#i wanted to post something at last though

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

standing in the light of your halo, i got my angel now

summary: dating after harry surprising you at your show gave you the final push you needed, you two go public and quickly find out you weren’t as subtle as you thought. later, a wild lando appears.

vicious speaks: we’re finally here!! this is nothing but pure fluff for these babies 💗

series masterlist

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yourusername has added to their stories

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oscarpiastri y’all are so cute it makes me sick

⤷ yourusername you love us

oscarpiastri unfortunately 😕

fan1 day 56893 of asking ya’ll to post a selfie together

fan2 flower boyyy 💐

yourbff we love to see you being treated the way you deserve!!

ynharrysthird MY LOVES

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harrystyles has added to their stories

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fan1 ohhh to be on a beach paint date with yn

fan2 don’t be shy, post a pic of you kissing

alexandrasaintmleux 💓🥹💓

fan3 you being active and posting personal pics is still something i’m not used to 😵‍💫

fan4 you in your bf era is such a serve

ynharrysthird i’m being soooo normal about this i promise (lie)

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yourusername first vday with u 🌷

tagged harrystyles

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harrystyles first of many 💗

⤷ yourusername 💕

⤷ fan1 I CAN’T HANDLE ALL THIS CUTENESS

fan2 *pretends to be shocked*

⤷ fan3 we definitely had no idea you guys were together

⤷ fan4 yeah this is such a surprise

⤷ harrystyles alright 😂

⤷ lilymhe clocked 😭

yourbff 💞💞💞 ♥︎ by author

mclaren our favorite couple 🥰

⤷ yourusername our favorite admin 💘

⤷ fan5 admin making it known yn’s still a mclaren girlie

⤷ mclaren always!

⤷ yourusername it’s a for life thing!!

⤷ fan6 stop, yn saying being a mclaren girlie is a for life thing is gonna make me cry 🥹

annetwist so cute! 💓

⤷ yourusername 🥰

⤷ ynharrysthird gem being in the likes and anne being in the comments is so personal to me 🥹

fan7 ADOPT ME

carlossainz55 he’s making everyone else look like bad boyfriends

⤷ carlossainz55 not me, though

⤷ yourbff lmao nice save

⤷ carlossainz55 love you, querida

ynharrysthird HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY 💕

⤷ yourusername HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY 🫶🏼

⤷ ynharrysthird OHMYGOD

⤷ fan8 how ya doing, buddy?

⤷ ynharrysthird NOT WELL

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oscarpiastri has added to their stories

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fan1 thank u oscar for providing us with adorable ynharry content

yourusername omg i completely forgot you were here!!

⤷ oscarpiastri i could tell

⤷ yourusername 😭

f1 understandable, they’re really cute

fan2 going from you saying lando didn’t deserve yn last year, to you posting a pic of her and harry being all lovey dovey, oh we have never been more up!!

fan3 does this post you mean you officially give them your blessing?

fan4 this ain’t it

carlossainz55 you will be missed, amigo 😔💔

fan5 aren’t you supposed to be landos bsf 🤨

ynharrysthird when i’m in a biggest ynharry supporter competition and oscar piastri is my opponent

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landoupdates lando liked this tweet.

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fan1 dkfjgjd even you sound done with his shit 😭

⤷ landoupdates he doesn’t move for so long and once he does, it’s just to stir up old drama 😵‍💫 imagine how tired i am.

fan2 he needs to get over it, it’s been a year and HE’S THE ONE WHO CHEATED.

fan3 going this hard for lando is crazy, he isn’t gonna fuck you!

fan4 “that girl and her boyfriend” is crazy when it’s literally yn and harry styles

fan5 lando LOSER 🫵😂

fan6 the ratio has me crying

⤷ fan7 quotes are beating their ass 😭

fan8 he’s so desperate for attention, it’s sad

fan9 nah they’re right, oscar was a snake for that

fan10 lando you fumbled, move on bro

fan11 his audacity is astounding

francisca.cgomes she did NOT try to ruin landos life wtf HE tried to ruin his OWN life when he thought he could cheat without getting caught instead of making up his damn mind about who he wanted to be with

liked by lilymhe, yourbff, itsaria, alexandrasaintmleux, gemmastyles

fan13 all the wags, aria, and gemma coming to yns defense oh lando it’s so over for you

fan14 yeah lando’s definitely the problem

ynharrysthird mf GET A LIFE and leave these people alone lando

fan13 lando is currently in the “find out” phase of “fuck around and find out”

oscarpiastri if he were a real man he’d contact me instead of being a little bitch and liking tweets

⤷ fan14 WHOA

⤷ fan15 THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGGG

⤷ fan16 🕯️manifesting there’ll be cameras around if they throw hands 🕯️

⤷ fan17 i’ve got $100 on oscar winning

⤷ ynharrysthird i’ve got $200

⤷ carlossainz i’ve got $1000

⤷ fan18 your ass is always at the scene of the crime 😭

⤷ fan19 he’s just here to look pretty and be messy

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harrystyles yourusername met our third today

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fan1 the caption fkgjfjdjdhs

ynharrysthird it was so lovely to meet you 💕 thank you again for taking time out of your day to have a conversation with me 🥰 ♥︎ by author

fan2 OMGGGG

yourusername WITHOUT ME?!?! just fell to my knees in a walmart

⤷ ynharrysthird omg 😭

⤷ yourusername i’ll meet you next time dw <3

⤷ fan3 WHEN IS IT MY TURN

yourbff omg the legend, the icon, the moment™️

⤷ ynharrysthird QUEEN

fan4 she’s been ur #1 supporter since day 1, this was def deserved

maxverstappen1 insane caption

fan5 lmao he’s so unbothered

⤷ fan6 he said “lando who?” 😭

fan7 ynharrysthird how does it feel to live my dream?

⤷ ynharrysthird pretty good, i’m not gonna lie

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yourbff lately 🤍

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carlossainz55 😘

⤷ yourbff 💋

fan1 just casually reminding us she’s dating one of ferrari’s hottest racers

yourusername missing you already 🥺

⤷ yourbff same ❤️‍🩹

fan2 not to be that person but the only other pic that’s in black & white is the one of yn…perhaps hinting at a paddock return?

⤷ fan3 omg DO NOT get my hopes up

⤷ fan4 God i hope so, i miss her race day looks

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taglist: @pansexualdarling @mx13sworld @willowpains @nebarious @daemyratwst @hi26loveie @angelluv16 @ggaslyp1 @kikiki81 @eugene-emt-roe @nichmeddar @callsignwidow @harryssunflower17 @lomlolivia @isinpfortvdmen @yourlocalstilinski-valdez @hshp98 @l0nelyhe4rts-club @roc-haze @this-is-tiny-mia @harryzcherry @theekyliepage @maudie-duan

[satinprose]

letting pervy!loser!ellie touch you for the first time… inspired by this post. mdni. cw  ;  inexperienced!ellie,  loser!ellie,  perv!ellie  adjacent.  tit  play.  thigh  riding. for some reason, this is longer than i intended.

subtlety was never ellie's best natural ability. no, really, it's not. walking into poles on the footpath, laughing too loud when she shouldn't—especially if it was something you said—and well, it's mainly you that voids her of subtlety. ellie isn't the wisest, and when she's crushing hard, her brain dissolves into fucking mush.

ellie's never felt so... nasty. when it comes to you, she has the most utterly insane thoughts imaginable. she's even thought about trying to steal a pair of panties out of your laundry hamper, but knew she couldn't pull it off clean enough.

when she sees something she likes, ellie can't help it. can you blame her? you had to know what you were doing to her, surely... that tank top looks like a second skin on your body, it's obvious you aren't wearing a bra either. the outlines of your nipples are prominent, the low neck of the tank revealing a fucking heavenly amount of cleavage. considering ellie's only had her imagination to go off—and she's been imagining what your body looks like naked—this is the closest she's ever got.

of course, what ellie wants to do right now is take a picture and let this last forever. but what she wants to do even more, is pin you down against the couch and take a proper look for herself. ha, as if.

this poor baby. she's been staring for so long, thinking you won't notice. of course you noticed! she's working herself up so much, shifting and squirming in her seat, trying to subtly press her hand between her thighs, and her eyes dart from the tv to your tits over and over.

it's a little tricky to decide how to act in response. she's your friend, and she just looks so worked up that you can't help feeling a little bad, almost like you owe her some for being the cause of her current issue. and she's vehemently reassured you that she's totally fine, just a little hot every time you've asked if she's alright.

"els?"

this time, when ellie looks over at you, prepared to force herself to make eye contact only, she unfortunately fails immediately. because you're holding your top up.

her face feels on fire, red filling her cheeks. she gasps upon initial reaction, but she still doesn't flinch or look away. she's practically stuck. that doesn't stop her from stammering a concerned question, though.

"how— why— would you do this?"

"oh." you tilt your head, drawing your lip between your teeth. the lip biting, your doe eyes, and your current state of indecency, it has ellie fucked over. "i just, i guess i noticed you were staring n' i felt like i owed you a look!"

"ohh." no, ellie doesn't understand you at all right now, but that doesn't make her ungrateful. she's trying not to act on pussy-whipped sentiments, but it's extremely hard. and what does she say in response? "you got.. niiiice boobs."

"thank you."

"can i..." ellie trails off, wiping her sweaty hands over her jean-clad thighs. "can i touch?"

her voice broke saying that, and she feels ridiculous. but you? you've never had a girl be genuinely nervous to touch you before.

"of course you can," you murmur, feeling warmth spread into both your face and panties. "i want you to."

"okay." you don't think you've ever heard ellie sound like this before. but she's reeling. you want her to do this. "i've never touched.. a girl before, never touched any boobs before, sorry."

"oh, reaaally?" you ask, giggling. somehow that only made your panties dampen more. "it's okay! just c'monn..."

"yeah, okay." ellie nods as if to psyche herself up, and then she moves closer to you. she makes sure, one more time, that her hands aren't clammy, before cupping your breasts.

she takes pretty firm handfuls, and her hands are shaky but so warm. ellie herself has to bite back a whimper, feeling your plushness in her palms. your skin is soft as silk. she's slow with it at first, massaging the supple flesh with slender fingers. the longer it goes on for, the more she discovers she really, really loves it.

ellie starts squeezing. she's hit gold when she brushes her thumbs over your nipples, because your entire body shivers. she lets out a shaky laugh before rolling the hardened buds beneath her callouses, watching you start to breathe a bit heavier. she experiments; pulling, tugging, pinching. she's squeezing your tits so roughly, pulling on your nipples a little too hard and yet when she does so, it makes you moan.

prettiest sound on earth. need to hear that more. ellie wants to hear that in her freaking dreams at night.

this feels like a dream altogether.

ellie doesn't really have any concept of gentle versus rough. she's plainly new to this and just a little over-excited. especially when you start to whimper. she's gone when she notices you start to rock your hips against the air, and she licks her dry lips.

"h-hey, come.. sit.. on my lap if you want..."

when you do, and ellie feels your thighs squeeze around her own, she feels her breathing speed up. she has her crush perched on her lap, grinding against her leg, and she's playing with your tits.

you drag your clothed cunt over ellie's thigh, back and forth. to hold yourself up you grab her by the shoulders and hold your top up between your teeth so ellie doesn't have to worry about a thing. you only want her to have the most perfect time manhandling your tits, so you'll be good and make sure your body is completely readily accessible to her.

"ellie, ellie!"

said girl is completely winded. she's wide-eyed, looking up at you like you aren't even real. you're squeaking out her name so sweetly, she's starting to think she won't make it. all this blood is rushing downwards and she can feel her pussy throbbing against her boxers. it feels like she's going to pass out.

"w-what's wrong?"

"nothingggggg, just keep doing that, s'feels sooo nice."

"oh! okay." honestly, ellie was also not so confident in her abilities. so to know that she is, somehow, making you feel actual pleasure? she's ecstatic. can't stop grinning so dumbly, bouncing her knee to stimulate you further.

and the way that your tits bounce right in front of her face? it's just so erotic. ellie relishes in the sounds of your weak whining, the fact that you're starting to sweat a little, and panting like a puppy.

"you're so fuckin' cute," ellie rasps, looking up at you. "you're doing so, so good."

now, ellie is no expert, her only 'training' is just the copious amounts of porn she's watched (and pretended was you and her). but she can tell you're getting close.

she also thought she'd be a little more suave with her words. she's trying so hard, yet for some reason no good dirty talk can make its way out. it's just getting stuck, as if she's really afraid to say it.

your orgasm builds up so fast. you hadn't even intended for it, but it hit you like a freight train. so hard and fast that when you cum, you pull ellie close and effectively suffocate her against your chest (by accident, of course), squeezing her tight whilst high moans and shrill gasps leave your mouth.

you slowly come down from the high, now panting into ellie's ear.

finally, she feels brave enough to speak up. that doesn't stop her voice from cracking, however, her shock evident. bless her.

"th–that's a good girl."

[eand47]

The 'Nice Lady'

ONE SHOT (REQUEST) - Portgas D Ace/Reader (female)

REQUEST: I am not sure if you take requests but if you do, can you do a small fluff of ace introducing y/n as his wife in alabasta to the strawhats!

WARNINGS: english is not my first language, explicit language, use of pet names, Ace is a little touchy but you don't mind, stealing, fighting marines

WORD COUNT: 3,7K

✰ masterlist ✰

NOTE: This request was so fun to write so I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did ♡ I know that it took me a month to post it and that is why the end is kind of rushed, for which I'm sorry, but I hope you guys understand that things take time and that writing is just a hobby for me ♡ Thank you for all the support ♡ Feel free to like, comment and reblog as it helps reaching more people ♡ Enjoy♡

Arabasta – the hottest island and country you have ever been on. Sand and endless kilometers of desert between each city are everywhere. Right now, you are in Alubarna, an ancient city and the capital of Arabasta. The city architecture is manly domed buildings and towers, with ruins from the past all over the outside parts of it, making it very exotic and attractive for people from other islands to visit and explore, though now it is mostly local people around as the country has suffered a big lack of water so the drought that has taken over the country is life treating, except for the capital.

Looking for an escape from the burning hot sun in the busy market streets in Alubarna, you have found yourself in a small clothes shop, trying on different and typical for the country dresses or two-piece sets. Taking look at the mirror and twisting your body left and right you will lie to yourself if you say that you haven’t fallen in love with the current two piece set you are wearing. It is a beautify long white skirt with golden belt on top of the waistline with small Caribbean blue stones attach to it. Your chest is covered by a white top – white see-through long sleaves and a bra part, covered in white and golden sequins with a beautiful crafted Caribbean blue stone in the middle of it, you have never felt prettier in a pair of clothes as you feel now. Looking at the mirror you feel like a princess of the desert.

“You are definitely coming home with me.” You murmur with a smile to yourself as you check yourself out one last time. ��How much are you by the way?” Tapping with your hands trying to find the price tag your eyes widen once you have found it. “A thousand and five hundred berries! Are they crazy?” Shaking your head in disbelief you take the price tag in your hands and tear it away from the skirt. “Not like I was planning to pay for it anyway.” You whisper with a smile as you gather your own clothes in the small green zebra print bag you have carried with yourself. Stepping out of the changing room you look around carefully before going to the cash register.   

“Oh, I see you have liked the set, m’lady.” The middle-aged man, the owner of the shop you guess, says as he sees you approaching him.

“Yes, I did – in fact I plan to buy more, but you see...” Your gesture to him to get closer to you like you don’t want the rest of the customers to hear what you are about to say. “I’m very pretensions and I was wondering - do you by any chance have something that it hasn’t been displayed yet?” You flutter your lashes at him. “The price doesn’t matter.” You give a little wink as you see him falling for your little act.

The middle aged, slightly round and bald man’s eyes spark with happiness as he hears this – you are his favourite type of client. He tells you to give him a second and that he will be back in just a second and the moment he leaves the cash register you don’t waste any time and run out of the shop. After a moment you hear a scream, a yell, something among the lines “Catch the bugler!”, but it is too late now as you have already escaped and blend yourself with the crowd in the market.

Walking along the streets you start to look around for your husband. He has to be somewhere near by, you just hope he hasn’t wandered somewhere far away, as sometimes he has the habit to does so.

“Buy this apple and you will be able to live up to thousand years.” You hear a merchant offer his scammed goods to someone.

"Sorry, I'm not interested in living thousand years. I just need to live today." You hear the person responds, and a sly smirk appears on your lips. Fixing your posture and lifting your chin up a bit, you start walking around the market a bit more confident. It doesn’t take long before you hear a voice behind you. “Who in their right mind has let you wander around all by yourself?”

Biting on your inner cheek, trying to stop yourself from smiling, you answer. “My husband.”  

“Ah, what a fool is your husband. Letting a gem like you all alone.” The person walking behind dramatically says. “What if someone steals you?”

“I doubt someone would dare.” You shrug with one shoulder as you make a turn, walking into a small dead-end alley, away from preying eyes.

“Hm, how so?” The man behind you smirks as he has followed you and now stands even close to you.

“Because my husband always finds me.” You smile as you turn around to face the man standing behind you and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a burning, full of passion kiss.

“You look beautiful baby.” Ace says as he pulls away from you and checks you all without any remorse. “Damn, I really need to stop letting wander by yourself, because someone might steal you from me for real.” He pulls you close to him as he runs his hands around your bare waist, feeling your soft skin under his fingers.

“I can say the same for you Portgas.” You giggle as you place your fingers on his broad muscular chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingers. He is always so warm, even without the burning sun, Ace is like a walking one, but you don’t mind it, you never had and never will. After all you have gotten a personal heating blanket in the face of your husband for the rest of your life, how can you complain? “Are you hungry my love?”

“Always.” He slowly nods and licks his lower lip, not being able to tear his eyes from the curves of your body in this two-piece set. He usually can’t take his eyes of you no matter what you are wearing, or not wearing, but this piece of clothing is doing something to him.

“I meant food Ace.” You softly sigh as you place two fingers under his chin and lift it up so he can look at your eyes. “Eyes here boy. So, are you hungry?”

“Always.” He says as he pulls you close to him once again and kisses the top of your head before you get on your way to dish and dash somewhere.

You are both sitting at the bar in the first restaurant you have found. While Ace is already on his third plate you are still on your first, taking your time savouring the taste of the tipical local dish you have ordered for yourself, enjoying the new flavours that you are trying for a first time ever, while your husband just appreciates the fact that the food is good.

“Have you got any leads so far?” You ask your raven-haired husband.

“No.” He answers with frowned brows. “But I’m sure I have something on Lu-” Hearing a loud splash noise from the plate of your husband, you jump on the side as you don’t need to look to see that it is in fact him having a narcolepsy attack midway lunch.

“Thanks God, he didn’t eat something with sauce on it.” You breathe out relieved, after checking your outfit to see it has gotten a spot or something from the food. People in the restaurant gather around your worried, but you told them not to worry as you got this. Pulling Ace up, you clean his face with a napkin as this has become like a second nature to you now, as he slowly starts to wake up.

“Sorry, baby. Please don’t tell me I ruined your clothes.” He gives you an apologetic look as he checks you out to make sure he hasn’t splashed any food on you. You shake your head with a smile and before you get the chance to respond to him - he is gone. Your husband is literally gone, as he has been swept away with a force straight through some walls and now instead of him, a guy identically looking like your husband, stands next to you.

“Ha, now this is interesting turn of events.” You chuckle as you observe the boy with the straw hat standing next to you. “Running away from trouble Luffy?” You ask like you have known him for years, even though this is the first time ever you see your husband’s little brother, whom you only know from stories and his bounty poster.

“Yes, this annoying Smoker doesn’t leave me alone.” He answers to you without even questioning how you even know him or what is he running from. “Hey, are you eating all this by yourself?” He looks back and forth between you and the three extra plates left with food from your husband.

“Eat them if you are hungry.” You smile and hand one of the plates to the young reckless pirate and his eyes widen from happiness as he takes the plate and devours it in seconds. “You can take the rest as well.” You say standing up as you make your way to where your husband has been sent flying to make sure that he is okay, you know he is, but you are sure he would like to know that it was his little brother who caused all that.

“Thank you, nice lady.” Luffy screams after you with full mouth.

You just giggle as you make your way through the broken walls. “Damn, this was quite the impact.” Murmuring under your breath you finally reach your husband, who is getting up from the ground and doesn’t look very happy with what have happened. “Are you okay, Ace?” Your sweet voice catches up his attention and he just nod. Opening his mouth to say something he is getting interrupt by a yell from Smoker, who you haven’t even noticed until now, but he is long gone before any of you can react as he goes to chase after Luffy once again.

“Straw-hat?” Ace looks at you with excitement.

“Yes, I forgot to mention that the person behind this mess in no other than your little brother, so I think you might want to jump in the chase.” With a little twist of your body to the side you gesture to your husband to go run after his brother.

“You know where to meet me princess.” Ace says as he gives you a quick peck on the lips and runs after his brother.

“Huh? That’s weird. Why am I the only one here?” Luffy wonders as he finds himself in a dead alley sitting on a water barrel, with neither his crew nor brother around. Speaking of his brother, he still can’t believe he has reunited with him after not seeing each other for who knows how long. “Where did everyone go?”

“Sheesh! I guess my letting you escape was pretty pointless.” Luffy hears the too familiar voice sarcastically says somewhere close to him. Looking around and then finally up, Luffy sees his older brother standing there with a big smile.

“Yo, Ace!” Luffy jumps on his feet as his brother lands on the ground.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Luffy.” Observing now his grown little brother, Ace can’t feel anything else but be proud of him and of the man his is becoming.

“You too, Ace.” Both grip on each others’ hands is a strong lock over the barrel. “How long has it been?”

“Good question, but Luffy, it looks like you still go on your own pace, just like you did when you were kid.” Ace smirks mischievously as he can feel his brother putting force in trying to get Ace’s hand down and claim himself a winner.

“You too, Ace. I was surprised you ate a Devil Fruit, but besides that you’re the same.” Luffy says with a big grin.

“Oh, ye?” Ace laughs out loud as he hasn’t expected to hear this. He has definitely changed a lot since they last saw each other.

“Like when you would sneak into the fields and eat a hundred watermelons and then spit the seeds like your mouth is a gun and run?” Luffy blurs out fast as Ace has taken upper hand in their hand fight.

“This wasn’t me. It was you.”

“And then you got big bumps right here.”

“That was you again. I just watched and laughed.” Ace says as he is close to take the hand of his little brother down, but the barrel with water under them breaks due to their strength and their hands stay in the air locked in a firm handshake.

“I guess we’re both the same.” Luffy’s big smile spread across his face as him and Ace unlock hands and go for a high-five. “This brings back memories.”

Walking around town the two brothers are having small talks and catching up to each other, yet Ace still hasn’t mentioned the fact that he has married the girl of his dreams recently as he wants to do this when you are standing next to him. You have turned his life upside down in the best way possible and having you in it makes it finally worth living.

“Say, what kind of crew you have?” Ace is curious to know with what people his little brother has surrounded himself and Luffy wastes no time telling him about his crew – a swordsman, a navigator, a cook, a lair and the latest addition a reindeer. “That’s quite the variety you’ve got there.”

“We also have a princess and a duck now.” Luffy excitedly exclaims. “They’re all so interesting.”

“I’m sure you are the most interesting of them all.” Ace chuckles. “Still, a handful of people for a pirate crew... That’s just like you.” He smirks looking at Luffy.

“And I want a musician, too.”

You are waiting patiently by the Striker. It has been some time now, but you are sure that Ace is just catching up with his little brother. As you are sitting and waiting, finally, you see you husbands silhouette approaching you. You get up on your feet and smile at him once he stands in front of you.

“How was it?” You ask while wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You have to meet him officially.” Ace tells you with a big smile. “He is already on his ship so we can make a quick visit. After all I need to check his crew personally, what if they are not good enough for him?”

“Ay, ay commander.” You laugh out.

You and Ace gather your things quickly in the Striker and get to the open sea fast. As you are approaching the Going Merry you notice that there are quite lot of marines.

“I will take care of them.” Ace winks at you and you playfully roll your eyes. He just wants to show off to his little brother and crew, but you won’t deny that you enjoy the show yourself. It doesn’t take long for your husband to take down the three marines ships after all he is Fire Fist Ace, what else is there to be said?

Landing on the railing of the Going Merry, Ace is met with an awe by the entire crew. While they are having their little interaction you have reached the ship with the Striker and quietly made your way up to your husband who sensed you the moment you stopped your little boat.

“Hey, Luffy.” Ace awkwardly says with a big grin spread across his lips. “There is someone I would like you to meet.” He scratches the back of his neck as he is not sure exactly how to announce to his brother that he is a married man now. “You see I-”

“Hey, what are you doing here, nice lady?” Luffy asks confused as he is the first one to notice you standing next to Ace on the railing, and now him, his crew and your husband all look at you confused. A sea of questions start being thrown at you from how you managed to get on the ship to who you are, until one particular question takes everyone out by surprise.

“Nice lady? Why does he call you this?” Ace looks at you in confusion.

“Oh, we met in the restaurant where he sent you flying.” You explain with a smile and Ace’s eyes shit to Luffy who nods his head in confirmation.

“She let me eat for free.” Luffy adds and now it all makes sense to Ace why he calls you the ‘nice lady’. “How you two know each other?”

Looking at you, with all the love and admiration in the world, Ace can’t stop the smile which spreads across his face as he says, “This is my wife.” You return the smile as you two step down of the railing into the deck and interlace your fingers. “Luffy and crew, this is my wife (Y/N).” Ace introduces you to everyone and they are all in awe, now that the confusion and shock has passed away.

“He is a good big brother.” Chopper, the cute reindeer doctor says, and Usopp the guy with unusual long nose nods in agreement.

“Wish I had one growing up.” Usopp adds to Chopper’s comment.

“And he is a good husband.” Nami the navigator of the ship as she has introduced herself to you exclames as she cluches her chest admiring you and Ace.

“A loving one on top of it.” Vivi, the princess of Arabasta, adds as she wraps her arms around Nami.

“I hope I get blessed with such a beautiful, gorgeous wife myself one day.” Sanji, the cook of the ship cries out, and for a moment you even think that if his eyes can turn into a heart shape they will. 

“Simp.” Zoro, the swordsman, makes fun of him, but the blush on his face is not helping as he shyly takes glance at you.

“Wife? Why?” Luffy’s eyes shifts between you and Ace in slight confusion. The whole concept of marriage has been something he has never understood so this is a bit confusing for him.

“What do you mean by why, you idiot?” Sanji screamed at him. “Having a wife as beautiful as (Y/N)-swan must be the closest feeling to heaven.” He cries out again.

You and your husband just laugh at the scene in front of you. His brother is exactly as he has described him, but he is obviously a good kid with good friends along his journey.

“When did you two married?” Vivi looks at you excitedly and Nami follows her with a question.

“How did you two meet?”

“How do you find a woman like her?” The lovesick cook cries out... again.

Before you or Ace can answer any question Luffy interrupts. “Why don’t you stay with us for a bit?” To which you agree.

Two days have past since you have joined the crew and both, you and Ace, are having fun with his brother and friends. The similarities between Ace and Luffy sometimes scare you a bit, due to the fact that you are aware they are not biological brothers by any means, yet they act and look like ones so much.

The night has taken over the desert and you are having fun with the girls, missing the feeling of having female company around you, as the crew you are part of is mostly made of men, which you don’t mind, because not only you have met the love of your life among these men, but also your family.

Everyone has started preparing to go to sleep, while the little adorable reindeer Chopper is having a little banter with Usopp, but Zoro is quick to put an end to it. Meanwhile Ace is observing everyone and everything carefully, enjoying the night, but also lost in his own thoughts.

“Yo, Luffy. Come here.” Ace calls out for his brother and signals to him with a nod to follow him. Stepping aside from everyone and making sure that no one would hear him, Ace looks at Luffy seriously. “I want you to promise me something.”

“What?” Luffy raises one brow a little annoyed with his brother interrupting his fun before bed.  

“If something ever happens to me, I-” Ace can’t finish his sentence as he is quickly being interrupt.

“What do you mean if something happens to you? You have promised me that you won’t die.” His brother is quick to remind him the promise Ace has given a long time ago.

“And I won’t.” Ace replies slight harshly as his brother doesn’t even let him finish his sentence. “Now let me finish what I have to say.” He scolds Luffy. “I’m saying – If something happens to me, I want you to promise me to take care of her.” Ace can’t help but look at your direction. “I know she is strong and can handle herself no matter what, but please, promise me that you will look after her if something ever happens.” He returns his attention to his brother.

“I promise Ace. But you also have a promise to keep.”

“And I will.” Ace winks to his little brother as he pats his back, and they return to the rest of the group.

Seeing them coming back you give Ace a smile – a smile for which he is willing to die for but also keep on living for every day, as his days have become better since the day he saw it for a first time ever. Back there he has promised to himself on the spot that he will call you his wife no matter what, and he did keep his promise.

writing, format, header & dividers © eand47 ©eand47, do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[fireladyofink]

Oh God.. uuhhhh.. been a minute since I tried one of these..

Skipping 1, hate first person, just can't do it, not even read it.

2 is 100% Andlàtkyn. There's some issues here and there but it will always be my pride and joy.

Due to not posting on AO3 (even though I really should be), 3 is mostly ineffective. Except Wattpad has tags. I'd say UTAU, dragons and crossover.

4, lol. Literally. Lately I keep using that (only when texting others) and it's bothering me. I feel like a simpleton because of how much I'm saying that, eugh.

5 I've honestly learned a lot while researching fics. For one, I found out lantana berries are toxic to humans yet taste like blueberries, and I have them growing in my backyard. They're actually my favorite plant! I love their flowers; so pretty, and they have such a uniquely funky smell as well. Part of why I adore them, it stands out so much without being a bad smell. And the leaves have a sort of citrus smell? I love lantanas.

6 I don't know. I've thought about requests due to the money, but I feel like I'd either struggle to start writing it or get carried away with it- or straight up not finish in a reasonable timeframe. Commissions? Like art commissions? Maybe in a few years when I'm more confident in my skills and also somehow have a drawing tablet to properly draw digitally. Something like that.

7 Either or. I love making sickeningly sweet coffee or various different teas.

8 Is honestly hard to decide! Off the top of my head I can think of Dust initially meeting Killer with the hilariously absurd question of "What do you mean you don't have a mouth? How are you speaking right now? Your ass?"

9 Believe it or not it was basically when I first got a phone and commented a short story in the comments of a YouTube video. Someone replied with a suggestion of Wattpad. The rest is history, lol.

10 Off the top of my head I can't think of anything beyond something very specific for the fic I've been thinking about again lately, Ninjagaësia. Only time I've written outside of the UT fandom too, I specifically want to get around to writing that version of Zane more. What I had planned for him is fun as hell. An absolute badass.

11 Lots of comments, votes and people enjoying it. Which, continuing the above mention, Ninjagaësia doesn't qualify for. Pretty unsuccessful, but for once I don't really care.

12 Undertale AU's. I doubt I'll ever leave, either.

13 No. Hell, my ultimate fic of Andlàtkyn was written throughout the later half of highschool. I am technically working on an original story on the sidelines, I call it my worldbuilding project because I'm building up so much lore in this world before I actually touch on the story itself outside of a vague idea. About 60-ish different species of people, including the were-diseases. Last I counted, anyway. I'll be working on it for years, I know it, and I don't mind that either.

14 Comments talking about my fics on said fics. Actual interactions! It brings me joy. 🧡

15 My family is well aware. I don't bring up a lot of details but the last time I went into vague detail with my mother it was over a scene in Andlàtkyn (no direct spoilers) and she interpreted it weirdly and now she teases me by asking if I'm killing babies again! A bit awkward..

16 Actually finishing a damn story. I don't mind the periods of no writing until I get inspired again, but what annoys me is when I can't seem to finish anything. Only ever finished Andlàtkyn. I still have yet to write anything for the sequel to it, either! Zeradelsída is still just a bunch of loose plot points..

17 I am semi successfully writing benevolent eldritch horror. It doesn't intend harm, but it is truly.. horrifying nonetheless. The uncertainty of someone knowing he died, feeling his own heart stop beating, and feeling something OTHER seep inside and force it to start again, pulsing in his veins, fusing with his anatomy, permanently altering both him and itself into something completely unknowable.. I'm rambling. Anyone who hasn't seen my Wattpad, read Awakened. If you don't mind ridiculously long fics, read Andlàtkyn too!

18 I have at least 7 I mostly expect to finish, with at least 4 others just kind of.. there. I don't think I've posted any of those, either. I also have ideas inspired by dreams that I'd love to write down someday, though don't really expect to actually codify.

19 I kind of just don't. I work on different projects as the inspiration hits, take a backseat for a month or so, then come back to either the same project or a different one.

20 Hmmm.. Hard to think of something specific. I'm leaning towards stuff in Andlàtkyn. I don't really have a favorite kiss scene because I don't do romance. I write adventure! Andlàtkyn has some side romance though- not that any of it is my favorite. Platonic stuff, though.. I'd say my favorite is honestly Lust and Alter incidentally befriending each other and becoming venting buddies. It's the cutest thing, their friendship is adorable and wholesome despite the background angst. I didn't write nearly as much of them as deserved.

21 Honestly it's mostly lack of inspiration that I'm pretty sure stems from depression. If I could get an ADHD prescription or depression meds I'd probably be a lot better but like. I am completely broke. So much so that those issues aren't even in the top 10 of pressing problems solved with money.

22 Given I've literally only done it once.. not really. I guess I post it around everywhere I can think of in excitement?

23 That one continuous dream I had that went on over a month centered on a Nightmare that was freshly corrupted. He was honestly so nerdy and adorable despite putting on the brave and mildly "evil" front. The boy. Him. Goddamnit I want to write that at some point.

24 Honestly I can't think of anything for this one.

25 Oh yeah, I can't think of anything off the top of my head but there's a lot I'd like to fix in all of my stories, lol.

26 Kind of? It's a more recent development, did it for Zeradelsída which still has yet to be written, did it for that Ninjagaësia too. A little bit of a broad, even vaguer outline for things I want to happen in Awakened, too? More like events, no particular order or connection.

27 A few of those WIP's that haven't been posted... Okay technically just one. There's also the very first fic I wrote that is subsequently the only one I've ever deleted.

28 Angstiest often coincides with cursed for some reason, so I'll just go with the ending of Andlàtkyn for the Apple Twins.

29 I kind of just.. don't. If I do, I start hating everything, and because I'm not THAT bad at spelling and grammar I think it's mostly fine the way it is.

30 Oh absolutely. It's particularly obvious when one looks at Andlàtkyn, which I wrote over the course of 4 years. Really neat transition, if I ever manage to do it, I'd rewrite the beginning a little to match the rest when crossposting to AO3. If I ever get around to that.

31 Again, Andlàtkyn. That fic is my baby, man. It's so precious to me.

32 Honestly I don't know for this one, which is weird.

33 100% Ink of Awakened. My little boy. I have some friends that would rib the hell out of me if they ever found out, lol. Thankfully the main one doesn't even remember that he has a Tumblr.

34 I was not expecting how hard of a question this is! I thought it was Andlàtkyn, but thinking about it.. I don't think so? It might simply just change depending on which one I'm currently fixated on, but at the moment I think my favorites to get that on is Awakened and Ninjagaësia, second of which already has basically nothing to begin with.

35 I don't have anything, oof.

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[maskedcrawford]

Green Eyed Monster

G-Dragon x Reader x platonic! Jackson Wang

Summary: You and Jackson Wang get close through work and your ex isn't too keen on the fact that it looks like you've moved on.

Warnings: Some angst, fluff at the end.

A/N: Thank you to anon who requested, I got to try my hand at writing for Jackson Wang and I'm going to OPEN requests for him if you guys want something. Leave a like and/or a reblog if you enjoy! Much love <3

Requests are OPEN

You’re sitting in the makeup chair when you feel a pair of hands delicately touch your shoulders. You look up from your phone in the mirror and you see his big dark eyes and light brown hair in the mirror.

“Well, it took ya long enough, J,” you say with a teasing smile as you get up and hug him. You and Jackson Wang had been working together for the last 4 months on a song for your album and today you were shooting the video.

“Always a pleasure,” he says genuinely and returns your hug. Were you and Jackson together? No. Were there rumors about such things? Absolutely. The song being about love didn’t help matters. You guys had known each other briefly through mutual friends but when you had the idea for the song, you knew his vocals would take it to the next level.

“Jackson, Y/N!” the director shouts and you two spring into action with the video. The video itself was pretty intimate; the two of you on a bed tangled together in the sheets, touching, be all close and having no sense of personal space whatsoever. But, Jackson is a professional.

“So if I put my hand here,” he’s talking to the director and looks at you and you give him a nod before he touches your hip.

“And then I can slide it up like this,” he does the motion and pulls you closer to him.

“Yeah, that’ll work perfectly,” your director says and you roll with it.

“Let’s move on to the kiss,” the director announces after that scene. You blush as the time comes for the practical make out session that’s needed for the scene. Jackson was obviously cute, and him so being so respectful and kind? That only made it worse.

You can’t help the nervous laugh as you two are placed together and he starts smiling at you.

“You ok?” he asks genuinely, “We can figure something else out if we need to, find another way to,” you put your hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’m fine, seriously. Just don’t eat my face,” you wink at him with a chuckle. He gives you a gorgeous smile while shaking his head.

“Might be hard, you’re lookin extra good in that outfit,” he subtly looks you up and down. You two had a flirty relationship, but both of you knew it wouldn’t really go anywhere. The scene commences and you lock lips passionately and for a brief moment you forget its for a music video, that is until you hear the director call cut and you both slowly separate, a slight blush on both of your cheeks.

“That was great, guys. We’ll pick it up tomorrow!”

The video is done after a few days and the album dropped four months later. Your adventures continue with a world tour together, but tonight you were performing at the infamous MAMA awards. Since you two were doing a love song it was known that you would have to kiss for the sake of the performance.

“Look, people love us together,” you smile as you show him a picture you posted with a bunch of likes. He smiles as he clicks on the comments.

“This isn’t helping the dating rumors ya know,” he winks at you playfully and you roll your eyes.

“Us kissing every night doesn’t either, not to mention neither one of us have confirmed or denied anything. Besides, who we go out with really isn’t their business.”

“Ever since you made headlines with G-Dragon though, they think it is,” he corrects you.  You raise your eyebrows with a sigh that confirms he isn’t wrong.

You and Jiyong had been together 4 years, until the beginning of this year. Schedules got in the way, and Ji had admitted to kissing another woman at a party when he was drunk. It was a one-time thing and for a while you were able to move past it, but eventually, everything came crashing down.

“How could you still not trust me?” he shouted. You were in tears, your nerves were shot and honestly you didn’t want to have the argument.

“You were all over her, Ji. Tell me I’m lying! You kissed another woman before, it’s not like you couldn’t do that and more,” your voice was bitter and weak from tears.

“Oh my god, are you ever going to let it go?” he looked annoyed, he looked weak and desperate to escape the mistake that played through your mind more than you cared to admit. You loved him more than anything, more than life itself practically. But who was he to tell you how long it took to heal? Who was he to say that he atoned for what he did just because of a few ways he tried to make it up to you. Girls were constantly all over him so it wasn’t like he was in short supply. It had caused you to feel insecure, regardless of whether or not he was drunk.

The two of you stayed silent, deafeningly silent, until Ji finally sighs and rubs his temple with his fingers.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he mumbles, “I can’t keep paying for this when I think I’ve proven I’m not that person,” his eyes are cold, depleted of life. It broke him to do this, but he didn’t see any other way.

“We’re done,” he said before walking out of your house with nothing more than a kiss to the forehead.

“Earth to Y/N,” Jackson calls out and you shake your head pulling yourself out of the intense flashback.

“Huh, oh, sorry,” you sheepishly rub the back of your neck.

“Let’s practice one more time,” he takes your hand helping you stand up.

“Ji, have you seen this?” Taeyang was over at his house and pulled up the love song you and Jackson put out.

“Hmm?” he glances away from his phone and furrows his brows at the video. He see’s the two of you kiss on screen and he feels, that pang of jealousy. He’s seen the video before, he seen it the day it came out, actually. But he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t want to think of it.

He hadn’t seen you since that night, not in person anyway. On TV shows and award ceremonies, he would watch, quietly support you and your career, even liking the first picture or two you posted of you and Jackson.

“They are performing tonight at the MAMA awards, so you’ll probably get to see her,” Taeyang calls out as he heads to the kitchen.

“She’s going to be there?” His voice is rushed, excited almost.

“Yup, we better go too, we’ll be late.”

You and Jackson are at the venue preparing for the show, hitting the choreography perfectly multiple times.

“OK, we gotta get dressed,” you say as you two come out of each other’s embrace

“We got this in the bag,” you both high five and he brings you in for a hug.

“You should really layer a little more deodorant,” you say with a giggle. He sniffs his shirt and makes a twisted face.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he laughs as he jogs off stage. As you walk off to go to the dressing room you stop as your breath hitches in your throat.

Ji-yong laughs as he feels someone stop and stare, he looks away from his manager and he spots you. His smile fades as he takes in your shocked face.

It’s still as beautiful as the first day he met you. He gives you a small wave and smile and you can’t move. His gaze is friendly and lingers for a moment. He starts to walk towards you, until he see’s Jackson come up behind you with his hand resting on your back. You look up at him directly and he can see the smile on your face when you look at him.

He feels the aching jealousy well up inside him but he pushes it down. You nod your head at something he says, and Jackson flits his gaze to Ji before giving a pursed lip smile and dragging you off with him in another direction.

“What could she possibly see in him?” Ji yong asks out loud not really expecting an answer.

“Hyung, did you really think she wouldn’t,” Ji-yong shoots Taeyang a glare, “Move on?” he finishes carefully.

“It’s been 8 months,” he tries to be gentle with Ji’s feelings, but the sting is too much. Jackson Wang was in a place he was supposed to be in. One he’d still be in most likely if he hadn’t of screwed up.

“Still fucking stings,” he grumbles. Taeyang sighs and gives his friend a hug.

“You both,” he pulls back and looks his friend in the face, “Need to move on. It’s time.” He tries to encourage him, tries to show him it’s healthy to move on, but the way Ji-yong loved you, despite his mistake, he was sure he’d never love anyone the same way.

“It’s not that easy, hyung.” He sighs as he sits down for the stylist to do his hair.

“She was everything, my muse, my rock, my reason for breathing. There were days I only got out of bed because I knew I would see her and that it would help make my day better,” he remembers fond memories as he talks to Taeyang about you. One of you and him riding the ferries wheel and getting stuck on top, that’s where your fist kiss was. When you accidently spilled ice cream on your top and he gave you jacket to cover it. When you’d both grow bored at parties after a little while and want to leave to just spend quiet time at home. He missed the way your touch made him feel like everything would work out, the way you made him feel like he was enough for exactly who he was. He sighs as he finishes getting ready for the show.

“Ok, are you ready for this?” Jackson asks you with anticipation.

“Absolutely, just don’t kiss me with tongue tonight,” you swat his arm and he laughs.

“No promises,” he winks and kisses your temple. You both get into position and the song starts as the lights go up. You follow the normal dance routine, spinning and swaying your hips to the beat, and kissing at the end of the song.

As the song is performed Ji can’t help but watch from the side of the stage, the way your body moves so gracefully and how it fits to Jackson’s so well when he had to wrap his arms around you, but it wasn’t the perfect way it fit Ji-yong’s. No, your body wouldn’t fit to anyone else’s the way it did his. He noticed the happy smile on your face, only noticing it falter when your eyes locked as you look his way.

The song ends and the lights go back down. You and him rush off stage and as soon as you are out of view you jump into his arms, adrenaline running high. He catches you with a huge smile on his face and he kisses your cheek sweetly. Ji-yong watches just off to the side and he rolls his eyes. He walks past you and you catch him out of the corner of your eye, his face deadpan.

You stay to the side of the stage to watch him perform. As he looks off to the side, he catches you watching, swaying your body to the music and nodding your head. He gives a half smile your way and you return one. His performance ends and he runs off stage he takes his mic off and before he can run to you, Jackson once again is in the place he wants to be, by your side.

“So, I was thinking, we could go down to the club and celebrate,” Jackson’s excited nature was infectious.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you glance at Ji-yong who’s giving you a glare again and you furrow your brows at him.

“We’ll leave in a few, get changed!” He runs off to get his stuff together and you go to walk off, but before you can you feel a hand around your wrist pulling you back. You look back and see it’s Ji-yong who has an unreadable expression on his face. You look at each other for a moment.

“I really need to talk to you,” he pleads.

“I,” you look in the direction Jackson went and back at Ji who looks slightly hopeful you’ll stay.

“I can’t,” you say tearing your arm away. He lets you go and for a moment lets you walk away before following you.

“Y/n,” he catches the door to your room. You look over at him, he still takes your breath away, the way his hair clings to his forehead from the sweat, the way he looks at you with his dark eyes, the way his clothes somewhat soaked with sweat cling to his body.

“What, Ji? I have somewhere to be, Jackson isn’t going to wait on me forever,” he scoffs and looks off to the side, mumbling something to himself.

“You want to share with the rest of the class,” you sass him.

“Not really,” he sasses back. You roll your eyes.

“I’m changing so at least shut the door. He walks in and shuts it.

“I meant with you on the other side of it,” you shoot him a glare of annoyance.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen, held or tasted before,” he smirks and you roll your eyes with a sharp exhale.

“Whatever,” you pull your top off your head and his eyes go directly to your body, not in a sensual, sexual way, but in a way that he’s curious. He notices you’ve put on a just little weight in the last 8 months and you instinctively wrap your arms around your torso.

“Can you not, stare,” you pause looking away from him, “at me,” you hear his footsteps come closer and he lifts your chin with his thumb and index finger.

“You’re beautiful,” he slowly reaches for your arms to pull them away and he’s inches from your face.

“Ji-yong,” you put a hand on his chest pushing him back slightly. His eyes flash with hurt before he recovers.

“Be honest with me,” he says standing back further as you find a different shirt. While you’re slipping it over your head you hear him ask, “Does he touch you better than I did?”

“What? Who?!” You all but shriek.

“Your little fling,” he motions his hand as you pull the shirt over your head you take off your pants next and put on some comfortable leggings.

“What ‘fling’,” you ask bewildered by his audacity. He rolls his eyes, saying his name makes him feel ill.

“Your little affair with Jackson Wang, y/n, I know about it, and so does the rest of the world, besides with the way you were sucking face out there, you don’t try to hide it.” You can see his jealousy and you quirk a brow at him. You decide to have a little fun at his expense. After all if he’s going to be nosy and a jerk at the same time, why not have a little fun.

“What Jackson and I are, or aren’t,” you pause and stare at him directly into his eyes, “doing is none of your concern. You left me, Ji, who I’m with now is none of your business.” You strap on a pair of sandals and walk out the door leaving him standing there.

“Jackson,” you call out and race to him. You can feel Ji-yong watching you so you slip your hand in Jackson’s as you walk off.

At the club the music is loud and the drinks are good, but you start to let your mind wonder back to your ex-boyfriend.

“What are you thinking about,” Jackson yells over the music as he see’s you staring into space.

“Ji-yong,” you huff.

“He nods his head understandably. He heard about all of it, multiple times, and he knew you still loved him.

“You wanna dance?” His offer is intriguing and you decide it’s better than sitting there thinking of the guy who broke up with you. As you and Jackson dance you happen to look over your shoulder and see that face that makes your knees weak.

“Holy shit,” you yell and Jackson notices your body tense as he looks at you concerned.

“What?” you point to Ji-yong as the answer to his question.

“Go talk to him.” He tries to push you forward.

“No, he was a dick.” You pout. He nods and walks over to Ji-yong for you. You watch as he gets closer, and even buys your ex a drink.

“Listen, man, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but me and your girl,” you see him gesture to you, “We ain’t together.” He throws back a shot and so does Ji.

“She isn’t ‘my girl’,” he corrects solemnly.

“Could’ve fooled me. She talks about you constantly,” he chuckles and Ji-yong quirks his brow. Jackson knew you’d either thank him or kill him for this, but he wasn’t worried about that right now.

“She does?” he looks over to you, seeing you dance alone.

“Oh yeah, how bad she misses you, wishes things would’ve been different.” He nods his head and looks down at the bar.

“So what’s with the rumors and the kiss and,” Jackson nods interrupting him.

“We did the song together and just became close friends. As far as the kiss, management thought it’d be good for the song if we kissed like in the video. We’re completely platonic though.” He downs another shot, Ji-yong decides not to, he wants his head clear when talks to you.

“Go get her, man,” he encourages and Ji-yong nods his head as he makes his way to you. He slides in behind you while you dance and the intimate smell of cologne and cigarettes wafts to your nostrils. You feel his hand on your hips as he moves with you.

“Can we talk,” he asks in your ear and you just keep dancing, ignoring his words but not his touch, you bring his hands around your torso so he encapsulates you.

“Jagiya,” his voice is soft, sultry even, and once the music ends you sigh and turn to face him.

“Can I please talk to you,” you see Jackson at the bar smirking at you. You give him a half smile as you find an area in the club away from all the people.

“What is it,” you don’t know how else to ask.

“I miss you,” he’s straight to the point and you didn’t expect that.

“Ji,” you sigh.

“Look, I wasn’t planning on telling you, but I seen you with him tonight and I hated it. He had you the way I should, the way I did.” He steps closer to you; you back up hitting the wall. He closes the space, your mouths just inches apart. He’s intoxicating, the way he looks at you, smells, and just the feeling of his body near yours is electric.

“He kissed you the way I did, the way I still want to,” he mumbles as he caresses your cheek.

“Not really,” you utter barely above a whisper.

“Hmm,” he asks like he doesn’t understand.

“He didn’t,” you look into his dark, beautiful eyes, “kiss me the way you did. It wasn’t the same passion or love. It wasn’t the same feeling I got with you.” You feel your cheeks blush as you confess to him.

“His touch,” you runs your hands over his arms that are locked onto your hips now,“Isn’t the same. Its not as electrifying.” You look at him through your lashes.

He looks relieved.

“So, you really aren’t with him?” you shake your head no.

You bring your forehead to his and whisper to him, “I’m not with anyone, I’m yours Ji-yong, I always have been,” and before any other words can be said his lips are on yours, smoothly moving in sync and he pulls your impossibly closer as you fist his shirt.

“Aegiya,” he practically whimpers when you separate.

“I need you to come home.” You smile at his confession.

“Promise me something,” you say cautiously.

“Anything,” his desperate eyes search yours.

“You’ll give us time to rebuild trust and be patient with me,” you’re asking more than telling.

“As long as you want to trust me again, I’ll prove you can.” He smiles.

“Then lets get out of here,” you grin as he takes your hand and leads you out of the club.

If you enjoyed consider buying me a coffee

[bettystonewell]

TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 2

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Word Count: 4.1k words

Chapter Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, language, referenced physical abuse, referenced sexual assault, injuries to reader

A/N: I’m not as happy with the last two scenes as I was at time of posting - damn brain - I overthink too much. Some wording might be changed between now and the next one, but not the overall plot

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

The way the heat radiated off of you was just as Dean remembered, reminding him of what little memories he had of his mom of all things.

Your softness. The curve of your hips. Your body moulding perfectly into his had his blood thrumming in his ears and down below. Okay, that was nothing like his mother, he hoped, but he was enamoured. Had they been dealing with witches or wood nymphs, he’d say spellbound, struck by a potion or curse and growing soft.

It was hard not to be when his inner alpha acted so possessive over you.

‘Mine,’ it rumbled. Snarling and gnawing away at his resolve piece by piece, even though hours earlier, the responsibility and temptation of a mate was something he didn’t want.

‘She deserves better,’ he tried to reason with himself. Though anyone and anywhere different was an improvement on living here with your alpha in this middle of nowhere cesspool, and ‘We’d never hurt her,’ countered him back.

No, he would not. Nor would Dean ever try to scent or mark you while you were injured. He was determined by that. Knowing if he was gonna claim you, he’d have to wait and do things right. If you agreed and became his, anyone who tried to whisk you away as he had just done wouldn’t live to tell the tale, and…

What the hell was he thinking? Claiming you? Making you his?

How ‘bout where the fuck was your supposed alpha? The one whose stench soured your own. The one he hadn’t bothered looking for, and rather just picked up and took off with you.

Yeah…

Dean would never let you out of his sight. He’d never do this to you in the first place, either though, and his fingers flexed where they held you.

He was quick to release them.

‘Round your side and under your knee, the action caused your thighs to squeeze together and your breath to hiss on its inhale.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said.

He didn’t dare use omega again. Not now. Not to your face. His alpha could call you that term all it wanted, but with your matted hair now feathering the stubble on his chin when you shook yours, his gut churned.

“No. You’re helping me,” you said. “I should be thanking you.”

You may as well have struck him with a blade. Reached right through skin and flesh and into his stomach cavity and assisted the churning; further twisted his insides with your bare hands to yank them out, even. Hell, he’d do it himself. Save some time. Same effect.

“Yeah, well, I let you go back to your alpha before I knew how he’d treat you,” he said. And he should’ve known better, but so should you.

“I told you I—”

“Don’t.” He clicked his tongue. “You know I’ve thrown a lot of punches? Been on the receiving end of them too, and there’s no way those injuries were from a doorknob. So you wanna try me again?”

“I said I fell,” you whispered, and Dean stopped in his tracks, crackling the gravel beneath his boots. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Well, no, he could. You’d used that lie already in the park.

He bent his torso to leer a cocked brow, regretting that decision the second his spine moved. What little light there was above revealed more than he’d bargained for.

Yes, your thighs tightened above his arms. But so did every joint, muscle and nerve ending in his own body along with them.

Your right eye and the opposite cheekbone had distinct patches of mismatched colour, spreading. He’d say you were wearing lipstick. Only the last time he checked, makeup didn’t come with a clear, watery film around it. No. Dean knew an uppercut when he saw one. He knew the strength of an aroused alpha, too.

The shirt you wore had ripped more, and though his initials were still sitting right there, they were harder to distinguish because abrasions and puncture marks now covered them.

He felt sick. That churning in his gut would spill over you if he weren’t careful.

How?

Why?

You were his mate. Even without his scent, the swelling that billowed from your neck gave that away.

You weren’t in heat; from the scent, he wasn’t in rut, and that information just made Dean’s blood boil more than it already was. “Did he force his knot on you?”

“Ritchie…is my mate.” And your pause was telling.

“I don’t care who he is. That’s not what I’m asking you. What did he do to you?”

As if a switch had flicked, or in this case, floodgates opened. The stench of your alpha’s sack wafted up into his nose, along with more fear from you.

Your eyes filled with tears. Your limbs scrambled to pull away from him. The added stench of pine and a cheap aftershave that wasn’t his swept through the remnants of cum and sweat. But as much as that recoiled him, Dean still leaned back, taking a firm grip to shift your weight in his arms. He wasn’t letting you go.

He took a deep breath over the shame hitching in his throat, and, “I’m sorry,” he said again. Only this time, it held more than one meaning. He just hoped he could make it all up to you.

When Dean reached the motel carpark, his feet kicked up faster across the ground. “Sammy!” he yelled, not caring who heard him - he’d punch the lights outta anyone who got in his way.

His steel cap boot was raised and ready to strike the chipped wood as he yelled a second time, only for Sam to beat him to it by opening the door. His mouth, just as wide.

“Dean?”

There was no lost puppy in sight. No soft and caring younger brother who could get even a drill sergeant to crumble with one look. His eyes scanned their way across your form, though, widening along with everything else before they narrowed, honing in on where Dean’s initials should’ve been. “What—”

“What do you think?” Dean curled his frame through the door, allowing your feet to enter the room before him and the fluorescent lights to highlight the marring on your skin.

“I’ll get some ice,” Sam said, and swept his way to the fridge.

“Grab the first aid kit, too,” Dean barked back as he carried you over to his bed.

He dipped your toes to the floor, keeping his arms near as you found your footing; lifting a fraction to see the full extent of his claim. The bruising was still forming. Your skin wouldn’t turn black and blue for another couple of days, but the swelling, plus the dried blood and weeping cuts, showed early signs of infection.

His stomach stopped mid flip only to drop like a stone, heavy and solid. It sloshed the bile up his pipes, crashing over that hitch in his throat. It burned. His shoulders shrunk. His knees buckled below him.

How could… No. He could ask that until the cows came home. Until his mouth was black and blue from lack of air, it changed nothing.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” he said. Course, it wasn’t a command, but your hesitation made even his toes clench.

He needed to sit. Chuck. He needed to punch your alpha’s head in - both of them - and he dropped to his haunches, encouraging you down, too. Arms rested on his thighs, holding himself up even though every molecule and thought weighed him down.

He could hunch over this way. Push the acid and lack of self worth back into the pit of his gut and away from you. Close enough to touch when needed - and fuck, he wanted to - his knot still twitched at the thought. Skin crawling with an itch he shouldn’t scratch, just to add on to all the other effects the sight of you did to him.

But what to say? What to do? You still sniffled. Gaze well directed away from him and looking down. It was really fucking awkward, spinning miles ‘round Sammy’s looks in the car.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to see those eyes of yours up close if they were gonna rival the puffiness of your injuries, but he tried getting their attention, anyway. His amber greens flicking over his initials again and running with it. Anything to drown out everything else.

“You know the, ah, the W stands for Winchester.” His boyish chuckle tethered off when your lip curled. “And you’re—”

Dean knew your name from the missing persons sheet, but hearing you repeat it then and there was a much needed do-over. If it weren’t for your injuries staring you both in the face, you could almost class this moment as normal if he tried hard enough. You’d been with him on the hunt after all, and if he just ignored the last two hours, his shower, the park, this could simply be agood old stich-up. Nothing more.

“Right.” He repeated your name, surprised at the way it rolled off his tongue with a pleasurable rumble. It suited you. Hell, it suited him. “Will you let me clean you up?”

“Okay,” you whispered, head nodding. Mouth and body out of sync until he gave you a nod back and your smile spilled a smidgen further into your cheeks.

There you were. Sort of. The omega he’d seen at the nest before he’d touched you and brought all this on.

His fingers flexed. Insides unravelled into a warmth that made his heart thrum faster and his head feel light. “Then we’re gonna need a few things,” he said, and stood up, distracting his mind and knot as he scoured the room for something that resembled a washcloth and a basin. Made easy by the grime and grease before him.

The film on the fridge. The stench of cigarettes competing with Ritchie’s. You didn’t belong with him, but you didn’t belong here either. That became more apparent as he moved throughout the room, collecting what he could.

Coffee-pot, brewed twice with water for cleanliness, then usage. A clean shirt from his duffle, sniff-tested first, and a bottle of Jack he found in Sam’s. By the time Dean returned to sit before you, chair and supplies in tow, he’d returned with the ice, and a compress was made. Dean’s shirt doing wonders.

“Here. Hold this.” He brought the icy bundle up to your mate’s claim and placed it over the inflamed skin. There was that outta sight, outta mind again, except your fingers brushed over his on handover and he took pause through your latest hiss.

It was like a scene from a crappy romance movie. Some guy getting all worked up over the girl. 

The kind were they were almost always soulmates, of course, and always meeting in high school or college and in the most convenient of places - funny ‘bout that.

You in the park, all banged up and injured. Your mate, nowhere to be seen. Of all the cases Sam could’ve found. Of all the people, being the one they needed to rescue was as far-fetched as one of those movies, too. But then there was that warmth from your skin. His damn gut and the newfound tingling of his nerves. It was all too real. 

Was this it? Was this his crappy movie?

You were here, and he was here and…Sam was hovering over his shoulder. 

“Ah, Dean, sorry to interrupt, but can I talk to you real quick?” he said from behind.

He didn’t want to talk to Sam. Real quick never meant real quick for starters, and he had a felling he knew what he was going to say. 

“What’re you thinking?” he’d ask. Or “What’re you doing, Dean?” 

Well, Dean didn’t know himself, besides knowing he wanted to be near you. To keep you under his watchful eye. His alpha, ready to strike if Sam or anyone else so much as looked at you the wrong way. 

Damn instincts. But was it them, or the pull of being a soulmate? Like a mother, bonded and bound to her pups, one gaze was all all it took?

His alpha snarled at that, and Dean sighed. ‘Okay, maybe not.’

He crooked his neck over his shoulder, flicking his eyes over your hand first. “Can it wait?” he said as they landed on Sam’s bitch face. 

“No, it can’t.” 

He should’ve known.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam said as he paced under the awning outside the room. His hands shoved in his pockets, straining them, arms stiff as a board, even though his elbows flapped everywhere like some giant chicken.

“She’s hurt.” Of course, Dean knew full well what he’s actually meant - he didn’t need to play dumb. He had planned to come to Sam in his own time after he’d finished helping you as intended. Thanks to the interruption, though, he was now indignant, standing tall even with the messed up insides. They still dragged him down, but he put up a fight. 

More so, when Sam struck the cord, he wished to forget.

“What happened to her being nothing to you?” he said all too knowingly.

“I wanna help her.” He needed to.

“And you can. I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing. She already has a mate and—”

Dean shook his head. “The son of a bitch raped her, Sammy,” he said, self-blame replacing his usual gruffness and spitfire. He wasn’t at fault for what had happened to you. He understood that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some accountability.

Your alpha had struck you because of him. He’d attacked you. Forced himself on you in what Dean could only presume to be a bout of jealousy, and all he saw was the part he’d played by taking you home to him. 

“You know that’s not on you.”

“Yeah.” Yet his eyes grew dim all the same. He lowered them, focusing on the ground. His boots scraping the pavement, now the most fascinating thing in the world over Sam’s, which widened when he said, “And I ain’t letting her go back to him. If she doesn’t want me, that’s her choice, but there’s no way that fucker will ever lay a hand on her again.

“O-kay. Let’s ignore the part about you wanting her for a second. What’re you planning to do about him? If they’re bonded, chances are he’ll be sniffing ‘round here soon.”

Dean was hearing what his brother was saying. He was, and he had a solid point. He’d need a plan to set you free, but bonding? “I don’t think there’s a bond between ‘em. I found her in the park outside their building, and he was nowhere in sight.”

“He could be asleep?”

Dean’s chin receded into his neck. “You realise how ridiculous you sound?” 

“Do you?” 

Those words turned Dean’s body still as if he were made of stone. Eyes stuck and narrowed like the wind had changed. Jaw tight. Maybe he had fallen asleep after popping his knot. The asshole hadn’t filed the report when you were taken, your coworker had, and “I’ll deal with him if he shows,” he said.

“Dean. That’s not what—”

“Are we done?”

Sam sighed. His right hand left his pocket, and he gestured back to the room behind. “I’ll be in the car.”

Dean hadn’t even finished closing the door behind him when the smell of fresh tears flooded his nose. He’d swept across the tattered carpet once again and sat on the end of the bed next to you before his mind had even registered it was happening.

Just as his own instincts had pushed him to you, yours buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. His flannel soaked up your tears.

He wanted to ease your pain, but what could he say? He didn’t have the right to comfort you because he hadn’t protected you when you needed him. His soulmate. Not that he understood what that meant.

He was a grunt, with nothing to his name, and you were, well, he still had no fucking clue besides knowing you had his initials on your skin.

The norm was for him to want you. The scary thing was, he did. Far too much for his liking.

He had lusted over you and continued to do so even now, when he was supposed to be helping you. If your mate’s jealousy was dangerous, Dean’s instincts were more so.

They swooped his arm behind your back, letting your fingers grip his shirt. Letting your tears soak into it. He even had the audacity to brush his lips through your hair and place a chaste kiss, only to feel disappointed when your body tensed and you let him go.

“I’m sorry.” You sniveled and swiped at your eyes. Only to wince when your palms got too close. “Where’s your brother?”

Of all the things you could have said, your concern for someone other than yourself had him more smitten. There was seriously something wrong with him.

“He’s sleeping in the car tonight.”

Your hands wiped at your eyes, and you pushed yourself out of his hold. “I don’t want to put him out.”

He should’ve been happy you’d considered Sam, but his inner alpha snuck through, rough and a little snappy. “He’s sleeping in the car tonight.”

“I don’t want to put him out.”

“You’re not,” he muttered, reaching down to pick up his now wet shirt that had dropped to the floor below. He didn’t want to talk about Sam. He didn’t wanna talk about your mate either, though he knew it was inevitable. “Let’s get more ice on your neck. We gotta stop that swelling.”

He stood up and moved to the table where Sam had left the bucket earlier, and after refilling his makeshift compress, came back and took your hand again. “Here.” He positioned it over the icy bundle to hold it in place. “You’ll need some on your eye too, but that bite is a priority at the moment.”

Of course, there was still that ulterior motive to keep the offending section of skin covered, but as selfish as it was, Dean hoped that by forcing his own scented item over the top of it, you might form a bond with him.

Yeah. He was delusional, so he set the internal struggle aside, and got to work.

His hand reached for a piece of gauze floating in the now tepid water and squeezed the excess back into the coffeepot, while the other cupped your chin and pulled you to face him. With steady fingers, he brought it up to your cheeks and dabbed as gently as he was able.

“Sorry,” he said when you hissed at the touch. He needed a recording if it would save his throat some pain and allow that lump to heal. “If you wanna do this yourself, I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

“No.” Your head jiggled more than shook. “It’s bad enough I can feel it.”

Dean could understand that. Not that he feared what he saw. For him, what he couldn’t grasp was seeing your face marred that crushed him, raising the question of how.

He knew the logistics of it. You’d been struck a number of times, and while he still suspected jealousy was the cause, it made no sense. Why would your mate do this to you?

“Do you love him?” He knew he was crazy to ask, but truthfully, he wanted to know if this douchebag did or not.

“What?”

It was a simple question, and very telling that you answered that way.

“Your alpha. Do you love him?” He repeated, waiting for any unspoken clues you might give.

You took your time. For Dean it was agonising, but when you did speak, his heart panged with relief and dismay. “I thought I did,” you said. “But I didn’t think he’d do this either.”

Dean’s eyes glassed over your neck. Your claim didn’t swell like that earlier. It seemed unusual to him for an Omega not in heat. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

“I met my soulmate.”

He swallowed hard. “So he did do this because of me.”

Your head moved against him. “He didn’t believe me when I told him you didn’t want me.”

You had struggled to finish your sentence, but you didn’t need to for Dean to understand. Though he couldn’t see your face, the room was now flavoured with rejection, and while it relieved his doubts of self-worth, it upset him to know you thought that.

“But I do want—”

“Please don’t. That’s not you doing the talking. Your instincts are.”

Just as you’d said, your neck and the punctures that formed a ring around it continued to draw his eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. Mine are affecting me, even though I have a mate. If you had wanted me, you wouldn’t have taken me home.”

Dean often struggled with words, spitting out whatever came to him at the moment, whether they were full of shit or something else. But he wouldn’t let that thwart him. Not when the stakes were this high.

He dropped everything and adjusted his arms to scoop you up into his lap.

Your chest heaved, your brow grew sweaty, and his sharp senses heard the blood as it flowed to all the correct places in your body. Inside his, it did the same.

“You’ve got it all wrong.” Dean’s fingers moved on their own accord, pulling the hand and arm that attached to them to trace over the scratches and cuts that covered your shoulders. “I thought you’d be safer with him.”

“So did I,” you said. And it sliced him deep.

You hadn’t meant it that way, but Dean’s psyche was so full of self-loathing that even though he wished you weren’t, he had already decided you were fearful of him.

Depleted and forever quick to act, he lifted you with ease and set you back onto the bed. “I should get you some more ice.”

He picked up his shirt and moved to stand, but before he could, your gentle touch gripped his arm. “Alpha?” The pleasant sound warmed his ears and tugged at his chest. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not scared of you.”

You were more perceptive than Dean thought.

“Well, you don’t need to be scared of him anymore either,” followed the smirk that curled his lips as his back turned away from you. He really did need ice.

Four hours later, Dean was still wide awake while you slept under a pile of blankets in the bed next to him. Wearing sweats instead of his jeans, he sat up against the headboard. His ass, purposely on top of the covers. His knot just as alert as he was. 

Morning wood had never been more painful.

It hadn’t taken long for you to go down for the count after the first-aiding was done, no doubt exhausted as well as sore, but he worried about how your body would react when it woke up.

Last he’d seen you walking, your step held a jockeys gait. All movement, purposeful and slow. 

You’d had no issues showering. It had just taken some time. Maybe if he’d helped, things would’ve gone faster, but he didn’t dare offer. Even though his inner alpha wanted him to.  

You’d also had no issue stealing his jacket, having taken it when you thought he wasn’t looking. The washed-denim sleeve poked out, as did your toes next to it. The sight of both bringing out his biggest grin. 

No wonder he couldn’t sleep. It was just a shame he had to confront your mate. 

He wasn’t scared at all. Nope, far from it. He couldn’t wait to punch the fucker’s lights out. But you were still his, and a small fragment of Dean’s mind feared you may choose him, even after the horrible treatment you’d endured at his hands.

With a groan, he leaned over and fished for his phone. It was close enough to six to not be too early for coffee, and he swung his bow legs to the ground, stretching his arms out wide; gaining two large cracks from his neck and shoulders as muscle and bone satisfyingly pulled away from each other. 

He then braced himself to stand with his hands on his thighs, but the sound of blankets shifting and a fresh wave of omega scent laced with undertones of him flew under his nose, stopping him in his tracks. It brought another smile to his face and another rush of blood to his groin.

But he had a job to do. A mission. A quest. And without further ado, he jumped to his feet and shuffled towards the bathroom, keeping his morning wood pointing in a direction he hoped you couldn’t see if you were to rouse. There was no way of hiding it when he was standing.

He was quicker about things behind the closed door. No one could argue Dean Winchester wasn’t a multi-tasker. From brushing his teeth to taking a much needed leak, he accomplished it all under the icy stream he’d chosen to cool himself off with.

Thoughts of you, Ritchie, and what he was going to do plagued him while he washed. They continued to follow him as he dried off, then carefully slunk through the main room to further afield outside, where he found Sam cramped on Baby’s back seat.

The deep brown mop of Sam’s hair rose behind the matte black paint of the Impala’s side, sticking up against the window from the static that came with a cooler morning’s air.  

“Rise and shine, Sammy.” Dean fisted the glass above his brother’s head for added effect. Sam was lucky he hadn’t opened the door on him, because that had crossed his mind. 

He wasn’t that cruel. Mediocre at best.

“I need you awake, man,” his voice hissed through the cracked open window.

“Dean?” Sam’s startled head flayed around the Impala’s cabin.

He stepped back to give his brother space to get out, throwing the room keys at him when he surfaced with no warning. 

Sam’s large hands fumbled as they landed on his chest. The silver tumbling through his knuckles like a creature come alive. “What’s going on?” 

“I need you on babysitting duties.”

“Babysit—Where are you going?” Sam stared at him dumbfounded until Dean flashed his best smirk.

One could say he was being cocky, and maybe he was. But in this instance, he needed all the confidence he could muster.

“To deal with Dick,” he said.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Are we feeling the connection? Do we hate her mate? Did I name him Ritchie just so I could make a tonne of Dick jokes? You bet I did! Have I used it enough? Eh, time will tell, but I sure had fun with the next one!

Chapter 3 - Confronting - 07/03

Inside, Dick’s every movement was under his scrutiny. He wanted him to fuck up. To say or do something stupid. That way, Dean had probable cause. It would make whatever he ended up dishing out sit better on his conscience if he heard Dick admit it himself.

So Dean poked the bear. Outright asking him, “Did she say that while you were raping her?”

“I marked her as mine.”

Those words were Dick’s second mistake. He’d just given Dean the chopping block.

“And I suppose she didn’t ask you to stop when you hit her and tried to scratch my initials out of her skin, either?” Dean’s voice remained void of all emotion, even as the anger bubbled in his gut. If he held a mirror to his soul, Dick’s face would have been its reflection.

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[00valentina-writes00]

Hello! I love reading your posts, I always come in to see if you've posted anything new. ❤

I've been thinking..

Mel Medarda secretly being.. a little obsessed with Reader's butt.. I saw a story about Vi being a girl who likes Reader's ass, and I would love to have a story about Mel who likes Reader's butt 😭

(If you don't feel comfortable, obviously don't write about it, and I apologize if my English is not good, English is not my first language)

♡♥︎ A Little Obsession♥︎♡

Warnings: light humor, Mel being a bit obsessed (in a cute way), slightly suggestive content.

Mel Medarda had always been a woman of control. A leader, a strategist, a mastermind behind the most subtle of moves. Nothing in her life had ever felt out of her hands—until you came into the picture.

From the moment she met you, there was something about the way you carried yourself. The way you spoke, the way you moved. But it wasn’t just the way you captivated everyone with your presence. No, it was something else. Something that Mel had never quite expected to latch onto her attention as it did.

Your ass.

She wasn’t ashamed to admit it. It was hard not to notice when you walked into the room, the way your hips swayed with every step. Your figure, elegant and powerful at the same time, seemed to leave a trail of heat wherever you went.

It was subtle at first, almost an afterthought. But as time went on, it became harder for her to look anywhere else when you were around. Her eyes would wander, drawn to the curve of your hips, the way your clothes hugged your form just right. And it wasn’t just the physical. No, it was how it made her feel—how it made her need.

Mel tried to be discreet about it, of course. She prided herself on being a woman of subtlety, but you knew her better than anyone. You had started to catch on. And one evening, as you two were alone in her private quarters, she knew it was only a matter of time before you’d confront her about it.

It was a simple evening. You were sitting sideways on the couch, Mel beside you, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on the back of your hand. The room was quiet, the soft glow of the candlelight casting shadows on the walls. But you weren’t focused on the peacefulness of the moment. No, you could feel the weight of her gaze on you, and not just on your face this time.

You turned to look at her, catching her eyes quickly flicker away.

“Mel,” you began, your voice light but teasing. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

She raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

You leaned back a little, crossing your arms and letting the smallest of smiles slip onto your lips. “You’ve been staring at my ass for the last fifteen minutes. I think it’s time we have a talk about it.”

For a moment, Mel froze. She stared at you, completely caught off guard. She opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come immediately. Then, she took a deep breath, the corner of her lips curling into a half-smile.

“You caught me,” she admitted softly, her voice almost like a confession. “I do… enjoy looking at you.”

Your grin widened, and you scooted closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Is that all? Just enjoying the view?”

Mel’s gaze dipped, as though she couldn’t help herself. Her eyes trailed down to where the fabric of your clothes stretched over your hips, and she bit her lip. “It’s not just that,” she murmured, her voice low, laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “It’s… more than that.”

You leaned in closer, her breath hitching slightly as you cupped her cheek with one hand. “More, huh?” you teased, your thumb tracing along the edge of her jawline. “Like what?”

She swallowed, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, something a little darker in her expression now. “It’s the way you move. How you walk… how your body just… flows.”

You tilted your head slightly, catching the quiet admission, and the playful spark in your eyes flickered into something deeper. You hadn’t known that Mel was so… affected by you. The realization made your pulse quicken, and you shifted, pressing a little closer.

“I see,” you said, voice laced with humor. “So it’s not just the view, then. You like what it does to you, huh?”

Mel’s face warmed a little, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she closed the distance between you two, her breath hot against your skin. “I think it’s safe to say I have an… appreciation for it,” she whispered, her hands sliding to rest on your hips.

Your lips twitched into a smirk, your fingertips tracing along the side of her neck. “An appreciation?”

She nodded, her hands gently gripping your waist. With a slow, deliberate motion, Mel slid one hand lower, just below your waist, her fingers brushing against the curve of your hips before she gently gripped your ass. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and airy as you glanced down at her hand.

“You really like it, don’t you?” you teased, wiggling a little in her grasp.

She looked up at you, her expression softening. “More than you know,” she admitted, her eyes darkening with desire. “It’s hard to focus on anything else when I’m with you.”

The sudden honesty in her voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at her. There was something endearing about how vulnerable she was being, even if it was just about something like this.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” you teased, running your hands along her arms.

Mel’s lips quirked into a grin. “I’m not embarrassed. Just… captivated.”

You leaned in, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to her lips, a whisper of affection. Her grip tightened on your body as she kissed you back, deeper, with a quiet hunger. You could feel her desire building, but she held back, the restraint only adding to the intensity.

When she finally pulled away, her breath coming fast, her hands didn’t move from your waist. She looked at you with a small, almost shy smile. “You’re driving me insane”

You laughed, brushing a hand through her hair. “I don’t mind.”

Mel seemed to calm down, the tension in her shoulders easing, and she smiled up at you, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “I guess this is just one of the things I love about you.”

“Just one?” you asked with a sly grin.

She chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Oh, there’s plenty more. But we have all the time in the world to explore that.”

You chuckled, leaning in for another kiss, this one slower, more tender, as you both melted into the moment.

Even if Mel had a little obsession with your ass, you could live with it. It was just another thing that made her fall for you more each day.

And, truth be told, you kind of liked it too.

[patchworkideas]

I have a folder named 'Story Ideas' in my home system, for easy access.

In there, I have a folder for each fandom that I write in.

If a Wip stays a one shot or only an idea post it stays in the general fandom folder it belongs to - with AUs and Crossovers in the fandom that uses the characters or has the biggest influence.

If it grows it becomes it's own folder. If I already know the future name at that point it will be named that, otherwise it gets a descriptor that stays even after it has a name. (example: My 'Coming Forth By Day' Story is still in a folder called Subnautica AU in the Yu-Gi-Oh Folder.)

The chapters are neatly named 'Chapter 1' or 'Chapter 1-6' etc, depending on how frantically I was writing. If it got written in one file it stays in one file. (This became more common since I started dictating, where i need to check for dictation errors before I can close a file (to listen to my own voice to check) and often new ideas are howling to be given voice before the check for the prior one is finished.)

Most bigger stories with their own folder also get a subfolder called notes.

That's the danger folder, where the wild things go and nothing is safe or certain. I have doubles, often actually writen or rewritten notes, sometimes removed scenes or whole removed chapters. Notes in order and notes very much not, in whatever order they came to me or I thought they fit best.

The notes folder is the depth of my mind and very often contains a multitude more words than actual make it into the story. (Long Way Around is an extreme example - by the time I had 10k posted, I hit over 100k in notes for everything still to come. Something that has been invaluable for me as I continued writing it these past years. It's been slow going but it's allowed me to keep the plot for these last 3 chapters i still have to write after almost 4 years now. Though there's a lot more to edit and polish before we get close to posting those even once they're finally written, since I hiatused to ensure I don't drop one of the myriads of threads I'm weaving together in the critical third act.)

I love writing, and I lost so much in the chaos of not having it organized in the past. So now it is.

.... Don't look on my PC where I do most of my drafting via dictation though. There's a folder called 'transferred to phone' for everything I already copied over to my phone. My phone has fandom folders but no notes, big stories are only told apart by name + chapter number. I then send the draft from my phone via different email addresses to my tablet, where all the notes and edits etc happen. *That* is where I'm organized in the above fashion.

... There and in a dedicated backup drive where I copy my tablet files to - admittedly not as often as I should. But even if I lose edits someday I at least know that I'll never lose the original draft.

Which makes it much easier to edit without abandon since the original never lost if I fuck something up beyond recognition during editing. Or in case of technical issues, obviously.

Backups are important, doubly so for anything creative.

... And I still manage to lose track of small ideas because each fandom folder usually has a shit ton of those small idea files that never become a full blown story.

And I still very much enjoy reading through those occasionally and enjoying the diamonds in the rough, those I forgot and those I didn't.

I love writing, and I love my stories. <3

Edit: And now, after actually checking, since I didn't want to risk tumblr eating my post, I realize that for some unfathomable reason I forgot to set up the fandom folder system that I have literally been using for over a decade on my tablet - probably because I figured 'I love this new fandom! I'm going to write for nothing else ever again!' when I did it. *sigh* It always feels like that, it never is X-D

So the majority of everything has the fandom name in the title, aka 'Subnautica Yu-Gi-Oh'. The handful that don't I'll need to rename at some point and finally sort everything into folders as it should have been...

And what was i thinking when i wrote my game fandom stories in the gaming folder - which does have the 'fandom/game name' folder system at least! And I usually do back those up too, since my game notes are also fun (and just as long, looking at my +100k Oxygen Not Included notes...). And I suppose some of these are stories to help me remember what happened last...

But they're still stories, and I wonder if I'll remember to check for stories in 'Games' someday 🤔

Sigh. I have a very specific order in my head. It doesn't always make it onto the page. Kinda like in writing. But it's otherwise still as described above and I'm very proud of it.

only sort of related to the wip meme that's going around, i'm curious, now: how do you, personally, organise your wips?

this does not feel like a poll kind of situation—it's a 'just reply or reblog and add to the body of the post' kind of deal. please feel free; i'm genuinely curious.

[scary-grace]

¹¹⁵⁾ “you’re drunk, honey.” for the three word prompts!

Thank you for the prompt! I originally wasn't sure which direction to go with it, but then I had an idea for a follow-up on one of the Valentine's Day prompts, and I kind of ran with it. As usual, if it's not your speed, let me know and I'll come up with a different one! Post-canon, 3k, angst trending fluff. A follow-up to memory garden.

begin again

You never met Shigaraki Tomura, but you bring flowers to his death site every Valentine's Day. This year you bring them on his birthday, too.

“You’re drunk, honey.” The bartender slides your card back across the counter to you, and you look down at it like you’ve never seen it before. Sure, it belongs to you. You remember handing it over and opening a tab – and ordering way too many drinks for your public-servant salary – but it feels like you were watching from the backseat while it happens. A lot of things feel like that lately. “It’s time to head home.”

Your heart sinks. “It’s only nine,” you protest. “I can’t go home.”

“Yes, you can.” The bartender sets down a receipt for you to sign. Her eyes look kind, you think, but she’s not budging. “It’s time for you to go home, because it’s time for me to go home, and the kid who’s coming up next shift isn’t going to cut you off like he’s supposed to.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll tip him and bat your eyes and he’ll do whatever you want,” the bartender says, and sighs. “He’s a real bleeding heart. Can’t resist a pretty girl having a bad night.”

You’re not pretty, and it’s not a bad night. It’s the latest in a month and a half of them, nights where you can’t sleep unless you take sleeping pills and you have nightmares unless you drink. If you’re being rational about it, you can admit that it’s been coming on for a while. But if you’re being honest, you know for a fact that it started on Valentine’s Day this year, when you brought flowers to Shigaraki Tomura’s death site and imagined that you heard his voice.

You don’t know what went wrong with your quirk, but ever since Valentine’s Day and your visit to Japan’s loneliest death site, your ability to cope with the things you see through your quirk has collapsed. Every new death site you walk over triggers more than just a flashback – it cues up every similar vision, a whole flood of last moments that no one was ever meant to see. It’s not just what you see at work. There are death sites all across Japan, and you could wander into one at any moment. Once you do, you can’t avoid seeing it, and once it’s inside your head, it never leaves.

And it all starts and ends with the last few seconds of Shigaraki’s life, something you can never unsee, something you can barely live with when you remember it. Maybe that’s why you’re so fixated on the fool’s hope your mind cooked up the last time you were at the death site. Your wish that it wasn’t too late, your hallucination’s response that it might not be. You’re only so fixated because you’ve convinced yourself that there’s something you can do.

You let the bartender usher you out onto the street, into a cold spring night. “You’ll go home, right?” she says to you. “All the other bartenders on this street are my friends. They’ll tell me if you show up.”

“I’ll go home.” You can’t face dragging yourself into another bar, dealing with another question about why the long face, seeing the wide eyes when you flash your ID and your forensics badge falls out of your wallet, hearing the questions about your job. “You’re right. I’m drunk.”

“That’s the spirit.” The bartender pats you on the shoulder, then flinches. “Honey –”

“What?”

“My quirk –” she starts, but you can stop listening after that. This happens every so often, when you run across somebody with a sensing quirk, and they react to you the way you must react when you step into a death site by accident. “Do you need help?”

“No,” you say. The only thing you can think of that would help is if you didn’t have your quirk anymore, and even though there are legal ways to do it, the government will never sign off. Your quirk makes things easier for them, and that’s what matters. “I just need some sleep.”

Sleep. Right. You’ll go home and try to sleep, and the sleeping pills will kick in just strongly enough to keep you from waking up out of whatever nightmare you have, and then you’ll wake up in the morning and go to work and do it all over again. Why not? You’ve got nothing better to do.

You mess with your phone while you wait for the train, flicking through your messages and apps, looking for something to distract yourself. Something catches in your head every time you swipe through, but it takes you a while to figure out what it is. Today’s date, April 4th. There’s something important about April 4th, isn’t there? It’s an unlucky day for anything, really. An unlucky day for everybody in Japan, you remember everyone saying in the early years, because it’s the day Shigaraki Tomura was born.

It’s his birthday. He was born the same year as you were, so it would be his twenty-ninth. You wonder how many times he ever got a birthday party, or a present, or even somebody to sing him the stupid birthday song. You used to hate people singing the birthday song to you. You’d get all warm and your face would turn red and you’d usually cry. You can’t go to Shigaraki’s death site and sing him the birthday song. But maybe you can do what you did on Valentine’s Day. A few flowers won’t hurt anything.

Finding flowers at 10pm is harder than you thought it would be. Most convenience stores are sold out of what they had, and you’re not bringing him fake flowers. By the time you actually find a bucket of flowers, old and starting to wilt, you’re this close to missing the last train out. You hadn’t thought you were all that drunk, but the more time you spend stumbling around, the more you start feeling the alcohol. It’s a good thing you took the bucket the flowers came in, too. After you’ve dropped them on Shigaraki’s death site, you can use it to throw up in.

You know this won’t fix anything. Shigaraki wouldn’t have wanted flowers to begin with, not on Valentine’s Day or on his birthday, and he’s been dead for eight years. This is for you more than it is for him, just something to do so you don’t feel useless, helpless. But you always feel like that. Red Cap isn’t a heroic quirk, in spite of what the police tell you about how much it helps them. It’ll never save anyone. It only activates in the first place when it’s already too late.

You’re used to the battlefield being empty when you visit, but you’re not used to making your way across it in the dark, and you stumble into death site after death site, reeling from flashback after flashback. Just because Shigaraki’s death was the worst one you’ve ever felt, anywhere, doesn’t mean that the other deaths that happened here weren’t terrible all on their own. By the time you reach Shigaraki’s death site, you’re close to tears, frustrated and embarrassed and shivering in the windy spring night. The sooner you drop the flowers, the sooner you can go home.

But once you’re poised at the edge of Shigaraki’s death site, you find yourself in the same spot as last time – sure you should say something, totally lost for words. For lack of anything better to do, you start dropping flowers, hoping you’ll come up with something. “Happy birthday,” you start, as you scatter anemones, hyacinths, daffodils. “I didn’t remember until late and I had to get flowers at the convenience store. That’s why they’re, uh – like that.”

Wilted. Dying. You glance down at the death site, but the flowers have vanished completely. Have they always done that? You scatter more, watching closely this time as they melt away into the earth. “I haven’t been able to sleep since the last time I came here,” you say. You hear the same thing you always hear in your head: So what? He sounds different in your head than he did out loud. “And maybe I only wish I could save you so I could save myself. But saving you wouldn’t take away what I saw. All the things I’ve seen. So maybe it’s too late for both of us.”

You’re down to the last few flowers. You drop them one at a time. Rain lily, lilac, crocus, all of them vanishing the moment they touch the earth. You wonder what will happen if you touch it, if you’ll vanish, too. Right now, when you’re drunk and exhausted and teetering on the edge of tears, it doesn’t feel like it would be the worst thing in the world.

You set the last flower, a white rose, down on the spot where Shigaraki Tomura died, and it vanishes beneath your fingers – and in the same moment, a hand erupts from beneath the ground and seizes your wrist in an iron grip.

You recoil on instinct, and the hand tightens its hold enough to make your bones creak. Its palm is rough, its fingernails ragged, its index and middle fingers completely gone. You know whose hand this is. Anyone who watched the news or opened a newspaper knows whose hand it is. It’s impossible. You came here and lost your mind completely. You must have, because a man who’s been dead for eight years is holding onto your wrist.

You aren’t vanishing the way the flowers did. He’s not trying to pull you under. His hand is shaking from the force of his grip, but he’s holding on, nothing more. That doesn’t mean you can’t feel it – the strain of another adult’s bodyweight against your arm and wrist, thrashing and straining, twitching in spasms that threaten to dislocate your shoulder. You look at Shigaraki’s fingers, locked around your wrist hard enough to bruise, and see that his fingernails are going blue.

He’s suffocating. He’s alive down there – somehow – and he’s suffocating. Hundreds of questions flood through your mind, questions about how this happened, about why this happened, about whether it’s your fault that the Symbol of Fear has returned. Hundreds of questions, and none of them matter. Drunk and worn through as you are, you know what this comes down to. No one saved Shigaraki Tomura when it mattered. It’s not some lost child down there; it’s a villain, someone who did terrible things, someone who almost broke the country in two. When you said you wished you could save him, you didn’t mean that lost child – you meant the adult, the one who died in hopelessness and loneliness and fury and pain. You said you’d save him. Are you going to?

It’s not a question. You twist your hand in Shigaraki’s grip, wrap your fingers around his wrist in return, and pull with all your strength.

He comes up choking on dirt, struggling to cough around the earth that still encases his chest, and you yank harder, pulling his shoulders free. Shigaraki’s other hand breaks the surface, scrabbling at the dirt – why isn’t he using his quirk? – before pressing flat and pushing downwards. With that, you’re able to free him to his ribcage, to his waist, and Shigaraki coughs, clods of dirt spilling from his dry lips. He’s still coughing as you pull him free the rest of the way. One final heave that almost topples you backwards into another death site, and Shigaraki Tomura is doubled over on his knees in the dirt, taking deep, ragged breaths of air.

He’s shaking. He’s still holding your wrist. His other arm wraps tightly around himself, as if that will help, and when he speaks, his voice rattles. “Cold –”

No kidding. It’s April, the temperatures still drop to freezing overnight, and he’s naked. You pull your hand free of his and start unbuttoning your coat. Some part of you that’s still sane in the face of all of this points out that you’re drunk enough to struggle with regulating your body temperature, that you could freeze yourself, and you ignore it. Shigaraki Tomura startles when you drape your coat around his shoulders. His head snaps up, and his crimson gaze locks onto yours.

You remember the light of madness in his eyes, as visible in a still photo as it was on a live feed. It’s gone. You knew it would be, because it was missing when he died, and if a person’s conscious in their last moments, they’re exposed, missing every mask they’ve worn and every truth they’ve hidden from. You’ve thought, more than once, that you’ve known the dead whose death sites you walked over better than anybody else. You’ve thought about how sick that was. You felt it when you were talking to Spinner, and it made you want to scream.

Shigaraki tries to speak, coughs into his fist and tries again. “You meant it.”

“I – yeah.” You don’t like that you had to think about it. You don’t like what it says about you that you hesitated for even a second. “I don’t understand. How are you – here?”

“I never left,” Shigaraki says, and your stomach lurches. “I don’t know how I’m – back.”

You don’t either. You don’t have a clue. Even the most overpowered awakening of your quirk wouldn’t give you the ability to raise the dead. And it’s not hard to imagine that someone who spent their life in as much misery as Shigaraki did might have mixed feelings about coming back. “Are you mad about it?”

Shigaraki thinks it over. His face is more expressive than you thought it would be, and you see the answer settle into him before he speaks. “No.”

He’s alive, and he’s not mad at you for being somehow involved in bringing him back. Now that you’ve settled that, you have a problem. Or ten problems. Or five million problems, because you didn’t just help resurrect somebody who’s been dead for eight years – you brought back the Symbol of Fear, someone instantly recognizable, somebody whose mere appearance struck terror into people’s hearts. What are you going to do?

A moment later, Shigaraki asks the question himself. “What happens next?”

“Um –” If you’d thought there was any chance you weren’t hallucinating, you’d probably have come up with a plan for what to do next. “How do you feel?”

“Cold,” Shigaraki says. You nod. “Hungry. Thirsty.”

Clothes, then food, then water. Or water, then food. That feels doable, as long as you start with clothes. Where are you going to get clothes for him? It’s not like there’s a convenience store around. For that, you’ll have to get him back to the city, which means you have to get him on the train – how did this even happen? How did you go from leaving flowers for Shigaraki Tomura once a year to literally pulling him out of the ground? This can’t be happening. This is insane.

“Hey,” Shigaraki says, and you snap out of it. “You can go.”

“What?”

“This isn’t what you signed up for. And I can make it on my own.” Shigaraki draws your coat tighter still around his shoulders. “I’ll keep this, though. It’s still warm.”

It’s warm because you were wearing it. Shigaraki’s here because you took his hand. You saved him, sure – for what? It wasn’t just anger and pain you felt when you first crossed Shigaraki’s death site, it was loneliness. Loneliness like you’ve never felt anywhere, from any other flashback, a kind of loneliness that can’t be fixed by giving someone a hand up. Saving someone means more than just helping them up when they fall. It’s about figuring out why they fell down. It’s making sure it doesn’t happen again.

Besides, you can’t just turn a supervillain loose to wander the countryside. You have a responsibility here – to him, to everybody, and to yourself, because for once, it’s not too late. Just this once, you can use the awful things your quirk shows you to do something good. “You can keep the coat,” you say to Shigaraki. “But you’re coming with me.”

You’re unsteady as you get to your feet, but Shigaraki’s worse. You have to catch him to stop him from falling face-first into the dirt, and even once he has his feet under him, he can barely stand. You duck under his arm to support him and he stiffens. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” you say. You sounded way too sincere about it. He’s going to laugh. “If you fall you’ll get mud all over my coat.”

Shigaraki scoffs quietly, his voice still roughened from the dirt. The sooner you find some water for him, the better. He doesn’t try to pull away from you, so you start the long, slow shuffle back across the battlefield. You remember to grab the bucket just in time. It could be evidence, although what it would be evidence of, you have absolutely no idea. No one is going to believe this. You barely believe it, and you watched it happen.

Crossing the field is its usual nightmare, made worse by the fact that Shigaraki’s slowing you down, but unlike when you crossed before, you’re not holding back tears. You’re still drunk. Your head is still full of things you’ll never be able to unsee, and you’ll still have nightmares tonight. The only thing that’s changed is having something you can do. You never realized how much that could matter until now.

“You only come back once a year,” Shigaraki says as the two of you near the edge of the field. “It hasn’t been a year yet.”

“I had to,” you say. “It’s your birthday.”

That doesn’t explain anything. You know what the Shigaraki you always imagined would say to that: So what? The real Shigaraki, the one that’s naked except for your coat and stumbling along at your side, is quiet until you’re at the road, the lights of the train station visible in the distance. “I’ve had worse ones.”

tag list: @f3r4lfr0gg3r @cryptidfuckerofficial @lvtuss @issaortiz @evilcookie5 @deadhands69 @shigarakislaughter @minniessskii

[nikjima]

Bit of a question, if you're open to it. You discovered the Wedding Chapel. What do you guess it was supposed to be used for?

The Chaphael, my font of madness. 😔

Thanks for the ask! It's hard to guess, really, but going over what I know about it:

It has the CTY prefix, not the BGO or GLO prefixes, which is what the rest of the HoH has, so I don't believe it was part of the House of Hope.

Only a small part of it is actually walkable, and parts of the wall are not 'solid', and can be walked through, so from my experience of other scene behaviours It was most likely intended for a cutscene.

The background sound when in the area is also one of the default dungeon environment sounds, not Raphael's theme or any music from the HoH.

It is very incomplete, there are gaps between the wall pieces, the floor is uneven, there are almost no 'triggers' in place, such as those for cameras or lighting, and it's very sparsely decorated, so whatever it was for seems to have been abandoned early, though there is evidence in the game files that suggest it was looked at as late on in development as patch 5.

My delulu theory is, of course, that it was made specifically for the player character to marry Raphael in, after giving him the crown and him making them his consort. I want it to be that so very badly it hurts.

What I think it's more likely to be is either:

a - a spot in the city we could visit to trade with Raphael for rare items using soul coins, as we've been told in the past that Raphael was at one point going to be a trader who we could barter with using soul coins. (as an aside, there's some info in the game files that indicates Raphael would have been able to assist us as a summoned ally, there's a spell named "Diabolical Ally" with the text "Summon the crafty devil Raphael to fight alongside you." The spell summon data contains the UUID for a character that doesn't exist, sadly, so I have no way of knowing what form he would have taken. It isn't set up the way the endgame allies for the final battles are, so maybe it'd have been attached to something you could barter from him? 'Use this ring to call upon my aid once per day' kinda deal. Fun idea) This one is unlikely if it really is a cutscene area, of course, though it could have been a case of 'enter building, cutscene begins, complete trade in cutscene, exit'.

b - a scene where we'd see some kind of cult of Raphael scenario going on, post-epilogue. (Archdevils have cults after all, so surely the Archdevil Supreme would have a real fancy one). Perhaps he chose to desecrate a wedding chapel for his cult base because doing such a thing amused him, all the pomp and ceremony of weddings would obviously appeal to him, and corrupting the location a religious ceremony would be held would be extra delicious. Maybe Hope really liked weddings so it was an extra little 'fuck you' to the cleric who denied him, too. There's an unfinished 'Raphael Punished' area, presumably where we'd witness Mephistopheles eating him, so why not have a counter version for those of us who side with him where we see the fruits of his labour?

c - Raphael actually does take the player character as his consort, binding them to him for eternity as a sort of trophy (I rule the hells and have the Hero of Faerun who slew the Absolute in my retinue, in your face dad, your dragon ain't shit), and being the ostentatious so-and-so he is, decided to have a full ceremony to announce it. It probably lasted 9 days and involved 666 different poems about how great he is. He wrote the vows, and once the player character recites all those infernal words it means they're his possession entirely.

Okay, that last one was veering wildly back into the delulu realm. Let me dream. 🥺

Thank you again for the ask, people rarely ask my thoughts on things, it was fun to go back over the Chapel again. I only spent like 4 hours poring over it this time, not 2 days. Improvement! 🙌

To have and to mould into whatever my heart desires. In your sickness and my health. Not even death shall part us, Little Mouse.

[magicalwitchbread]

Not part of the usual content, I just want to raise awareness about the disgusting thing happening in Greece the past two years.

On Febuary 28th 2023, a crash between two trains happened at Tempi. It was a head-on collision because they had been going on the same rail in opposite directions for 12 whole minutes. Set a timer for 12 minutes and just sit there not knowing you are headed to your death.

57 people lost their life. Most of them college students. Among them were a pregnant woman and her husband heading back to their hometown of Thessaloniki to announce their pregnancy to their parents. They never got there. The last message her mother sent her was "Πάρε με όταν φτάσεις" (Call me when you get home). They will never see each other again.

The only surviving passenger of the first wagon is still in a comma today. Adonis Georgiadis, the minister of labor of the current government, dared suggest that he has been wasting government resources while in the hospital.

The thing is that most of the victims came from the explosion that followed the crash and not the actual collison. But still, two years later, all experts agree that the materials the train had documented carrying were not nearly enough to create an explosion of this magnitude.

Before enough evidence was collected and any type of punishment or responsibility was assigned, the government poured concrete all over the crime scene under the guise of trying to get the county's railroad system back up and running.

This action has hindered the courts attempts to collect evidence to solve the case. But the site was not the only piece of evidence conveniently altered or destroyed. Still, today, the court assigned this case is looking for videos of this God forsaken train that passed through various train stations with fully working security systems, and somehow, none of them have any recordings of it. The only video surfaced just this week, two years later. Voice records from the phones of the victims screaming and crying for help were put into cds, and they were destroyed. They were found in the court's trash can with staplers through them, making them unreadable and thus useless. Even though the county's emergency line was called various times from the site, all the recordings of the calls, that they are obligated to record, but one are somehow nowhere to be found. The specific judge assigned the case lost their child after uncovering a significant piece of evidence that was never released to the public. The parents of the victims have reported attempts to bribe them in order to either drop their charges or delete social media posts and official statements regarding the case.

Apart from the corrupt government destroying evidence because they are trying to cover something up, their statements to the media have been nothing sort of disgusting and dismissive. Specifically, the prime minister of the country, Kiriakos Mitsotakis, said multiple times on multiple news segments that he does not know more about the case than the public and that that's how he believes it should be, in an attempt to avoid questions regarding assigning responsibilities and the accusations that the government is trying to cover something up. The minister of labor disgustingly stated that the lawyer representing the victim's families, a political opponent of theirs, is obsessed with this "accident" being labeled as a crime because if it is, her compensation would skyrocket. What Adonis Georgiadis failed to mention is that she is doing it for free.

Their supporters with any kind of power try to suppress the people protesting as well. This week, attendees at a basketball game chanted about the tragedy, blaming the government. "Γ*μω τον Μιτσοτάκη, γ*μω την πολιτεία, δεν ήτανε ατύχημα ήταν δολοφονία" (F*ck Mitsotakis, f*ck the government, it wasn't an accident it was murder). The players clearly stated that they were not bothered and infact agreed. The referees, on the other hand, stopped the game and refused to continue unless the protesters were evacuated, effectively silencing them.

These sad excuses of human beings are still governing Greece and not serving justice two years later. That's why the Greek people have organized marches on Febuary 28th in every single major city to demand justice. Most schools are being siezed by students for the day. Most working people are going on strike. Most businesses will be closed for the day. All these are happening as the minimal form of respect paid to the victims and to join the marches.

We know they are going to downplay the number of people that join in the marches as they have done in the past. We know that the police will attempt to break it up. We know it is going to be a long way to justice, but we are all willing to fight for it. United under the phrases that have hunted us these past two years. "Δεν έχω οξυγόνο" (I don't have any oxygen). "Πάρε με όταν φτάσεις" (Call me when you get home). "Δεν ήταν ατύχημα ήταν δολοφονία" (It wasn't an accident it was murder).

If you are in Greece, try to join the protests and stay safe. Wear a jacket with hood to protect your skin from any chemicals. Have surgical masks, ideally K-95, and Malox at hand to stay safe from the tear gases. Don't go to the protests alone, and make sure to help people in need if you can. Look out for hostile police officers and, if possible, for kids or teenagers that join because there will be many.

[keyofmgy]

wip wednesday

this is so rough of a draft it's ridiculous, but I'm currently attemtping to temporarily conquer my executive dysfunction demons enough to put some Emmrook smut out into the world. post-Memorial Gardens date with inexperienced Rook and down-horrendously-bad Emmrich. I'm gonna go throw up now

I do ask that you at least avoid putting pressure on that stiff left wrist, Emmrich had said to Rook during their dinner in the Memorial Gardens, and he was thinking about it again now, as he watched her all but limp into the Lighthouse’s dining hall. She’d gone to the Anderfels with Davrin and Harding earlier, to help clear out some of the blight surrounding Lavendel. By the look of her, the work had gone beyond merely destroying boils and tentacles. Something heavy-hitting. Hopefully nothing worse than a particularly large specimen of darkspawn. Hopefully no more than one. But he doubted it. He sincerely doubted it. “Darling,” he said in greeting, setting his teacup down on the dining table. Rook shot him a weary but warm smile – the open affection in it still new enough that the sight shot a tingle of a thrill up Emmrich’s spine – but didn’t break her stride as she headed directly for the pot-bellied stove in the far corner of the room. “Hey, Emmrich. All quiet here?” “Of course.” He kept watching her, mentally cataloguing what he saw: the slumped set of her shoulders, the stiff line of her back, the leg she was resting a disproportionate amount of weight on. Responsibility exacts a toll on the body. “Are you all right?” “Yeah.” There was the sound of metal on stoneware, and hot water being poured over tea leaves. Then Rook turned around to face him, blowing out a long sigh, carefully cradling the twin to his own teacup in her hands. “Just a little sore. We got jumped by some darkspawn – nothing we couldn’t handle, though.” She grinned. “Evka can pull some serious moves with that hammer.” Emmrich instinctively smiled back (how could he not?) though he wasn’t quite feeling it; not only was Rook definitely favoring the one leg, she was also still favoring her left wrist. Even more so than she had been at dinner, in fact. But before he could open his mouth to say anything, she was pushing away from the stove, already on the move again, though she did make a detour to briefly rest her forehead against his. Probably, she was hoping to forestall any protest he might make about her needing to take the time to slow down and rest, and damn if it didn’t work perfectly. In that moment his senses were overwhelmed by the rush prompted by even that barest of physical contact – the hint of warmth where they touched, the tickle of her hair against his skin, the knowledge that if he tilted his face upwards just so he could kiss her (and she would allow it). The almost-sour drop of sensation from his chest to his gut when he made the split-second decision to deny himself that pleasure.  We can move slowly, he’d also said to Rook, and he had meant it. No matter that she made him feel like the absolute worst example of a besotted fool, like a horribly naive schoolboy after the high of a first kiss even: eager yet terrified and clumsy but wanting more all at the same time. No, he was the older, more experienced party in this wholly unexpected relationship, and he had a responsibility to Rook to conduct himself like it. He had to set an example. She deserved nothing less than a gentleman who would respect and cherish her – and if she ever settled for less, later in her life, it would be through no failing of his. (Of course Rook would have more lovers, after him. Emmrich wasn’t so idealistic as to believe himself her one and only. That blush of first love would pass, and she would move on. Surely she would never give any serious thought to binding herself to a middle-aged professor with delusions of grandeur, not when she was still so young. But oh, how he would treasure her while it lasted.) “I know what you’re going to say,” she murmured, and he couldn’t help the small intake of breath at the tenor of her voice. “But I’ve got some letters to write and send off. They can’t wait. I’ll rest soon. I promise.”

[dangraccoon]

Untitled Spreadsheet - PRIVATE

Chapter 2 - Touch

Word Count: 352

Content: Gay disaster Cody, Rex is so over this whole thing

For @literallyjustanerd, based on this post

Mando'a Guide Ori'vod (orivod as Rex typed) - older sibling

Cody’s alarm went off at what could be considered an unholy hour of the night. It didn’t bother him though; in fact, he’d already been awake for nearly an hour with a nervous energy buzzing through his bones. 

He straightened his armor and back and began the walk through the camp to where the General would be for his watch shift. 

It wasn’t exactly customary that a High General (or a Marshal Commander, for that matter) would take regular watch shifts, but General Kenobi had insisted, so Cody added both of their names to the circulation. 

A part of his brain - that Cody swears is purely professional and comes from striving for efficiency and no other reason - longs for a chance to spend a watch shift with the General instead of one of them relieving the other. 

He physically shook the thought off, turning the last corner of the paths through the camp that would bring him face-to-face with his General.

“General Kenobi, sir,” Cody rapped out. “I’m here to relieve you from duty.”

“Hello, Commander,” Kenobi smiled. His expression was warm but tired. The light from the nearby campfire lit his auburn hair, causing it to nearly glow a gloriously vivid red. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Cody didn’t think his body could feel more rigid when he was already at attention. “Sir?”

“At ease, Cody; you know better,” the General chuckled softly. “Thank you for taking my place; it’s been a long night.” 

Suddenly, Cody felt as though his shoulder was on fire, but not unpleasantly. He came to realize it was because the General was touching his shoulder. Time stood still in Cody’s mind. He longed for a way he could return the simple gesture. At the moment, however, the professional part of his brain was more fried than a B1 after a droid popper. 

“Commander, are you alright?” Kenobi’s voice brought him back to the present. 

“Yes, sir,” he blurted. “My apologies, sir.”

“That’s alright,” the General smiled. It was such a lovely smile. “I’ll be heading to my quarters should you need anything.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Rex: so he just touched your shoulder

Cody: Yes.

Rex: orivod really

Cody: It was for quite a long time.

Rex: how long

Cody: Is “not long enough” something I can say?

Rex: do you want me to get echo to read off the regs to you

Rex: because im sure hes more than willing 

Rex: and fives will think its funny

Cody: You can’t tell anyone about this, Rex. 

Rex: relax codes it was a joke

Cody: This is not funny!

Rex: wanna bet

Event: Touched my shoulder for an amount of time that could be perceived as being too long to be professional when I relieved him of his night watch

Rational explanation: General Kenobi was tired or distracted and didn’t realise what he was doing. Alternatively, I myself was distracted by the physical contact and the moment did not last as long as I believed it to

Irrational explanation: He wants to touch me because he’s attracted to me because he has feelings for me

Additional notes: The General’s hair is an especially vivid red when lit by firelight

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Thanks for reading! - River

Untitled Spreadsheet - PRIVATE Master List DangRaccoon Master List Tag List Form Read on AO3

Tags: @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @nomercyforthewarrior @padawancat97 @wishyouthetest @orangez3st @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[magicalgirlmindcrank]

Mindcrank's top 10 Mikus of the first five years

This list runs from the last monday of feb 2019 to to feb '24. Theres a few more done after that date in 24 that are not eligible.

#10 - 7/29/19: 'Aeiou Aeiou'

This was the first Miku we ever made that we were and remain truly proud of. We were still using SAI 1.0 back then, and I don't think we ever figured out how to do any rendering outside of adjusting opacity on the default brush. That we managed to make such a blend of colors and light with such a limitation in knowledge and tools just months after picking up a tablet, really makes this piece impressive to us even now. Even so, this barely cinches a spot almost by power of nostalgia alone.

#9 - 5/30/2022: 'One day I'll get to actually attend a concert'

Funnily enough, this one is based on a concert we did go to. Not a Hatsune Miku concert (though we still have our Miku expo 2020 ticket) but an Aurora one our youngest sister took us to. The singer came on, backlit as seen, and it kinda stuck with me. Really love this one though, the minimalist backlighting just looks great.

#8 - 6/27/2022: I really liked that one AI Greentext @liquidstar posted

While there are parts of this we're a bit questionable on now, namely the face in the final panel and being inspired by an AI greentext in the first place, this Miku holds a v special place in our heart. it's easily our most popular too, notes wise!

#7 - 4/3/2023 'A Trip To The Moon by Hatsune Miku'

This was part inspired by the desire to make a fake album cover, and part by the urban legend that the first manmade object in space was a sewer cover that was launched by a nuclear test. While untrue as the lid would have disintegrated at the speed it was moving well before leaving the atmosphere, it made for some potent imagery. This is one we wish we had even more time with, but as is, just looks fantastic. Every concept we wanted is there and so so good. Should really make a song list for this album.

#6 3/6/2023 'This is how Hatslimey Migoo arrives onstage'

This was part of Migoo March of '23, and we had to fight ourselves from including another piece from from the same month. It's no secret that Hatslimey Migoo is our favorite Miku design we made (sorry Radical Miku) and the whimsy and charm she brings with her is in spades here.

#5 - 7/11/2022 'Miku but it's me my 2009 senior year'

Okay so obviously at this point they're all near and dear to my heart, but this one has something even more special to it. I was such a depressed piece of shit in highschool and it was nice to give our past selves some love. That so many also loved her was genuinely healing in a way.

#4 - 8/1/2022 'Sli-Miku? Slimeku? Hatslimey Miku? Yeah'

Listen we said Hastlimey Migoo was our favorite child, and well, we just couldn't not put her origin image on this list. I mean just look at her! She's adorable! Not to mention how well we did making her look goopy as hell.

Honorable mentions!

(okay look we had to cut this down from 26 images and there still like a dozen more that could have made the shortlist so let us have this)

From 2021! Still perhaps our favorite Radical Miku! Posing and shadows look great still tbh.

Perhaps the Miku with the least amount of love noteswise. From 2023, it just really captures the miserable summer days in my shitty old room. there was no AC and it was triple digits or close to it many, many days. Just looking at it is something bittersweet.

From 2022, we have this vampire miku! Sure some parts are a little off, but the colors and bg just feel so right! So very perfectly part of the mood. Back to the countdown!

#3 9/25/2023 'Patron Saint of Song'

This is the Miku we're perhaps the second most unreasonably proud of on a technical level. Working within the limitations of imitating another style just pulled something out of us ig. We're not even sure what else to say, just look at it! The smooth lines, the way the flatly colored pieces create depth with the curves, the bordering. Easily one of the best pieces we've ever made.

#2 - 2/8/21 'Miku Devours Her Progeny'

This is it. Perhaps the one you expected at No. 1? It has been our favorite for a very long time, and the one we pointed to as such for a while after all. Even after making the piece that now resides at the top slot.

There's just something so absurd about Miku as Saturn, yet something that works to it. She is, after all, the first Vocaloid, and remains the most outwardly popular. A position that naturally calls for the cannibalization of her progeny. Perhaps it's the way it captures the madness and zero sum nature of making art?

No matter how long we look at it, no matter the new flaws we spot in it's construction, it's a piece that as we gaze upon it we only love more.

#1 - 5/22/23 'Trail Cam Footage'

This is a piece that's truly difficult to speak on. Iirc, we had found ourselves short on time, so elected to try a rougher, more impressionist style. Something we could make quickly, as to not miss a Monday and get to bed at a reasonable hour. Taking further inspiration from trail cams and horror, we decided a greyscale would help further eliminate work. No pesky color picking to complicate rendering.

This as made in a single post-work sitting as a result. It has since become our favorite.

It so perfectly captures the feeling of seeing something spooky on a low res camera feed. Just enough details to let your mind fill in the blanks. The short field of view making it all the more intimate. The oppressive darkness all around. This is the only piece we've loved enough to share to other sites we don't post to. Its both our blog background, and our PC wallpaper!

We've often considered revisiting this style, but are afraid we'd never be able to live up to this. Honestly, it feels like it would be redundant. This one piece is already the peak. Not to mention, there's no way to live up to the fact that just days later, actual trail cam footage of two naked witches eating a deer emerged.

Which Miku is your favorite? Did we miss one you love? Let us know!

[taxideermied]

Hi hi! Thanks all for the respectful discussion on this topic. I've enjoyed reading the notes and additions very much. I want to say, though, that this will be the last time I plan on discussing this topic on this post because I'm not particularly interested in full-time discourse on my blog, and also because it's becoming a little unwieldy for me personally to deal with a super long post lol. I am making this last addition for the sake of clarity as to my claims for anyone reading my blog, not to necessarily sway anyone's opinion.

With that said, I think some of my points have been missed/misconstrued.

Firstly, my original post was about mindful messaging more than anything. Mainly: if you have an issue with something in the community, don't swing a wide net because you risk hurting those adjecent to your problem. That physical nonhumanity was involved was tangential, but nonetheless that's where we went.

So, secondly, and I hope this is clear, I am not advocating for an anti-science approach to nonhumanity, nor am I advocating for blind faith. I specifically avoided the subject outside of my original post where I said the community at large discusses scientifically unverifiable experiences. I think we are all in agreement that self-perception such as Sundragon's "I feel like a dragon" is not scientifically verifiable, but is still "valid" in this space, so I don't feel the need to elaborate on that point.

Where I think my statements are unclear (and for the record, this is on me for not being as specific as I could have been) is in the issue of claim vs expression of personal experience. I think this in conjunction with "subjective verses objective experience" is a little bit difficult to parse so bare with me.

My sense of the community is that those who experience and discuss physical shifts do so because it is an expression of personal experience, not because it is a claim. This is a part of their nonhumanity for whatever reason they may have. It is not a claim because I have not seen anyone trying to prove their experience to anyone else, merely discuss it and relate to like-minded individuals. This does not mean you don't have to be skeptical, but I do not believe your disbelief means that these members of our community should self-censor or be subject to demands for proof. Someone talking about something they feel on a personal blog is not the same as them putting a thought into the "marketplace of ideas" to be debated and verified. While I don't think anyone in this thread did so directly, I feel like the line of thinking suggested here could encourage "proof demanding" behavior.

So what about the tricky subjective vs objective experience issue? Surely physical shapeshifting is an objective experience. Well, again, I think there's nuance here. Is the shifter in question insisting that the transformation is 100% verifiably happening in the reality experienced by others, so much so it could be captured on camera if only one worked properly in the moment? Or are they asserting that they perceive their own physical shifts? All objective experiences are filtered through a subjective lens because you are a brain that perceives the world through sensory organs. You are not experiencing a 1:1 recreation of the world. As a friend eloquently put it: "None of us experience reality-as-it-is. All of us, even people who don't know what a therian is, have some level of disconnect with objective reality. Our experience of the world is imperfect; talking about those experiences is not a claim about shared-truth, it's a claim about personal-truth." See: the parable of blind men touching an elephant. One person's experience of objective truth is not the disproving of another's, even if it conflicts.

Finally, there's the synthesis of these issues regarding how we shepherd the community from within.

If your issues with physical shifters is with those who claim to shift verifiably in a collective reality and claim this is something that can be taught or who otherwise encourage cult-like mentalities, then vis a vis my first point, say that those are the individuals and/or paradigms you take issue with. Nothing wrong with pointing out harmful practices, but lumping harmful ones in with harmless ones is irresponsible.

If your issues are with all physical nonhumans or those who discuss scientifically unverifiable personal objective experiences in a way that harms no one, then I would suggest, I guess, in the kindest terms, to get over it. What is the other option? As far as I can tell, censorship or other methods of driving these individuals out of the community, and I personally don't feel comfortable taking that route. I don't think we as a community would be better off in doing so.

Okay. I think that is everything. Thank you for bearing with me if you read all this, I appreciate it very much! If anyone is still interested in talking this over with me, shoot me an ask and I'll (maybe) respond. Like I said, not trying to be a discourse blog, so I can only do so much.

If you’re going to assert science in a community full of people discussing their scientifically unverifiable experiences I think you should consider what you’re really trying to say. If you’re not trying to call people liars then there’s probably a better way to go about making your point than enumerating the reasons why you think they’re lying.

[moonpie2405]

Sorcerers and Primogeniture in The World of Ancient Magus Bride

Primogeniture is essentially the firstborn child's right to inherit.

This post began with me thinking about how Rian's mother Jade is heavily implied to be pregnant in the recent chapters: Rian, an only child who has loudly and repeatedly declared his desire to not join the family business or inherit his place as its head, and is adamant about learning magecraft instead. It's not that far-fetched to believe that the new child is meant to replace Rian, though whether it is because of kindness or disappointment towards him is up to debate.

That's when I realised that pretty much every major firstborn character in the College arc, especially from the younger generations, is in a sense 'failing' at what is demanded of the position, in one way or the other.

Let's get started with the rest of them, shall we?

1. Violet St George

Outright calls Jasmine the heir instead of him. Him wearing women's clothing is not something that is approved by their house, nor is him remaining unbothered by their criticisms. The elders seem to be prioritising shaping Jasmine for the role as his replacement. He also isn't as bothered by the house's issues as much as Jasmine is, repeatedly proposing that they should run away and become magi instead (in a chapter called 'Better bend than break', too, like???). Though he acts like he is joking, we don't know how serious he is about this.

2. Seth Noel

He was born with no talent for sorcery or the family trade, and was kicked out of his home with nothing to his name. Hell, even his last name was changed, and he was asked to never reveal his ties to the Websters and bring shame to their name, like what? Lucy was literally born as his replacement (parallels to what's happening in the Scrimgeour house 🤨?)

3. Adam Sargant

Ran away from home. He literally chose to die rather than return to his position in the family regardless of how good he was at it, that's how miserable he was in that place (not that it is surprising, with Lizbeth Sargant as his mother). Along this line, we also have:

4. Philomela Sargant

Let's be honest. Philomela was always set up to fail in the Sargant house, and would have never been in a position to actually inherit the title of family head: in the beginning she was raised by her parents with love and kept far away from the world of sorcery, and later under her grandmother's "care", she was only ever a scapegoat and a begrudging obligation at first, and then a sacrificial pawn in Lizbeth's plans. Heir in name only, there was literally no place for her in that house.

5. Torrey Innis

Changed his name, and even continents, to avoid his role as the heir. Would literally move halfway across the world than inherit the family business, much to Narciss's frustration.

6. Mikhail Renfred*

Did not even want to become a sorcerer, whatever happened with his father is what forced him into this path. I don't know what the family's exact duties are, but given his drunk ramblings, Renfred himself does seem to feel inadequate in his capability as a sorcerer.

7. Adolf Stroud**

Failed to follow the family profession of becoming a doctor. He seems to have had poor grades as a child, and later on he left home altogether. This might not seem terribly important, but I think that this directly fed into him feeling like he has failed Lindel.

The law of primogeniture constantly being subverted in the manga is just one of the examples of how the current generation is creating ripples of change, both within the rigid structures of the sorcerers and the world of Ancient Magus Bride itself as a whole.

*Okay, I don't actually have any confirmation about Renfred being a firstborn, but c'mon. Just look at him, he's literally the most only child ever. Can you blame me for the assumption? Welcome to the list, Renfred.

**Another exception, seeing that Adolf does not come from a sorcerer family at all. But he has firmly rooted himself in their world (Lindel's words, not mine), so I'm counting him too.

(If you've managed to make it to the end of this, thank you for reading my ramblings!)