waters as I take him in. He reaches out, grasping my chin as his thumb brushes over my lips. He pushes on my lips, my mouth opening with ease as he slides his thumb in, my lips clamping around it as I suck on it, rolling my tongue over the tip. He pulls it back, a pop echoing in the now eerily quiet forest.

”You ready little one?” He asks as he grasps his cock in his hand.

”Yes, sir.” I say, now using the fact he out ranks me against him.

I part my lips as he pushes the tip against them, causing me to gag around his size. I feel his body vibrate as he groans as the feeling, forcing his cock deeper. I tentatively bob my head back and forth, getting use to his size, using my hand to take care of the part I can’t find in my mouth. It’s not long before Garrick’s hips take over, thrusting in and out of my mouth, causing me to rest my hands against his thick thighs. I roll my tongue over the tip when he pulls back, a guttural moan coming from him. His hand grips my hair tightly causing me to hiss around his cock as he holds my head in place. It’s the only warning I get before he starts fucking my mouth. The tip of his cock hitting the back of my throat as I moan around him. I hollow my cheeks, causing his hips to stutter as I suck on his cock, rolling my tongue around him when I can.

”Fuck, that’s it little one. Doing so good.” He murmurs above me.

He continues to give me words of encouragement, but I barely register them over the lewd sounds coming from my mouth. I nearly choke around his cock as he crouches down a little bit, the hand not tangled in my hair grasping my neck, making my feel every inch of him down my throat. Something tells me he can feel himself fucking my throat as he moans loudly above me, his pace picking up. Tears sting my eyes as he pushes deeper, my throat constricting around him. Seconds later Garrick’s body goes rigid as his hips stop, his body leaning forward as he leans a hand against the tree behind us, his body twitching as he comes undone.

Garrick steps back, his cocking popping free as I sag back to the ground, scooting back as I close my eyes and lean back against the tree and catch my breath. I shudder as Garrick’s hands grab my leg, but I relax when I feel him sliding my clothes and shoes back on. Well what’s left of them. I no longer had a shirt after he cut it from my body with his dagger. I open my eyes as his fingers caress my cheek, Garrick crouching in front of me as he holds his jacket in his hand. His fingers trail down to my shoulder, tugging on my shoulder as he pulls me away from the tree. He drapes the jacket over my shoulders before placing my arms in the sleeves, securing the jacket around me as best he can to cover me.

”You did so good little one.” He murmurs as he caresses my cheek. “Don’t get lost on your way back.”

I blink and when I open my eyes Garrick is gone, leaving me alone and desperate for more

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the fourth wing #garrick tavis #fourth wing imagine #the empyrean #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing x reader #garrick tavis smut #fourth wing smut #angstywaifu kinktober 2024 #kinktober #angstywaifu kinktober

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haguenauisforlovers · 3 days ago

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♡ TO ALL WEBGOTT WRITERS ♡

First of all, you are loved. Second of all, as announced, this event will in fact be hosting a fic collection on AO3: Haguenau is for Lovers 2025 and it is now OPEN FOR SUBMISSIONS.

FIC SUBMISSION DATES TO REMEMBER Fic collection reveal: Feb 12, 2024 Fic collection close: Feb. 20, 2024

It’s highly encouraged that you post your HifL Webgott fics in the collection so that in 20 years, when we all look back at this year's Valentine’s Week, we can all collectively say, wow, it really was terminal. Please read this event's fic rules, submission guidelines, and FAQs by clicking on ‘Keep Reading’!

How do I post a fic to a collection?

1. Head on over to the collection profile page (just click the link, babes): Haguenau is for Lovers 2025. 2. Click the “Post to Collection” button, as seen in the screencap below. You will be led out to the usual Publishing screen area.

3. Input your fic elements as per usual by adding your fic title, tags, relationships, characters, body of text, etc. Note: You can, in fact, save your work as a draft and the collection will still be saved in your drafted fic settings. If you find any stray typos or sentences that you want to rearrange after publishing the work to the collection, you’re free to edit away as you would a fic that’s published outside a collection. 4. Hit publish, and ta-da, you have imprinted Webgott into your soul and shared your work with like-minded sickos. Congratulations and thank you for your service. *At any point between Feb. 12-20, Webgott fics are welcome to be posted and published into the collection. 5. All fics (regardless of prompts followed) will be revealed and published by the moderators starting Feb. 12, 2025 (Webgott Wednesday). So if you submit early, and you don’t see your work appear on the collection, don’t worry! It will be appear on the date mentioned.

*For early fic submissions:

If you publish or draft your work before Feb. 12, 2025, we encourage you to change the date of your work once the collection is opened to the latest date. That way, your work will be bumped up to the latest works in the fandom/ship tag.

E.g. You drafted/published your work into the collection on Feb. 10, 2025. Follow these steps to edit the date:

1. Go to your fic and click the “Edit” button. 2. Scroll down to the “Associations” area. There you will see a toggle button that says “Set a different publication date” (See screencap below). Click the check box to allow the date change.

3. Change it to the current date. 4. Scroll down and click “Post” to save your changes.

Can I submit more than one fic to the collection?

Yes, you can! Write out your Webgott heart’s desires. There is no limit to the number of fic submissions per person. The more the crazier. ♡

Is there a minimum/maximum word count limit?

There is none. Drabbles, poems, long fic, multi-chap if you have them are all welcome.

Can we include other ships?

This is a Webgott event so they must be The Main Relationship. Joe Liebgott/David Webster, that’s what it’s all about, baby. Ships apart from Webgott are welcome as background/implied.

Can we do AUs?

AUs can be incorporated in, but fics should be set primarily in Haguenau. e.g. Post-war is allowed but they have to be reminiscing about Haguenau. Modern AU but they’re thrown into a time machine and land right smack behind enemy lines. You get what we mean.

Are AI-generated fics allowed?

Aww hell no. All Webgott works found here will be organic and free-range. RPF is honest work for real, beautiful, flesh-and-blood sickos. AI generated fics will be excluded from the collection.

Do you have any prompts?

Yes we do, friend. You can find them here!

Will you reblog my fic post on Tumblr?

Of course! Mention @haguenauisforlovers in your caption and/or tag your post with either #haguenauisforlovers or #webgottvday and we’ll be sure to reblog it on to our page.

Any more questions? Feel free to send over any inquiries you might have. This event’s inbox is open! Soooo excited to read everyone’s fics! Yayyyy. ♡

#hope this helps everyone who's planning on submitting a fic!#REALLY HOPE YOU PUT IT INTO THE COLLECTION FRIENDS!!!!!#next week we're fujoing it out (more than usual)#reblog to signal boost as per usual please and thank you mwah!#if anything's confusing feel free to reach out via inbox! ♡#band of brothers #webgott #haguenauisforlovers #webgottvday

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oacest · 2 days ago

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oacest scholars, do you have any gcest fic recs for a beginner?

we decided to answer this in brief and limit ourselves to three recs each or, as evidenced by past failures to answer this same simple and straightforward request from other people, we'd spend forever quibbling about our choices and never actually post the dang thing. here, in no particular order, are some good jumping off points:

trill's recs:

1) @snickfic's baby, you're gonna be the one that saves me, aka my fave fic (technically series, it's got two parts) in this entire fandom. in which liam gets knocked up in the mid 90s by someone who's not noel, to noel's intense anguished jealous heartbreak mild dismay. even if you're not really into mpreg this one is well worth it. the characterization is god tier. bal and i insisted that jackie, who staunchly doesn't like mpreg, read it and even she was converted.

2) i could be your lover, you could be all mine, by hapaxlegomena. a collection of unconnected porn ficlets. lots of extremely tasty stuff in here, i reread random bits of it regularly.

3) the D'YA WANT SOME? series by one of our own triumvirate, bal! im sure she's squirming in horror that im including it but it is by far the best, most well-written, most well-characterized, thoughtful, hilarious, hot, fascinating work in this whole fandom imo, and is a perfect intro to the whole concept of pre/early days oasis and what noel+liam might have been getting up to behind the scenes (as it were) before they were famous.

bal's recs:

1) Filmstar, an orphaned fic on Ao3. This one gets recced plenty but for good reason. It's very funny in a deadpan way and the Liam in it is such a perfect little weirdo. It's a great fic to start with, readable even if you don't know all the lore and whatnot.

2) outta sight and outta mind by lustmord. this author writes Trauma and specifically the brothers' trauma in a way I find endlessly compelling. (for all that Everyone Knows about their shitbag dad, it is still such an unspoken and often unpredictable presence in the room; you can't really get into them without tangoing with it in some fashion)

3) Let Me Be The One, by @savageandwise. absolutely fantastic Liam voice, this author just GETS him. I often think about this quote as a literal thesis statement for Noel's whole insane deal:

You think he's perfectly willing to allude to it in public if he's the one pulling the strings. Cause he thinks he's cleverer than the rest of the world. He thinks it's edgy and rock and roll when he does it. It's his brand of anarchy. And when you do it you're just stupid and embarrassing and determined to destroy everything.

jackie's recs:

1) Trying To Find A World That's Been and Gone by @storyshark2005. my colleagues graciously let me be the one to put it on my list because this is Thee fic. as we were all getting into Oasis initially, this fic was our constant companion and teacher, holding our hand as the fixation unraveled within us. it's a present-day fic that beautifully and masterfully unpacks the entirety of their relationship from the glory days to the estrangement and it is so jam-packed with research and details, you can just assume that everything that's being referenced is based on something that actually happened. in my opinion, this is where any new fan should start.

2) If I Had a Gun by @savageandwise. it's probably cheating to put another fic by this author when bal's already done it, but... I don't care lmao. in many ways we're splitting hairs because all this author's fics are worth your time. but I do hold a special place for this one because it so wonderfully captures the tenuousness of their dynamic at any given moment. how they could go from fighting to flirting to hating each other to needing each other in rapid succession. it feels so true.

3) Here's Looking At You, Kid by RedheadAmongWolves. don't be thrown off by the fact that this is one chapter away from completion, it's still totally worth it. the characterizations are great, the vibes draw you in, the UST is delicious. honestly, this is really meant to function as an overall author rec. there were several here I could've chosen.

#communiques #fic #fic rec

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pearlofthewoods · 2 days ago

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I think there’s a lot of nuance to the whole discussion of what went down on the short-lived non-US tiktok.

Like yes, some of the takes were a little mean/in bad faith… but this here, this is something we ABSOLUTELY should be talking about.

Because perhaps, (through no fault of the Americans’ own) the discussion of regional UK representation just gets a little buried when the vast majority of tiktok-fandom is made up of Americans.

I’m not one to care about dialect mistakes or Americanisms in fics. At all. I’m just lucky I write for this fandom and I am British, so I largely don’t have to worry about this sort of thing. But I know that others do. And I know I’m privileged in that regard.

Because getting nitpicked for things that you have no cultural context for/way of understanding must be hell. No one deserves to have that done to their fic.

So in no way am I saying Americans or even people in the UK who live outside the Midlands are obliged to write Lily from the Midlands.

Write whatever you’re comfortable with writing. Don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to do.

But that being said, I’m going to make an active effort to look for and uplift fics that centre Lily’s background and identity as a midlands-gal.

Because there’s so little representation for people outside of London/ the South in general in UK media and also unfortunately, in fanfiction. Particularly for the midlands.

I’ve been seeing more fics set in the North or in Wales or Scotland recently and I love it. I really want to see the same for others areas of the UK.

I personally don’t feel qualified right now to write that myself (not being a gal from the midlands), but I really wanna highlight fic writers who do write Midlands!Lily and are from the region themselves.

So if you know of any fics like this, or writers who include the Midlands in their work, drop them in the comments below!! Let’s give all areas of the UK the love they deserve.

Why do I have Americans on TikTok coming for my neck in the MASSES because I said that it's upsetting that I never see Lily Evans represented as a lower-middle class girl crowing up in the industrial midlands as an outsider to the majority of her close-knit VERY ENGLISH MIDLANDS-Y community

'You have representation everywhere' NO I DON'T

I CANNOT NAME A SINGLE OTHER CHARACTER LIKE THAT EVER

Her and Severus are the only characters I've EVER seen from my background, I'm allowed to be a little upset if I've never seen anybody else in the fandom explore or appreciate that. it wasn't even a personal attack on America, it was an observation

#lily evans #marauders #marauders era #midlands #UK #lily evans fanfic

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mixelation · 1 day ago

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✨blood covenant✨ fic preview ->

for those of you that missed it, @tozettastone, @waffliesinyoface and i all agreed to do a blood covenant challenge where we write OC/character fics.

here's the potential first chapter of mine, which is OC/Minato

****

I’m going to fuck up that guy’s whole life, is the only thought in my mind as I leap through the trees.

Every time I come down on a new branch, my right thigh screams in protest. It screams again as I come back up, hurling myself as ungracefully as a new genin to my next landing. WHat’s left of the fabric of my leggings is hot and sticky with blood.

But, dear reader, I have advice for you: if you want to kill a medic, make sure you make a killing blow. Don’t just leave her for dead and assume she’ll crawl off and die like a good girl. I know, if you’re a megalomaniac with an ego the size of Hokage Mountain, this will seem tempting, to leave her to wallow and suffer while you go off to do something more important. Do not do it.

I’m not Shisui, I thought furiously, pausing in my sloppy run as the temple I was aiming for came into sight. I’m not just calling it quits and giving away my eyes. Fuck off, Danzo.

I lean against the trunk of the tree, panting heavily. Through the branches, I can see the curving roof of the temple. There are a lot of old abandoned buildings out here, dotting the forests of Fire Country, and this one doesn’t stand out as special. I only knew where it was because I’d previously found it by happenstance, and I only recognized it as important by chance knowledge. I have never been inside before.

Pausing my run was a mistake. The loss of momentum means that I am abruptly and painfully aware of how shaky and weak my legs feel. I make a clumsy jump for the forest floor and have to turn my landing into an embarrassing roll.

If anyone is following me, they’re far enough behind that I can’t sense them. I can see the spiral emblem on the door of the temple, the carved wood smoothed and faded with time. I limp forward confidently, using my left hand to push more healing chakra into the hole in my leg, which I would generously describe as “gaping,” but is definitely less gaping than when Danzo had stabbed me.

I’ll get both his legs, I think as I push open the temple door. Ugh, it’s going to scar!

The movement of the door tosses an enormous amount of dust into the air, making my eyes water. The air smells stale and musty. The windows are boarded up, and only a few sickly strands of moonlight illuminate the innards of the Uzumaki temple.

I have to stop my healing to activate my sharingan. I can usually do both at once, obviously, but I’d been running on nothing but adrenaline and spite for too long, and my body currently doesn’t contain nearly enough blood as it should. I’m starting to get dizzy.

The sharingan does nothing to enhance color vision, but with it I only need the smallest source of light to make out the contents of the temple clearly. There are some hanging scrolls and abandoned, rotting furniture, which I ignore. My eyes go straight for the rows of masks hanging across the back wall.

I limp into the temple. When forming this half-made plan on the way over, I’d had some trepidation about identifying which mask is the one I want, but looking at them, I know instantly.

It’s not that the mask looks extraordinary or that my sharingan can pick up something special. The mask appears to be nothing but wood: paint peeling just slightly with time, a grinning demon’s face with curling horns, a jeering smile on its lips. Nothing is peculiar about its craftsmanship, and my sharingan can detect no jutsu or chakra on it.

And yet, to look into its eyes, is to see the inevitability of your own death.

A hint of fear tingles up my spine. A bad omen, my superstitious mother would have said. A warning to my most primal senses that this is a power not to be taken lightly.

I step limp forward anyway.

It’s fine. I’ve been staring down the inevitability of my own death for over two decades. The feeling still makes my blood run cold with terror, but it’s a feeling I’m used to. This is my last chance at defying fate.

I pull the mask for the wall and lift it to my face.

If you kill me, I think at the mask, make sure you bring those assholes down with me, will you?

xXx

Dear reader, here is what you need to know about me.

My name is Uchiha Renka. I was raised by a great aunt after both my parents died in the Second Shinobi War. My hobbies include reading, baking, and dabbling in make-up and fashion. After a lot of study and hard work, I have passed most medic-nin competencies and work mainly in the hospital.

I am a painfully normal sort of young woman, as you can see. At least for a ninja. I work my shifts, and I treat myself to a new book once a week. The most scandalous thing I do, aside from occasionally going out on state-mandated missions that sometimes include various types of murder, is that every once in a while I go out drinking with my girlfriends, and even that isn’t too scandalous. The rowdiest I get is wearing unique shades of lipstick. We even have a three drink maximum. I did not do anything to merit the fucking headhunt after me except exist as an Uchiha.

And… well, okay, I’ll admit something, just between us. Another thing you should know about me is that, even if my main goals in life are to not die, to help people at the hospital, and then to go home and read a good book over some hot tea on my balcony, I do have a bit of a fatal flaw. It’s nothing more than a basic Uchiha family trait, really:

I am just a teensy-weensy bit vindictive.

It got me into trouble a few times growing up, but it’s really nothing too bad. It definitely wasn’t enough to make me deserve the absolute clusterfuck you just read about. You make one mistake, and next thing you know, your boss is calling you a vile woman and a disgusting, cowardly failure and trying to kill you.

Well, fuck him, honestly. I’d survived everything up until him, and I’m not going down without a fight.

I wasn’t one hundred percent sure how the shinigami mask worked when I put it on. When I’d decided to try it, I thought I could maybe use the shinigami to chuck Danzo and-slash-or “Madara” into the afterlife for good. My second choice was to bring back Tobirama and have him tell off my enemies and maybe my clan for… whatever the hell they were doing.

Honestly. All I want is to sit in my patio chair with a blanket and read…

I vomit up the Fourth Hokage instead.

I know. It sounds gross. I know. But I’m not making any of this up. I put on the mask, and it’s like the shinigami is inside me, and then inside of the shinigami was this horrible squirming feeling. I want it out. I need it out.

I throw up. It feels awful, worse than any vomiting session I’d had before, my whole body retching. The mask falls off my face.

Then the Fourth Hokage is standing in front of me.

Reader, I assume that you are coming into this story with certain expectations for how pulling a soul out of the shinigami’s stomach should work. Well, toss those expectations. You’re basing them on people who knew what they were doing. I’m just one innocent little Uchiha.

Namikaze Minato appears before me in a white funeral kimono, folded neatly right side over left, a white band with a triangle over his forehead around his head. Clearly instead of a fighting-fit Hokage like I expected, I’ve grabbed him… right out of the grave…?

He turns to me and blinks rapidly, like the sun is in his eyes, despite it being the middle of the night. Reader, this man is handsome. With this wide, dazed expression, he looks like a confused male model, not the most lethal ninja in history.

My throat feels raw. I open my mouth to speak but can’t. His eyes move away from me like he hasn’t quite registered that I'm there.

He pats himself down absent-mindedly, his hands going down his chest and stomach like he’s surprised they’re there. I watch as his brows furrow a little as his hands approach his hips. Then he reaches down to his right thigh, his fingers moving toward the inner part of the front. He presses down.

I scream. It’s like someone has stuck their fingers directly into my thigh wound. Pain completely cuts off all my thoughts and I finally topple over completely.

I’m aware he’s moved over to stand over me, although my vision has gone white with pain. His gait is uneven, something of a limp. I fumble for my wound, pressing numbing chakra into it. Danzo had clearly been aiming for the femoral artery to make me bleed out, and I’d fixed it up enough to not endanger my life, but it still hurt.

There’s no new damage to my wound, even though that definitely felt like that should have ruptured something.

I feel the Fourth Hokage squat next to me, and his hand comes down over mine, pressing gently against my wound. It’s not enough to hurt this time, not with the help of the healing chakra numbing the nerves, but it increases the pressure over it markedly.

“Huh,” he says.

“What the fuck,” I croak out, and dust on the floor gets in my throat and eyes and makes me have to fight back a cough.

He removes his hand. Then, even though he’s clearly not touching me, I feel a pinch on the back of my hand.

“Ow,” I say accusingly, and then give into the coughing fit.

“You can feel that?” he asks, sounding surprised.

He waits patiently while I sit back up, coughing again. He seems completely unrushed and unbothered, watching me with extreme interest. He doesn’t have the slightest idea what’s going on.

I stare back at him. I’m clearly a wreck. There’s dust all in my hair now, flooding my nasal passageways and making me sneeze. Between the sharingan and having to use Mystical Palm again, my head is swimming and my arm is barely strong enough to hold me up.

He holds my gaze despite the active sharingan, studying me like he’s never seen another human face before. Brave man. But maybe being dead for eight years makes one brave.

Or… who am I kidding? He’s the Yellow Flash. He probably thinks he could kill me before I could cast a genjutsu.

(I think he couldn’t. But I’m obviously not going to test this theory unless I have to.)

After a few moments in which I let out several unsexy, wheezing breaths, he turns away from me and picks up the fallen shinigami mask.

“So that’s how you did it,” he says, flipping it around in his hands. “I’m remembering now… I think I was hoping someone would come for this, at first, or another tool to let me pass on properly. But then… I forgot…” He frowns, deeper this time. “I forgot a lot of things. How long has it been?”

“Since you died?” I say. “Eight years.”

“Only eight?” he repeats and absentmindedly scratches the side of his face. I cannot feel this on my own face, I notice. Perhaps we can only share pain. “It felt so much longer, with nothing to see or feel or do…”

His head turns up, and it takes me a few moments of concentration to realize Danzo’s cronies have finally caught up with me. He hadn’t immediately sicced any on me, as he’d confronted me himself and then left me for dead. But likely he’d sent a team to confirm I’d actually died, and I hadn’t exactly covered my trail.

The Hokage doesn’t look worried, just mildly curious.

“They want to kill me,” I say, unsteadily getting my feet under me in preparation to stand. “I… you have to help me. You have to help Konoha.”

He turns his eyes back on me, and they still have that look of mild curiosity, like he’s watching a television show he doesn’t understand the plot to.

“Why do they want to kill you?” he asks.

“It’ll take too long to explain,” I say. “Please.”

I had thought that summoning the dead meant you got to control them. This doesn’t appear to be how it works. Instead of getting up to kill the team of ROOT agents outside, Minato tucks the shinigami mask into his white kimono and then leans over me to set his hand on my shoulder. A second letter, we’re on Hokage Monument, overlooking the village.

“Wow!” Minato says, standing over the village with hands on his hips. “It’s been so long… look at all those lights…”

“Can we please focus?” I ask. I’m still squatted on the ground, and I don’t have the strength to stand casually. I fall back on my butt.

Minato looks pained as he pulls his attention away from the view.

“Right, right, the fate of Konoha or whatever…” he says, sitting cross legged in front of me. He smiles widely. It’s a beautiful, inviting smile. “Now you have time to explain it to me.”

xXx

When I graduated the Academy a little over ten years ago, Konoha was still at the height of war. I’m sure you’ll hear more about that if you stick around.

Back then, I knew of Namikaze Minato because he was one of the Jounin sensei for our cohort. I never spoke to him, but I’d seen him talking with my sensei sometimes. Sometimes I had to talk to Obito about Uchiha related things, and he’d waved at us once or twice from a distance.

My very first real impression of who he was came from an Iwa-nin.

I don’t really like talking about this part of my life, but I want you to trust me, so I’ll be open. When I was thirteen, my team was captured by Iwa. Everyone but me was killed. I was only spared because I had some medical training, and they agreed to let me live in exchange for healing their wounded.

One day I was treating a man with a nasty burns across his entire body, and he suddenly grabbed my wrist, which was all bruised up from being tied when I wasn’t actively healing people.

“You’re one of those Konoha floozies?” he asked. His eyes were unfocused from pain.

I didn’t say anything. Speaking rarely ended well. His grip on me tightened and I winced. I’m always surprised by how strong some people can stay, even when they’ve been beaten half to death.

“Do you know the Yellow Flash?” he asked. “My whole platoon… all of them, gone in an instant…”

He gibbered on and on for several moments, eyes wide. He’d been towards the outskirts of his platoon’s camp when Minato had showed up, which was why he’d had the few precious seconds to realize what was happening.

“We’re supposed to flee on sight,” he said, his whole body shaking. “What they don’t tell you is that once you see him, you’re already dead.”

“You’re alive,” I said diplomatically.

“I used a suicide jutsu, tried to blow myself up,” he said. “I should have died. I would have preferred it, if he’d killed me…”

The man did eventually pass from his wounds. There hadn’t really been much I could have done. Even Tsunade herself probably couldn’t have saved him.

They punished me for it anyway. When I was sitting in the prisoner’s tent, cheek smarting from where the commander had slapped me and stomach growling from reduced rations, I thought about what the man had said.

Once you see him, you’re already dead.

That was the first time I’d really understood the sheer power that a singular ninja could have.

xXx

One reason I think Konoha loved their Fourth Hokage so much, is that he’d go out and kill countless enemies, and then he’d come home and look and behave like the protagonist from a shoujou manga. He was devastatingly lethal, but in everyday interactions, he just had a way of making you feel safe and valued.

Sitting in the cool breeze breeze on Hokage monument with him smiling back at me, it’s not hard to confess to him what had been happening. The planned coup, the proposed counter massacre, the way I’d been caught up in it all. I cry a few times. Beautifully, I might add. I’d practiced in the mirror.

I might be… a little vane. That’s not important right now, though.

Minato nods along with a thoughtful look on his face, more like he’s watching a TV show than listening to a poor woman explain that his village is exploding. It feels off. I hope he’s appreciating my show, at least.

“There’s also…” I turn my face so he can see my flawless profile, staring out over the village. The lights below twinkle in the night like always. There’s really no sign of my entire family— including me— potentially being wiped out tonight.

“There’s also the masked man,” I say.

Minato blinks, his expression suddenly snapping into focus. He frowns at me.

“The masked man?” he asks.

“He claims to be Uchiha Madara,” I say. “He’s obsessed with me. He approached me, saying he’ll help me if I volunteer for the massacre–”

Minato stands, turning towards the village again. In his white kimono fluttering in the breeze, he almost looks like a Hokage again.

“I think…” he starts. “I think I want to kill him. I was angry about him, before. I can’t quite remember…”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, a twinge of hysteria teasing at the edges of my mind. I try to stand, but my head is dizzy and my injured leg gives out.

Minato turns to me, absentmindedly patting at his own leg.

“This is really annoying,” he says. “Why are we connected?”

“I don’t know,” I snap back, the hysteria bleeding into my voice. “Of course you want to kill the masked man.” I want him to kill the masked man! That’s the whole point! “He’s the one who killed you and your wife.”

His eyes widen.

“Ah…” he says. He sticks out his bottom lip. “I really missed Kushina, the first hundred years…”

“You’ve only been dead for eight!” I screech back at him. Honestly, what was the point of summoning the deadliest ninja in history if he’s a basket case?

I get to my feet for real this time, grasping at the loose pieces of his kimono to pull myself up. He makes no move to intervene, but he also doesn’t help me. Instead he pouts down at me, wincing when I put my weight on the injured leg.

“You have to help,” I say. “Or I will throw myself off this cliff, and we’ll both find out how much pain an undead man can feel.”

He catches my elbow as if to stop me, face still all pouty. It’s a cute look, except that I want him to be a cool leader fixing all my problems!

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Look, I’ll help you. I spent hundreds of years with nothing but the dark pit of the Shinigami’s stomach, thinking about how I wanted to kill the masked man.”

I don’t correct him on his time period.

He smiles brightly at me. “And the Uchiha coup is an easy fix!” he says. “I’ll just do what I did last time.”

“Last time…?” I repeat. I had no idea there’d been a “last time.” What on earth…?

“Mm, they tried this when I was Hokage,” he says. “What did I do again… wow, look at this tree…”

Red autumn leaves flutter off a scraggly tree a few meters away. Minato watches them in the breeze intently, like he’s never seen leaves before.

��Hokage-sama,” I half yell, yanking at his kimono sleeve. “You can look at all the trees you want later.”

“Oh,” he turns back to me. “Right. Last time, I just put one of my Hiraishin markers on their heir. Fugaku’s son… what was his name… anyway, I put a marker on him, and said if the Uchiha tried anything, I’d simply kill their precious child.”

He beams at me. I stare back, mouth unfortunately gaping. It has to be a very unsexy look, but I can’t help it. I’d assumed… I’d assumed there had been no problems under the Fourth, that the Uchiha had been fine and at peace under him, and that he’d be able to make them see reason…

“We can just do that,” he says, cutting through my anxiety spiral. His smile gains a reassuring quality. “I already have the marker in place. We can take the child hostage to make them back down, easy-peasy.”

“N-no,” I sputter out. “We can’t do that. Uchiha Itachi… Fugaku-sama’s first son is dead.”

#blood covenant #my writing #renka is a liar

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bootsukki · 15 hours ago

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fic masterlist!

full masterlist!

taglist: @adelinesthoights @bellssforyou @halfp4stmidnight @avis-writeshq @carm1lla @sunghoonsgfreal @reirain @cherrypieyourface@aynfp @keldracula @kurroomii @chilichopsticks @shanchiikiss @starstrikeer @yzaelki @just-lilita @chiiibeaa @baby-bunnyxn @zarisluvr @xxpr3ttyk173rxx@albakugo @swoozleee

warnings: negative thoughts about self-image (i wish i could write more bc i'm excited for y'all to know about everything!!!!!!)

You don’t hear much from Tsukishima during the weekend, but you see him before you go to class on Monday. The conversation is short because he is in a rush about a presentation he has on the other side of campus so you just greet him as he goes.

The crisp November air hits your cheeks as you leave the apartment complex, breath curling into faint white wisps before vanishing into the cool morning. You tighten the scarf around your neck and start walking towards your first class of the day. The cold didn’t bother you at all—you loved that weather. The smell of damp earth and the faintest trace of chimney smoke as you walked next to one of your favourite cafeterias. Other students shuffled by, some hunched against the wind, complaining about the shitty weather or upcoming exams, others talking among themselves about their weekends, soft giggles as they recall something funny that happened on a bar.

“Oi!”

You turned to see Kageyama Tobio approaching you. He was wearing a big sweatshirt and a long coat, holding a volleyball in his hands. His breath was visible in the cold air as he ran to your side and you slowed your pace, knowing that, probably he wasn’t just calling to say hi.

“Going to class?”

”Uh…,” you mutter. “Yes. Do you have class around here?”

”Oh, no. Making my way to the gym.”

”Cool…” Kageyama eyed you up and down. “I should…”

”How did you and Tsukishima even happen?” Kageyama’s voice was laced with skepticism, but there was something else to his tone. “I mean, we didn’t know anything about you a week ago. Not even Yamaguchi knew you were talking.”

You smiled lightly, sensing that he was indeed trying to get something out of you. “It just did and Tsukki is a really private person, I guess.”

Kageyama scoffed, shifting his weight. “How long have you been together?”

“Since September.”

“You like him, huh’”

“I do.” It sounds a bit on the defensive side, so you just send a smile his way and hope he leaves.

“What’s his favourite food?”

You frown. “What’s the point of asking me this?”

Kageyama smirks. “Aren’t girlfriends, specially new girlfriends, supposed to know everything about their boyfriends?”

“You wouldn’t know, right?”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. Tsukishima and I are taking it slow.”

“So, you’re not his girlfriend.”

“I am his girlfriend, but…” Kageyama laughs and you feel your blood boil at the sound. Is he trying to make fun of you?

“Sorry, I find it funny, really.”

“What, exactly?”

“Ever since I’ve known him, he’s been hit on by other women. In high-school, he was quite literally, the first option for a lot of girls but he never paid attention to them. Same at uni: lots of beautiful women approach him and he acts like he doesn’t care about dating. And then, out of nowhere, he’s seeing…you.” You freeze on your spot and grab the handle of your bag. You feel embarrassed, attacked, even though you shouldn’t because you are not even dating Tsukishima, but still, he’s attacking you. “I just thought Tsukishima would, you know… I think that having some fun before settling for the first girl he talks to is a bit… of a waste.”

Kageyama’s tone was blunt, meant to one at your pride.

”He’s a good-looking guy, tall, interesting… I don’t know. You know what I mean, right?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. What is he even trying to say? You know for a fact Tsukishima is all of those things but… is he saying something because you may not be any of that? You start to think about it, about the clothes you are wearing, about your hair, the makeup, all the negative thoughts about yourself you thought were deeply hidden after all the work you had to do on yourself to finally feel like yourself again… Just a few words from a complete stranger and they were back.

You feel like your eyes start to sting but you shake your head slowly, looking at the floor as your hand goes to grab the handle of your bag, trying not to make him aware of the effect his words are having on you.

”I… Of course.” You say. “You shouldn’t worry about him, weren’t you the one who told him to have some fun?” You look up at him, sending a smile his way. “We have a lot of fun together, but, if you’re that worried about him and his love life, maybe you should be the one taking him out on dates, right? You said it yourself: handsome, tall and interesting.”

Kageyama’s face twitched, scowl deepening.

”Anyway,” you waved at him. “I’ll let him know you’re looking out for him. Bye!” You turned, walking in a fast pace to your building.

“A waste.”

“The first girl he talks to.”

”Good-looking guy, tall, interesting… You know what I mean, right?”

He was just trying to get under you skin, you know that, but still, the comment stung. You weren’t like a supermodel and you probably didn’t have the best physique, you know that but… is that weird to see someone like Tsukishima with someone like… you?

You lie to Tsukishima when he texts you in the middle of the morning. He tells you that Tadashi has thought about inviting you and Yachi over for dinner but you lie to him and tell him you’re feeling a bit under the weather.

You say that you’re sorry for missing dinner and hopes that they have fun without you and you feel sick at the thought of doing what you promised you wouldn’t do again: hide in your room.

You lie to Yachi when she comes home from class, saying that Tadashi has told her you are feeling sick and you tell her your stomach is acting up. You lie when you tell her you are not hungry and that you prefer to stay at home.

You lie to her again and send a smile her way before she leaves the apartment (“We’ll be right next door if you need us, are you sure you don’t want to come? Are you crying?”).

The small apartment was quiet except for the occasional clink of chopsticks against ceramic dishes and the low hum of the heater working.

Yamaguchi, Tsukishima and Yachi sat around the low dining table, a simple dinner laid out between them: bowls of rice, miso soup and a plate of grilled alamon with vegetables in the middle.

Yamaguchi reached for the soy sauce, drizzling a bit over his salmon as he spoke.

“Maybe we should save a bit of food for (Y/N) if you want, Yachi.”

Yachi, sitting cross-legged next to him nodded. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Yamaguchi stared at Tsukishima as he picked up a vegetable.

“I saw Kageyama talking to her today.”

Tsukishima frowned, leaving his chopstick on the plate.

“Did you?”

“Yeah. It was close to the journalism building, I was grabbing a coffee from Shirato’s café.”

“Kageyama does not have classes over there.”

“I know, that’s why it was weird! And I don’t know, she seemed kinda off after, I don’t know, really. I don’t know her that well.”

Tsukishima clicked his tongue in annoyance and reached for his phone.

“what did kageyama say to you?”

“how do you know about it?”

“tadashi saw you talking to him. he’s not flirting with you, is he?”

“ew, no”

Tsukishima smiles softly.

“no need to worry, we just talked about how much we hate the other’s choice of drink”

Tsukishima sighs.

“okay, sorry, i didn’t mean to sound so… i don’t know, i didnt mean to overreact but he’s truly an idiot.”

Tsukishima sees the three dots pop in and out of the conversation but he types again.

“i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“ty tsukki.”

“how are u feeling?”

You don’t answer for the rest of the night.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei

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featherlight-touches · 1 day ago

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Hi hello!! I absolutely adore your fics, not only are they so sweet but you're incredible at characterization and dialogue feeling natural which is a big feat imo! If you're still taking requests, maybe lee Sethos and ler Cyno with familial/platonic tickling? I'm not sure how comfortable you are w/ writing Sethos :0 -🍬

AHHHHHH ;;;-;;; thank you so much, that makes me super happy! that's such a sweet compliment you have no idea how much I appreciate such kind words. I am indeed still taking requests! I haven't written for Sethos before, but I gave it a go and this was fun to write! I hope you enjoy! again thank you so much <3

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

“Hey, Cyno?” Sethos' voice disturbed the concentrated silence between him and the General.

“Hm?”

“Maybe we should call it a day?” Sethos sounded somewhat nervous in his suggestion, almost flinching at how harshly Cyno lifted his gaze from his deck of cards to stare daggers at him. “I mean, you have won seven times in a row now.”

“And miss the opportunity for your redemption? Not a chance. I couldn’t possibly take that from you.” Cyno missed the frustrated hand that dragged down Sethos’ face. “This could be the round you beat me, after all.”

“I doubt that.” Sethos muttered, knowing full well he was way out of his league here. Cyno knew that as well, but Sethos doubted he would ever flat out tell him that.

After a few more rounds, Cyno inevitably won another, making it an even eight wins in total.

“Ay, would you like at that?” Sethos forced a smile. “You win again, who would have saw that coming, huh?”

“There is still a chance for you to-”

“No thanks,” Sethos stood, cutting him off as politely as possible, formulating an excuse. “I’m getting hungry, and I can’t play on an empty stomach.”

“I suppose not,” Cyno thankfully agreed, gathering his deck and placing them neatly and delicately back in their casing. “Perhaps when you have eaten, we can have our rematch.”

“Yep, sure thing,” Sethos laughed nervously, already planning the route in his head of where he will be running away from the General to escape another eight gruelling losses of this darn card game.

Sethos gave a huge stretch which was rewarded with a satisfying pop sound from his back due to his long sitting position. He then decided to fix his ponytail, which had gotten a bit messy from frustrated pulls during the card games. There was so much of it, Cyno couldn’t imagine having to maintain that amount of hair day after day.

It was only when Sethos lifted his hair to wrap it back up in the new and tidier ponytail that Cyno noticed a strand of hair had been left out and went unnoticed as it pressed against the back window of his outfit.

Thinking nothing of it, the General approached and reached out to grab the offending stray hair strands. “You missed a bit-”

“EEK!”

Both stood in a prolonged and awkward silence at the strange squeak noise that Sethos made. The sound of birds chirping as they flew by outside being the only noise to break the silence until Sethos finally cleared his throat.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

There was more awkward silence.

“Are you ticklish?” Cyno finally asked, breaking the painful silence. Sethos nearly choked on air before turning to face him.

“Huh?”

“I assume that’s why you made that sound, right? Because you’re ticklish.”

“Nah, you just startled me, that’s all,” Sethos laughed, trying to play it off cool and collected as he returned to fixing his hair.

“Interesting.”

Sethos didn’t like the way Cyno said that word and turned his back towards him once again, hoping to avoid any eye contact that would give away information he didn’t want to be exposed. However, as his arms were up trying to fix his hair again, another squeak was forced from him when he felt a tiny scribble of fingers at his back window again.

“H-Hey!?” Sethos startled, deserting his attempts of fixing his ponytail in favor of covering his back window. “Can I help you!?”

“Did I startle you again?” Cyno asked and Sethos could almost hear a smug tone in that monotone voice of his. “If so, you are very easily startled.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sethos brushed off with a frustrated pout, taking a step back from the General and attempting to fix his ponytail without turning his back to him this time. Surely, he wouldn’t try anything now, right?

Wrong.

Cyno’s nimble fingers darted to his exposed sides the second he lifted his arms up again. Sethos was startled into a small laugh and his body violently squirmed away from the tickling fingers. “C-Cut it out!”

“Are you sure you’re not ticklish?” there was that smug tone again, Sethos was certain of it.

His eyes narrowed at the General, taking another step back but annoyingly Cyno just followed with each step which Sethos found himself letting loose some nervous giggles at.

“Goho away,” Sethos tried to turn and escape but Cyno’s arm grabbed Sethos around his waist while his other hand started to squeeze up and down his side. “AAAH! Nohoho! Hahaha!”

“I think you’ve been lying to me, Sethos,” Cyno stated over the loud laughter emitting from other male, letting his fingers continue their assault over torso, going up his sides to his ribs and then back round to his stomach, each spot rewarded with different pitches of laughter and squirms. “You should know better than to lie to the Matra.”

“I’M SOHOHOHORRY!” Sethos howled, his legs trying to move his body forward to escape the firm grasp around his waist, but Cyno’s strength was unsurprisingly strong. He wasn’t going anywhere. “Stahahap it!”

“I’ll consider letting you off with this small warning if you play another round of Genius Invokation TCG-”

“NOHO PLEHEASE!” Sethos desperately begged, leaning his head back against Cyno’s shoulder as he continued to laugh helplessly. “Anything but thahat!”

“Then you leave me no choice but to-”

“Cyno?”

Everything came to a sudden halt, allowing poor Sethos to breathe. He was saved.

“Tighnari,” Cyno looked confused the forest ranger’s sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was going to see if you were still here when I heard someone being tortured so naturally, I came to investigate,” Tighnari took a quick glance of the scene in front of him, with Cyno still grabbing onto a very exhausted looking Sethos. Tighnari huffed a small laugh. “Are you doing alright, Sethos?”

“Sahave me,” Sethos whined, still limp within Cyno’s hold which eventually the General released.

“Now that you’ve learned your lesson, Sethos, how about that game?” Cyno asked before Tighnari placed a hand upon his shoulder.

“I think you’ve had enough games for one day, Cyno. Sethos too by the looks of it.” Tighnari gave a sympathetic look towards the tired male. “You can bully him another day.”

“What!?” Sethos gaped, surely, they’re joking right?

“Fine then. Until we meet again, Sethos.” Cyno nodded before he and Tighnari left the room without another word.

Sethos groaned, already planning out how he was going to hide away for the next month or two. Maybe Hat Guy could help him out?

#genshin impact tickling #genshin tickles #ler!cyno #lee!sethos #cyno #sethos #tighnari #thank you for the request

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therubyjailcell · 2 days ago

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i have the pleasure of announcing that i participated in a big bang event for the past… oh god has it been since may 2024? yes it has, wow… ANYWAY, here is a sneak peek at the artwork i made for the absolutely fantastic fic written by @blankerthought — re: write

we are talking here about a sci-fi AU, with aliens and spaceships and an omninet that connects to the brain and it is absolutely fantastically well written, i literally cannot wait for y’all to be able to read it. it’s coming out starting thursday february 20th, aka in just a little under 2 weeks away from now, and you absolutely need to read it

additionally, you should also definitely check out everyone else’s works — posting dates start on friday 14th, check out @svsssbigbang for any additional links and infos <3

#v can draw #my art #svsss #svsssbigbang #bingqiu #mxtx #art tag #luo binghe #scum villain self saving system #scumbag system

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elixirfromthestars · 1 day ago

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Hello my lovelies!! 🩷 I've been meaning to host a sleepover since many milestones ago, but as I hit 800 followers recently, what's a more perfect time than now? ♡♡♡

This is my first time ever hosting a sleepover, and I am super excited! I will be accepting sleepover asks from now until the end of the day of the 16th of February. I’ll start answering asks starting the morning of the 14th — Valentine’s Day 💘✨ and spend all weekend answering asks and hanging out with everyone in my little sweetheart soirée sleepover. ♡♡♡

beautiful divider by @cafekitsune

⋆｡‧˚ʚ For Everyone ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Wine & Dine ⟢ Send me a 🍷 to chit chat and ask me anything you'd like to know regarding my writing, any of my existing fics, and/or any of my wips.

Gossip Circle ⟢ Send me a 💋 along with any headcannons you’d like to ask me to elaborate on! It can be for any of my existing fics, my AU’s, or general headcannons about characters I write for.

The Sweetheart's Book Club ⟢ Send me a 💘 along with one of your fics or someone else's fic you'd like to share with me and others!! Tell us all about it, what you thought about it, what you loved most, anything and everything you'd like to share so we can add these fics to our reading lists! ♡♡♡

Game of Hearts ⟢ Send me a 🎀 along with one of the following games: This or That || Never Have I Ever || FMK || Would You Rather?

Movie Night ⟢ What is a sleepover without a movie marathon? That is why I am hosting a cinema-themed writing challenge that you can find here: 🍫🌹💌💋❤️🧸

Dance the Night Away ⟢ Send me a 🎧 along with a song you'd like to add to our sweetheart soirée playlist! This is a sleepover with all my lovelies, so what songs should we add to our rotation? (If you'd like an idea on the vibe, think of what song you would play at like a Galentine's party.) I will compile them into a playlist that you can find here: 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋♬⋆.˚𝄢ᡣ𐭩

Date Night ⟢ Send me a 🏹 and I will set you up on a date with a character of your choosing! I want to practice making moodboards, so here's how this little matchmaking game will go: Think of what character you'd like to be paired up with. Next, spin this wheel to determine the kind of date you'll be going on. In the ask, let me know what character you have chosen, and what date the wheel has chosen for you and I will make you a moodboard with a little description on how the date went! If you'd like to keep the date a surprise, you can always let me know to spin the wheel for you! ♡♡♡

Full details for headcannons + moodboards can be found below!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ For My Mutuals Only ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Be My Valentine ⟢ If you send me a 💌, that means that on Valentine's Day, you will receive a cheesy/cute Valentine's card from me in your inbox along with a handwritten note. ♡♡♡

Matchmaker ⟢ Send me a 🌹 and I will cast you in one of my existing fics or one of my wips! Let me know what character or characters you’d want to be paired up with, and then I will cast you in one of my daydreams ♡♡♡

Some Guidelines:

There is no limit to how many asks you can send. It’s a sleepover, so please have fun and send as many asks as you'd like!! ♡♡♡

Characters I write for: bucky barnes, steve rogers, matt murdock, peter parker, logan howlett, jake seresin, & tyler owens.

For headcannons, please stick to the characters I write for! Headcannon asks can be 18+, but I do not write dark stuff, so keep that in mind when sending asks!

For moodboards, you can ask for any marvel character, any fictional sebastian stan or chris evans character, any Top Gun Maverick character, and any character from Twisters 2024. You can also add in more details for some of them if you'd like. For example, one of the dates is a sports game date. If you have a sport in mind you can let me know, if not I will pick it! Other dates also have little details you can add in, so you are free to let me know! 🫶🏼

tagging some lovely mutuals in case they want to come to my sleepover: @elvenrin @flowersforbucky @buck-star @marvelstoriesepic @humanwip @thevillainswhore @whatever-lmaoo @nickfowlerrr @neverthatsirius-jo @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @mercurial-chuckles @navybrat817 @stellar-solar-flare @lomlbuckybarnes @perdidosbucky-yyo @barnesafterglow @thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @vintagebuckybarnes @mostly-marvel-musings @fvckingavengers @writing-for-marvel @nekoannie-chan @nameless-ken @malum-forev @missraion @sweetiebarnes @nicoline1998enilocin @drabblesandsnippets @amathslutsguidetofandom @multiversefanfics

#sweetheartsoiréesleepover #sleepover event #sleepover celebration

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pshbites · 1 day ago

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﹒⌗﹒❕﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧ 1k followers

hai pshbites nation!! i can’t believe i hit 1k followers.. i really didn’t think i would stay on blr this long but im so glad i have :) ! first thank you to my followers and readers, without your constant support and feedback i don’t think i would’ve been that motivated to post my works. im so glad that you guys like my works and interact with me <3 through every reblog, like, and comment my motivation to post only grows and im so glad to have that support. literally would not be here without u pshbites nation 🥹🥹, so thank u for all the love and support!!!

it’s about to get a lil bit sappy so…

to nunubear : i think we sorta grew closer after #that friend group but im glad we did bc we discovered we both write LOL… and started bonding through that. i feel like we’ve been through a lot together and icb #NunuNana is entering 3 years 🥹🥹🥹.. wow like this is oomflationship realness. but thank u for listening to me rant about blr or even just being there to talk to me 🫶 love u bad habibti @haedgaf @lqfiles

to classic man : you two are my best friends in the whole wide world. i think we’ve grown so close to the point where our families even know each other and that to me is real bonding.. trust.. REAL FRIENDSHIP 😭💔. i love u guys down but u know that because every ft call we end with love you and goodnight. i also wanna thank u guys for supporting me because if both of u hadn’t said i should continue with this i think i would’ve deactivated a long time ago. you already know i trust your judgment more than anyone else’s so i wanna say thank u for everything @wavetokgv @ronniee-26 also i can’t wait to celebrate tonight BYOF (bring ur own fic) it’s celebration time 😭😭 and pls don’t go on their accs they’re bots….

to neoz : sav, liz both of you have become people in my life i talk to everyday and thats a new feat for me. liz, i dont know anything other than saying thank you 😕. you listen to me rant about everything under the sun and im so glad to have found someone who understands me so deeply, i hold so much love for u like an older sister would and im glad we have that connection. @cupidhoons sav, i know we’ve only started getting closer these past couple weeks but i feel so happy when i get to talk to u, you make my day with whatever you say and i also hold love for u just as an older sister would 🩷. i love when you tell me about your day to day life and i just love talking to you in general so thank you 🫂 @ourhees i wanna thank both of you for always supporting me and beta reading some of my fics, i love both of u so so much and i can’t wait for us to spend so much more time together!

to my close moots : if i were to personalize this i think i would be saying the same thing over and over so, thank you all for supporting me and talking to me. in my conversations i have with each of you i genuinely enjoy talking to you all and im glad that ive had the chance to meet you guys 🥹, truly thank u and i love u guys @leeechin @kiss4noo @suneng @coqhee @geutori @kairoot

and once again thank you pshbites nation we #Love you and without your support i think i would’ve given up so thank for reading my mediocre writing and tuning into my works WE LOVE U PSHBITES NATION!!!!!! 💔😭😭😭😭😭

#milestones . . ✩#to : pshbites nation

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not-poignant · 3 days ago

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Hi, Pia! A year ago I discovered you through the Mysterious Skin fanfic, which truthfully has helped me in so many emotional layers till this day (and always will). After that read, I jumped on your profile and was blown away by the world you have created with your own hands. You really inspired me to publish my first fic in AO3 recently (for a random fandom), but sadly I've been having a hard time with it.

At the beginning I was relieved that fear didn't stop me anymore, but then it happened again, it came back, in another form, hitting me harder. I don't know how to explain myself, it's just that I think I'm not good enough, that there are better stories with better characterisations and when I read one of those I think: "This is perfect, I could never achieve this level, I don't have this voice, I should just delete mine, I don't have nothing to say, I can't make people feel this way" and I hate to have those feelings because I think it breaks down the true meaning of writing in general (to help people, to connect, to make a tribute, to have an emotional journey), but at this point I have lost my mind. My dream was always to be a writer, but I left it behind for so many reasons, now I thought things were changing inside me, but I guess it's not the case, I can't even deal with a fanfic...

I just wonder if you have ever feel this way before. How did you start writing? How has it been for you? How do you deal with these things? Feel free to answer me only if you're comfortable with that, I don't wanna put pressure on you as if you were my spiritual guide, but, for all the thoughts and things you share here, I think you are a wise person.

Sorry for the long text, I don't have people in real life to talk to about these issues. I'm really grateful to you already because of your story, it's always in my heart, it's part of me. Btw, I hope you are doing well, keep the amazing work. ❤️

PS: Sorry for the mistakes, not a native English speaker here.

Hi anon,

Congrats on posting your first fic! That's really huge. Even if it does open us up to The Insecurities, it's still a massive thing to do in the first place and I'm so happy for you.

As to everything else, oomf, let's get into it.

So the first thing is there is no writer out there who doesn't get assailed - literally assailed - by insecurities and massive feelings of self-doubt or even self-hatred over their writing (if there is, I haven't met them).

There's no point in writing at which they stop, and if you overcome some, new ones come in their place. I think that's just the nature of the beast - both wanting to (ideally) please at least some of our readers, and also offer something decent to read.

It can help to realise this is a normal part of writing and the experience. Obviously at its most severe, it might require therapy support, or professional support of some kind, but getting assailed by The Insecurities is part of being a creative person.

I don't know how to explain myself, it's just that I think I'm not good enough, that there are better stories with better characterisations

So yeah, this is true. Hear me out! This is true for me too. This is true for every writer that exists. Even the ones who win Pulitzers. This is going to sound blunt, but this is true for every story in the world. I know when I post my works that there are better stories with better characterisations out there. And there are stories that I consider perfect to me. But this last part is really important! I don't get to determine what's perfect for everyone. I'm not allowed to make that choice for them. And also people don't read in order to find The Most Perfect Story Ever, they read for many many many reasons, and that one often isn't even on the list! That's just on our list, when we feel beset by The Insecurities.

Like, yes, better stories exist. That's very subjective. They're better to you, they might not be better to some of the readers who read your work, and unless your only goal in writing is to be 'the best ever' (this is not a great goal imho because it's unattainable) sometimes a simple 'oh...yeah I mean it's true there are better stories according to me, but that doesn't mean that people won't enjoy mine, or that people won't think my stories aren't the best, and I'm not even writing to be the best in the world, so I don't know why I'm listening to this because it's not even what my values are in writing.'

But I also need to make it clear that your insecurities will never leave you 100%. They find new ways to come back, and they do keep coming back. We get periods free of the worst of it, often have low-key doubts in the background fairly frequently, and sometimes feel really good about writing. That's...writing. You haven't done anything wrong in your writing or in yourself when you have new insecurities coming in, and you've acknowledged yourself that things have already changed, because these are new or different insecurities. Think of it like an upward spiral, you circle back to feeling insecure, you have to if you want to keep going up.

You won't stay there forever, but the circling is part of the process. It can help to remind yourself of some cognitively true facts - what you think is perfect in writing is someone else's 'worst story ever' if they read it. What you love to read is not necessarily what you end up writing, and that doesn't mean it can't be someone's favourite story. And yeah, someone has already done something better by our standards, because I don't think there's any point on this journey where we go 'that's it, I've done it, I've become the best writer ever, insecurities begone!!!' (It would be nice, but it's not how it works).

So when insecurities come back it's not 'oh god I've failed at writing and/or keeping the insecurities away' it's - this is normal. You can go 'oh I'm being a regular writer right now, in the hard part of it.' I know this. It sucks. It probably means I need a break when it gets really bad, and I need to recharge a bit. I can keep improving, and my writing doesn't have to be anything other than entertaining. I've pretty much struck perfect from my vocabulary. It's too subjective.

I just wonder if you have ever feel this way before.

Anon, about twice a year I feel so bad about my writing I become convinced that the only answer is to delete all of it off my AO3 accounts. And on a regular basis I go between what I consider fairly normal insecurities (is that closing okay / is this arc good / will people like this character / have I pushed this too far / oh god my engagement is down am I terrible at writing), to pretty intense ones (idk why I do this nothing I write is good / how have I convinced these amazing people that this is worth their time / I wish I could write like (insert X author here) instead of this absolute mid shit etc.)

It helps me a lot to know that some of it is mental illness, but most of it is actually just normal. I'm a writer who wants my readers to have a good time and who wants to write something I can be proud of, and sometimes my brain won't let me feel proud of anything I've done because I made it, and sometimes I don't like myself very much. It means I should work on liking myself more. It doesn't mean I should stop writing.

I started writing as a kid, to cope with fairly awful life circumstances at home. So I was lucky that insecurities didn't matter because no one was seeing my writing except for me, I already hated myself (because people who were supposed to care for me, hated me - there's a reason I write the stories I do!) and I was literally trying to survive something that some people don't survive.

When I started sharing my writing, The Insecurities came. And...idk, I learned how to recognise it as a normal part of the process. It took a long, long time. It's normal to feel like there's something unique about how much we suffer over not liking our writing or feeling like it's bad, that the insecurities say something really true about our writing or even our integrity as a person.

Most of the time they say nothing at all except about the state of our mental health and how tired we are. For example, it's more normal for artists and writers to hate what they create during times of government unrest, or increased oppression, or in abusive households, because it's a way to redirect a lot of very unpleasant feelings to something we think we can control.

Sometimes it just happens because we're tired and the wave crashes over the dam we have in place that says 'go away insecurities.' Like you'd be amazed how much food, staying hydrated, getting good sleep / having good sleep hygiene can actually keep the worst of The Insecurities at bay.

Sometimes we need a break! Too much of a good thing in writing can lead to our brain trying to tell us we're terrible at it so we'll just walk away and watch some movies for a bit! The best way to prevent that is to take a break before we get there.

The good news is, you're a writer feeling something very normal for us writers. The bad news is that it feels bad. It can help to step back a bit, and also to join some writer's groups online maybe, ones that focus on support and lifting people up.

I wish I could say you one day hit a point where the insecurities never come back, but if anything, I don't think you can do these sorts of crafts without them. At their extremes they're not good for us, but the extremes of anything aren't good for us. You're not alone, I promise. The worst you've felt about your writing, is the worst many people have felt about their writing. It's just...often such a lonely process and many writers don't talk about it, but it's there, and it won't last. It's part of the spiral. Over time, you might find it easier when you know it's normal, and temporary, but frankly, there are times it's just really, really hard.

You will move past this, and then one day you'll touch on this again, and then you'll move past it again. Sometimes we spend longer in it than we wanted to, sometimes we need to take a longer break than we meant to, sometimes we write more than was good for us with how tired we were at the time.

It's not perfect, it's not supposed to be perfect, but it is part of the journey, it just means you're a writer like the rest of us writers, anon. I hope you can find your way back into writing more soon! And I hope you can be compassionate towards yourself. You put yourself out there, and have been writing, and honestly that's fucking amazing. I think you're awesome.

#asks and answers #pia on writing #pia on fanfiction #the whole insecurities thing is rough #but it is incredibly just dslkfjsad something we all go through #your favourite authors have sat there staring at their writing like #'should i just quit why would anyone ever read this'#they have stared at other authors they admire #and felt two feet tall in comparison #they have wanted to entertain the people who read their writing #and they have worried about how best to do that #and they have thought about quitting #and they have hurt themselves with their insecurities #while learning how to cope with them #being a creator in any of the arts is that combo of having to be self-critical to improve #and that often overspilling into self-condemnation and self-hatred and profound insecurity #time and practice can help #but ultimately the journey is a spiral #which means we always come back to the insecurities #and we always go forward to more good times #but you can take a break from the spiral too #writing is hard

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