#if this gets out fanfic

[zaachknight]

no ones really seeing my posts rn so I'm just gonna spit this into the void: I've been avoiding writing blood stained tears, not because I don't like it, but because I write the harm scenes from personal experience.

thankfully I haven't been harming for a while (5 months) and every single time I try to write some b.s.t I get kinda triggered lmao... although it's not lmao when I'm feeling like that

I will write it again but it's gonna take some time cause I fear I might kms x

[sevikasupremacy]

I can’t be having unholy thoughts rn

[waywardstation]

Look for anything (or anyone) that could be familiar

For part two:

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🔼 for Ingo to find Emmet

🔽 for Emmet to find Ingo

[ryemiffie]

Guys.. Stan canonically writes fanfiction, presumably posting it to ao3.. I bet that man has got the ultimate author's curse notes

"Sorry I'm late to update guys! Got arrested by the federal government for stealing materials from them to rebuild an interdimensional portal to save my long lost twin brother! But hopefully things will be more consistent now that I'm done saving him!"

"My bad for this being so rushed, currently living through the literal apacolypse!"

"Didn't mean for this too take so long y'all, had to reread the whole fic to refresh my memory after getting my brain wiped to kill the demon who used to date my brother, y'all know how it is!"

[shouyuus]

18+, pitfighter!vi brainrot, bc its girl-dinner time tw: sorta smut, sorta obsessive!vi, codependent relationship, not quite yandere but the vibes r kinda there, but still fluffy bc im me duh

pitfighter!vi who fucks you like she's trying to leave a part of herself inside you, who holds you so hard that the next morning, you wake up to the blue-tinted ghosts of her fingers along your hips and thighs, the dull blossoming bruises littering your neck and shoulders, rings in the shape of her teeth like strange, demented flowers (or perhaps like footprints) the way they trail along your skin, inked there for all to see.

pitfighter!vi who fights like she's trying to break everyone else in the same way she wishes she were broken herself, all fevered, focused rage, and none of the restraint. no patience, only the blunted sting of a punch well-aimed, an elbow to the ribs, a knee to the groin, spit trailing out the edge of her mouth, a grin crooked and bloody hinged between her lips bc she knows when she looks up and scans the crowd, she'll inevitably find you there, watching her with your wide, alluring eyes.

pitfighter!vi who thinks she knows the depths and widths of hunger, has seen and felt it all, growing up in the lanes, and there are so many different kinds, aren't there? the kind that aches dull and deep in the stomach, the kind that claws and roars open in her chest, the kind that tingles like spider-poison all along the length of her spine. still, she's never quite felt a hunger like this -- the kind that threatens to consume her from the inside out the first time she sees you, and at first, it might've been a wholly vindictive thing -- perhaps its because there'd been something in the shadow of your smile that reminds her of -- well, it doesn't matter.

but the first time she kisses you (in the crush of bodies on a crowded dance floor, the music too loud, the bottom of her boots tacky with spilled drinks and blood and whatever else), you'd run your thumb along the line of her jaw so gently, traced the lines of her face with a touch so soft it ran a fissure through her car-alarm heart, and when she'd pulled away, you'd smiled as if she'd given you something other than just the jagged, broken bits of herself.

later, you'd told her that you still appreciated it then. bc it looked like that was all she could afford to give; and she gave it to you anyway.

pitfighter!vi who does not think she will ever get enough of you, and still, the more she gets, the more you give, the deeper the hunger grows. it yawns open inside her, huge and dark and cavernous, carving into her the more that it's fed, and by the gods do you feed it -- the way your head tilts back to allow her access to the smooth expanses of your throat, the darling, moon-lit landscape of your bare chest and shoulders, the way you're so pliant beneath her, your trust pouring from you like drink. and she drinks. and drinks. and drinks.

drinks till she's head-dizzy and heart-full. drinks till her vision blurs but for the sight of you, the shape of you so familiar to her waking moments it does not shock her in the least the first time she wakes up in the morning to the after-images of you in her dreams.

pitfighter!vi who, for the first time in her life thought she had lost all direction, but now -- she feels like at least there's still someone worth protecting, worth fighting for. and she knows, she knows it's not entirely healthy, how much and how hard she falls for you, knows that perhaps it is not the best thing for a woman like her to make someone like you the still-point of her turning universe, you, who manages to shine despite the grime that collects in the city around you. you, who is softness made into an act of defiance, who, one night, curled against her side, told her that there's a certain vindication to smiling in the face of a world who would love nothing more than to rip the joy, bleeding and raw from your throat.

"it's not always easy... actually," you laugh, the sound sweet as spring water as it trickles over her skin, "it's really fucking hard but... why not do it anyway?"

"what, be happy?" her own voice is low and cracked from the fight earlier that night. but you'd kissed a line down her throat and told her that you loved it when she moaned.

"yeah. if the whole world wants us sad and angry... what bigger fuck you is there than to be... happy?"

pitfighter!vi who lets you draw the dark lines down her cheeks, but they're neater than she'd done them herself, who kisses your fingertips when they're stained with the black of her hair-dye, who laughs fully for the first time in... she doesn't even remember how long, when you lean forward and trace a tiny mustache with the leftover ink on your fingers right over her mouth. who sinks into the sound of your laughter like a warm bath, letting it soak into her sore muscles, unspool the tension coiled in her shoulders, the rictus threatening to settle in the set of her knuckles.

she lets you sooth over the harms and hurts that had followed behind her, nipping at her heels like disobedient dogs her whole life, lets you kiss her brows and pull her behind you as you point at the new graffiti art that wasn't there the week before.

pitfighter!vi who has always had a fierce love for zaun because it's her home, but has never stopped to consider just how beautiful of a place it is until she meets you -- and it is beautiful, an angry, pulsing, rebellious beauty, raw and dripping with shimmer-soaked ichor. a beauty carved of disparate limbs and desperate parts, one that is hard-earned and well-fought, the same beauty found in the darkest hours of night, right before the morning dawns, the same beauty she finds reflected back at her when she sees her blurred reflection in a pool of spilt blood on the fighting pit's arena floor.

zaun hums to the tune of debauchery, and for the first time, she's with someone who allows her to be greedy, allows her the breadth and width of wanting so freely. and she thinks it might be spiraling into a full-blown obsession, the way she can't go three seconds without thinking about you, wondering where you are, what you're doing, what you're up to. and you always tell her, tell her about the flowers you saw growing from a crack in the sidewalk, the shaft of sunlight hitting a shard of broken glass in just the right way, how sometimes if you close your eyes and listen, the ticking and clicking noises that run like a baseline thrum through the entire city almost sounds like birdsong.

pitfighter!vi who can't say she's ever fallen properly in love (she thinks that perhaps, once, she got real close), but wonders if this is what it feels like, to feel the void of your physical absence like the itch of a phantom limb, so she does everything she can to keep you close, glares at people if their eyes linger too long on you as the pair of you walk down the street, doubles down on her training regime so that she can fend of anyone who even breathes wrong in your direction.

who can't help pouting every time you pull away to do anything -- to grab another bag of snacks, to ask the bartender for another drink, to listen to something loris is saying -- she has to tamp down the urge to pull you back, to meld you to her side and never let go.

pitfighter!vi who starts to get more strategic with her fights, who saves up money now bc she wants to take you out to dinner, or just buy you nice things once in a while. who spends way too many hexes and cogs on a bouquet of fresh flowers, ones that aren't tainted or bred with the faint, sickly shine of shimmer, and she thinks its all worth it to watch the smile break across your face like dawn over a brand new day -- brilliant, blinding.

she blinks, watching with a fond smile as you fuss over the flowers in your tiny apartment, the space small but cozy, everything neat and in its place. you put the flowers into a tall, slightly chipped glass mug and set them by the window, admiring them from this angle, then that.

"y'like them, angel?"

you nod, grinning as you throw your arms around her, "i love them, vi! i love them so much!"

"good. i'm glad you like 'em. just..." her voice trails off; you cock your head.

"just, what?"

she shrugs, "ah -- just, i always thought it was sad getting flowers cause... they'll wilt someday, right?"

but when she looks back at you, still caught up in her arms, you're still smiling. and there's a fox-fire glint in your eyes that makes something in her stomach twist hot.

"well, there's one kind of flower that won't wilt that i wouldn't mind having here all the time..."

vi blinks, a dry heat creeping up the back of her throat, her heart a wild, fluttering thing caught beneath her cage of ribs.

"yeah?" her voice is hoarse as she swallows around the hope pooling on her tongue like blood. "and what kinda flower is that?"

you lean in, your breath a whisper along her parted lips.

"violets."

pitfighter!vi who moves in three days later, with nothing but some old clothes and her punching bag, which you'd already made room for (somehow) hung up from one of the high rafters in the kitchen, next to the tiny dining table tucked into the corner. who spends the next three days fucking you on every available surface (and some unavailable ones, like against the fridge for instance), telling you that it's only right to christen things now that you're officially living together.

who doesn't bother to wonder if things are moving too fast, and dives in head first because that's the only ways she's ever known to how to do things. who thinks, blithely to herself one night, the warm shape of you curled next to her, sleeping so soundly it almost breaks her heart, that you're probably the first good thing she's ever gotten stuck on -- and she's gotten stuck on a lot of things (fighting, boxing, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the world-ending sorrow of losing it all). its one of the things vander had always warned her about.

"you get into things too hard, kiddo -- gotta learn to pace yourself."

but she doesn't care, because hard's what she was raised on, and it's how she plans on loving you, god, if it's the last thing she does, right or wrong, so be it.

pitfighter!vi who still has her bad nights, still drinks a bit too much sometimes, but at least you're always there to keep her from going too far. and you're the only one who can pull her back, the only one she'll listen to when you tug the drink away from her hands and slide it down the bar towards loris, who'll eye it for a second before downing it and settling up the tab, nodding towards you even as you sling an arm around vi's middle to lead her out of the bar.

who still wakes up screaming some nights, her eyes wide and unseeing, scrabbling at you, tugging you into her if only to bury her face in your shoulder, her whole body wracked with dry-heaving sobs.

"my sister used to think there were monsters under the bed, and make me check down there every night before going to bed," she murmurs, her face inches from yours, her words soft and ever so slightly slurred.

you brush your fingers against her cheek, a comforting, repetative motion -- back and forth, back and forth, till her lashes flutter shut.

"guess she was right... but the monsters never wanna stay under the bed, do they? it's like they always... wanna come out and play..."

you let out a breathy laugh, "or maybe," you offer, your voice low and soothing, "they're just as scared as you are. and they're just looking for someone to scare their own monsters away."

pitfighter!vi who is still not good at slow, but sometimes, when she kisses you, she wishes that had the power to hit pause on time, just so she could stretch out the moment and kiss you forever. she thinks that she'll never be good at patience, but sometimes, when you tell her just gimme a sec! when she's waiting for you to get ready before going out to dinner at jericho's or just for a round of drinks at the bar round the corner, her leaning against the doorway watching as you put the finishing touches of your makeup on yourself in the kitchen mirror -- she thinks she'd give you every last second of the rest of her life if you ever asked her to.

pitfighter!vi who, recently, has really, really started hoping that someday soon, you'll actually ask her to.

taglist: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent - join the taglist

[carolinanadeau]

"this female character is underdeveloped" TO YOU. I can read subtext and I know all about her backstory and her rich inner life. also she told me personally

[blackynsupremacy]

idgaf about what’s canon, if you want to romantically write them to be with a black girl, do it!

[starmocha]

Hide-and-Seek [Sylus + Daughter ★ 1247 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus shows his daughter a fun trick. A/N: Hi, hi, I’m going to try to work on the LNDS men + their kids series again. (the plushie trend going around is giving me baby fever again :’))

“…Daddy…Daddy…”

Sylus groaned softly as he woke up, hearing a tiny voice just outside his bedroom calling for him. He blinked his bleary eyes, looking at the clock. It was almost nine in the morning, but for the Onychinus leader who followed a nocturnal schedule, that meant that he had not slept for too long. He could hear the voice outside his bedroom door getting louder, hearing a little girl crying, and he instantly recognized who it was. He immediately bolted up and gotten out of bed, racing to the door in a flash.

He opened the door, his eyes softened as he saw his little girl sitting there holding tightly a Grumpy Crow plushie and wiping her eyes as she cried softly, “…Daddy…Daddy…”

He immediately scooped her into his arms, smiling softly as she buried her face into his neck, crying harder as she clung to him. He rubbed her small back and shushed her gently. “Baby, why are you sitting there crying? What happened?”

The little toddler sniffled. “I can’t find Lukey…and Kier-Kier…”

Sylus raised his brow in confusion. “What do you mean? Are they not watching you?”

Sylus closed his bedroom door and walked over to his bed, sitting down and setting his daughter on his lap. He wiped at her eyes and shushed her softly again. “What do you mean you can’t find Luke and Kieran?”

The girl continued to sniffle, wiping at her runny nose furiously. She hugged her plushie tighter. “We’re playing hide-and-seek…”

Sylus immediately understood.

“I can’t find Lukey and Kier-Kier…and…I got scared…”

“Oh, baby.” Sylus immediately held his daughter closer to him. “Do you want Daddy to help you find them?”

The girl looked at her father confused. She sniffed.

Sylus smirked. “Daddy has a fun trick. Do you want to try it?”

Forgetting her tears, the girl nodded excitedly.

“Alright, hold onto me tightly now, my little birdie.”

Dropping the crow plushie, the girl wrapped her little arms tightly around her father’s neck again, and then within a flash, Sylus used his Evol, disappearing from the room, leaving behind only a faint mist of energy.

In the next instance, he reappeared in the hallway, his daughter’s giggles resounding loudly down the long, empty corridors. He shifted her in his arms and they both looked around. “Not here,” Sylus mumbled thoughtfully, hearing his daughter echoed his words. He smiled and tickled her, hearing her delightful laughter again. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. He just wanted to greedily pocket all of her laughter and smiles for himself.

He kissed her forehead. “Alright, where should we try next, baby?”

The girl hummed thoughtfully. “Kitchen?”

Sylus nodded. “Alright, kitchen it is,” he said, and they both vanished in another mist.

A moment later, the father-daughter duo reappeared in the kitchen. Sylus could faintly hear an unfamiliar noise nearby. He motioned for his daughter to be silent and she obediently covered her mouth with her two little hands. Sylus had to refrain from laughing at her adorable behavior. He whispered softly so only she could hear him, “Let’s try the pantry, baby.”

The girl nodded and clung to her father as they teleported from the kitchen to inside the pantry. A moment later, Luke let out a scream.

“That’s not fair, Little Miss!”

The girl giggled. “Lukey!” She held her arms out for the younger man and Sylus let her jumped over to Luke’s arms.

“Jeez, I didn’t think you would join in on the fun, Boss.”

“I didn’t think you two would let my daughter cry alone in the hallway.”

Even though Luke was wearing his mask, his demeanor changed the moment he heard Sylus’ words. He looked down at the little girl in his arms and apologized to her. “I’m sorry, Little Miss, were you scared?”

“A little…”

“Kieran and I will do better next time,” he promised. He smiled when the girl wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled closer.

“Ah—Lukey, cookie!”

The two men watched the girl, confused. They followed her hand motion and looked at the shelf behind Luke to see a jar of white and pink-frosted animal-shaped cookies with little pastel-colored nonpareils sprinkles.

“Boss?”

Sylus crossed his arms over his chest and smirked, amused when his daughter turned and gave him her large, pleading puppy dog eyes. “Alright, just a few,” he said as he walked over and grabbed the jar on the shelf. He opened the jar and held it out to his daughter, watching with a smile as she happily and greedily grabbed as many as her little hands could hold. He lowered his voice and kissed her forehead as he spoke, “We won’t tell Mommy.”

He laughed when she held out a tiger-shaped cookie for him. He opened his mouth and let her feed him the cookie. It tasted sweeter than normal, Sylus thought, smiling as his daughter turned and held up a giraffe-shaped cookie for Luke, pushing up his mask enough to feed him.

“Well, thank you, Little Miss,” Luke responded, chewing his cookie.

“This one is for Kier-Kier,” the girl said, holding up an elephant-shaped cookie. She looked at her father with a pout, “Daddy…can we go look for Kier-Kier?”

“Of course, baby,” Sylus said as he took her back from Luke.

“Try the foyer,” Luke suggested, and Sylus nodded before disappearing once more.

In the next instance, Kieran’s scream could also be heard within the base.

“B-Boss?! Little Miss?”

“Kier-Kier!”

Kieran instantly caught the little girl that jumped over to him. He appeared surprised when he saw her holding something in her hand to him. “What’s this, Little Miss?”

“Cookie!”

Kieran seemed to smile under his mask as he took the cookie from the little girl. “For me? Little Miss is the sweetest,” he said as he lifted his own mask enough to eat the offered confection. “Yummy.”

“Alright, baby,” Sylus said, walking over and patting his daughter’s head, “It looks like you won this game of hide-and-seek.”

The girl giggled, looking shy. “Daddy helped…”

“Little Miss knows how to use her resources,” Kieran quipped.

“Smart little birdie,” Luke’s voice joined in as he walked into the foyer, clapping in approval.

The girl seemed to blush from embarrassment at hearing all of these proud praises. Suddenly, everyone heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching from outside. Sylus smirked as he reached over for his daughter again.

“Oh? Is that Mommy?”

The girl nodded excitedly, recognizing the sound of her mother’s motorcycle. “Mommy’s home!”

“She’s very early today,” Sylus quipped. He whispered to his daughter mischievously, “We should go greet her.”

The girl clung tightly to her father again, her own mischievous smile identical to his as they disappeared from the foyer.

A moment later, a third scream was heard at Onychinus base that morning.

“Sylus!”

With a laugh and as dark feathers drifted all around, Sylus gathered the two most precious girls in his life into his arms, mumbling softly into his wife’s ear, “Welcome home, sweetie.”

“Welcome home, Mommy,” the little girl piped up, mimicking her father’s tone. She snuggled in her parents’ embrace before pulling out a cookie to Sylus’ uneasiness.

“Lion for Mommy!”

“Baby, where did you—Sylus, it’s only ten in the morning!”

“Come on, baby, let’s leave. Mommy is baring her fangs at Daddy.”

With that, Sylus disappeared again in another mist, leaving his wife yelling after him in the courtyard as their daughter giggled and snuggled closer to him.

[tarabyte3]

Hey fanfiction writers: If no one's ever told you this before, it's not just fanfiction.

It's something you spent hours, days, maybe even months on, pouring your heart out onto a page because you were so full of passion and thoughts about a story or characters, you felt like you were going to explode if you didn't get it out. Maybe you lost sleep because your mind was racing with ideas or you forgot to eat or drink water because you were so focused. Maybe your back aches from being hunched over for so long, unmoving. Maybe you even felt like you were going a little feral because you were so excited about what you were creating, or were frustrated when you got stuck. Either way, you put your heart, mind, soul, and body into making something.

It's okay to want people to read it, and it's okay if you're disappointed that they don't or it doesn't get as much of a reaction as you were hoping for. Humans are social creatures. Sure, we write for ourselves, but we also share because the joy of doing so is just as powerful as the joy of the process. Of having created something.

We all experience that joy and that disappointment, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

So it's okay. It's not just fanfiction.

[justaz]

merlin gets sick. like. bad sick. maybe its a curse maybe its natural idk all i know is that merlin gets sick. he has a fever so high he is somewhat delirious. his whole body hurts. he feels like death. he ends up traversing the castle to enter arthur’s chambers and climbs into bed next to him. he was in pain and felt like shit and in his delirious state, he went to the one person who could always offer him comfort. arthur wakes to find merlin curled up next to him, his tunic fisted tightly in his hand as if to keep arthur where he was. gaius quietly walks in and extracts merlin from the bed, apologizing and explaining that merlin was ill and delirious with the fever. merlin is being tugged out of bed, away from arthur.

he’s fighting as best he can which, considering he’s sick, isn’t that good as gaius doesn’t even blink. then merlin is being dragged across the room, away from arthur and his body heat which was chasing away the chills and his touch was easing his pain. merlin starts complaining, whining more like, about how he wants arthur. gaius apologizes again and says he’ll send for a replacement to serve him before finally getting merlin out of arthur’s chambers and back to his own bed. gaius steps out for an hour to retrieve herbs from the town and returns to finds arthur curled around merlin in his little cot in his room, merlin fisting arthur’s tunic and arthur’s hand rubbing up and down merlin’s back.

[lichanicksstuff]

Professor Gadling always knows which student wrote their paper and which one used chat GPT. Nobody knows how he does it. No paraphrasing program can dupe him. He can always tell. Every one of his colleagues is amazed by this skill, they always ask for his help judging if the essay was written by an AI or a person. And he does that with a wide smile on his face.

It's really easy. All it takes is to give his old friend a good cup of tea and a red pen to mark the ones that were not written by a human hand. "The imitations don't have souls," his friend says. And this is what he tells his students. They never understand and Hob finds it very funny.

[zaachknight]

GUYS LOOK I FINISHED SOMETHINF pls read I am really really tired rn

[ireallyneedaintrestinglife]

Merlins magic doing what it can to make Arthur's life easier and provide comfort in any way it can.

Merlins magic making Arthur's bed softer and warmer in the winter.

Merlins magic making the candles burn brighter and last longer when his king needs to pass laws and work on documents.

Merlins magic making Arthurs clothes retain their color longer and tear less easily.

Merlins magic making his armor be stronger and more durable, unconsciously weaving protection spells into the metal.

Merlins magic making sure the sun doesn't get in his kings eyes and distract him when he's fighting enemies that wish to end his life.

Merlins magic making his Kings wine taste better and food last longer keeping it warm while he does other things.

Merlins magic making it harder for his king to be killed, turning the path to his kings chambers into a maze-like structure that makes it impossible for the assassin to get to his chamber or delay them long enough for someone to stop them.

Merlins magic.

[youreyeson1y]

˗ˏˋ fuzzy ‎ socks and ‎ ‎ ‎ warm ‎ ‎covers ‎ ‎✶ˎˊ˗

pairing: bang chan x gn! reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw: tooth rotting domestic fluff, est. relationship + try not to cringe because love is ew :(‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ note: is this all because of the selcas chan shared? yes, yes it is. (also wanted to post something before I go on hiatus cause of exams lol) ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ word count: ‎ ‎0.96k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ enjoy ! ‎ ‎ bang chan masterlist.

snuggled under three layers of blankets on the couch, you felt perfectly content.

your hands absentmindedly fiddled with the empty cup in your lap, the faint warmth from your drink still clinging to it. a quiet smile played on your lips face as you watched chan throw his hands up dramatically, fully immersed in the story.

“and the host was so shocked when hyunjin started doing that move in the middle of the stage, because who knew there’s another song called sticky?”

“wait,” you cackled, already excited for the clips to emerge. “so you’re telling me that he danced to kiss of life’s sticky in the reality show? damn, can’t believe i missed that.”

chan laughs, the sound filling the room with warmth. a movie was playing on the tv, but you found your boyfriend’s endless stories more entertaining.

sitting on the plush carpet in front of you, chan was wearing a black tank top and grey sweatpants, while you had more layers on than you could count. the room became quiet for a moment, but the hairs on your arms stood up as you saw a mischievous smirk appear on chan’s face.

“no, nope,” you warned him as he stood up, a playful sparkle in his eyes, and you instinctively pull the blankets tighter around yourself. “don’t you dare, christopher bahng.”

“don’t be so mean, ” he pouts, his knees on either side of yours. “do you want your boyfriend to freeze to death out here?”

“well, there’s always the option for sweaters and jackets… or even a tshirt;” you mumble, your face growing red as your boyfriend’s nose touches yours, a soft smile playing on his lips.

he gently takes the cup from your hands and places it on the centre table without breaking eye contact, putting you in a trance. as you let your guard down and lean in for a gentle kiss, you jump in your seat with a yelp as his freezing fingers touches your waist under the covers.

the cold sensation sends chills down your spine as you shiver, goosebumps covering your body.

“christopher,” you whine, finally giving a reaction as he melts into your body. “i hate you.” you shiver as he wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in a chilly but warm embrace as he settles under the covers.

despite yourself, you lean into his embrace instinctively.

“i love you too,” he giggles, dimples on full display, as he hugs you tighter. “and why would i need a sweater when i have you to warm me up just as fine?”

you blush, whatever resolve you had melting away.

“whatever,” chan chuckled as he saw you half heartedly roll your eyes. “i’m wearing the socks you gave me, so i guess you might as well warm up your toes too.” you looked at anything but him in an attempt to appear nonchalant.

his laugh made you feel warmer than the blankets ever could.

chan shifted, tucking himself into your side as you both shifted into a more comfortable position. his legs intertwined with yours, rubbing over your fuzzy socks. his arms wrapped around your waist, adding a comforting weight.

the room grew silent, the only sound being your steady breathing and the soft voice coming from the television.

“oy,” you nudge him after making sure he wasn't asleep. “what happens next?”

“huh? next to what?”

“i dunno. i just want to hear you yap.”

the way chan’s face immediately became red was almost comical. he tried hiding his face in the crook of your neck, making him seem more adorable.

“stop…” he whined, his demeanor changing from his usual cool charm to a fumbling mess.

“what? i just love listening to my boyfriend yap, is that a crime?”

“i mean,” his voice came out small. “i’ve been boring you with my stories all evening today. aren't you sick of hearing my voice already?”

he tried to laugh it off, but let out a shriek as you playfully swatted his arm.

“hey!” you pinched his arm for extra emphasis. “don't ever say that okay? listening to you talk is literally the favourite part of my day.”

“you're just saying that,” chan huffed, hugging you tighter in an attempt to hide his flushed face.

“no, bubba, it's true. i love hearing your voice and i love how you literally light up when you talk about something you find funny or are looking forward to.

plus, it's funny seeing you get worked up over the silliest things sometimes; like that one time jeongin told you your beanie didn't go with your outfit.”

if it was possible to fall even more in love with your boyfriend, it was in this moment, watching him completely melt at your words.

“you remember that?” he whispered. it was so endearing seeing him turn into an adorable mess in front of you.

“of course, i remember that! i remember everything you tell me. and that's cause i’m genuinely invested in all your stories.” you grin.

“you're like my personal podcast. and the best part is i get to keep you all to myself.”

chan adorably wriggled his whole body with shyness, unable to handle the attention. you laughed, reaching out to hold his hands which were covering his face.

“have i told you how much i love you today?” he finally said as he peeked from between his fingers.

“well, not enough.” you tease, and he leans in for a kiss.

he didn't need to tell you how much he loved you, because you felt it in the way the biting cold outside faded into insignificance. it wasn’t the fuzzy socks or the layers of blankets keeping you warm, but rather the undeniable warmth of his love wrapping around you.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

a/n: sappy ending yes but it's currently 1:25AM and it's the best i can do rn rahh (also was this fic just me promoting the propaganda that chan is the biggest yapper ever (chan's room, bubble, yt live hello???) maybe. but was this 100% because i am a professional listener and could listen to him yap all day every day? yes.

please reblog and leave comments, they truly mean the world !

bang chan masterlist.

[hellfire--cult]

+18 - Just something i would do for boyfriend!eddie

thinking about how Eddie is out with his friends, while you're out with Nancy and Robin, and he gets a text message from you. His eyes bulge out of his skull when he reads you want a dick Pic. In the middle of the day.

In your six months of relationship, there was never a need for one. Spicy pics were not sent to one another because you basically visited eachother daily, so you could just have the real deal. He sends back a message,

Eddie: "Aren't u with nance and robs?"

You: "its for me, i just want a pic. nance has dick pics of jonathan and i don't have a single sexy pic of yours!"

Your request was weird as fuck... but Eddie adored you. He can interrogate you later on. So he goes to Gareth's bathroom, and strokes himself a bit for the head to become slightly red, and his shaft to harden. He wasn't going to send a soft dick pic, it wasn't flattering at all.

He pressed send and he waited, the only thing he received was a 'Thx :)' from you. He hummed in question, following you up with 'i'll c u later?' which you replied, 'absolutely baby'.

When he went to your apartment, he was ready to ask a bunch of questions, but you shut him up by sitting on the couch, giving him a glass of wine. He noticed the color on your lips, probably buying makeup with Nancy today you just decided to try a new lipstick.

But then you kissed him, and the glasses of wine were left on the coffee table as you ravished his tongue with yours. He wondered what had gotten into you, but before he could ask, you were getting on your knees in between his legs while he sat on the couch.

"What?" His eyes widened when you reapplied the lipstick on your lips, taking the small tube out of your back pocket, and popping your lips at him with a playful glint in your eyes. He wasn't going to complain, this not being the first time you went straight for what you wanted and he fucking loved it. He loved when you just decided to use him after doing the most homely of things, or just randomly during the day.

So he helped taking off his jeans, then his boxers. You spat on your hand and you wrapped around his dick, and he was already in heaven as he threw his head back, closing his eyes as he delighted himself into your touch. You got him hard, super hard, and then, you called out to him in a sweet, yet mischievous voice.

"Eddie~" You called and he groaned as he looked down at you, his cock hard resting on your cheek and then you gave him a soft smack of your lips on the tip of--

Oh.

"You fucking minx..." He chuckled as he realized what you had done, how you tricked him earlier in the day, a giggle escaping your lips.

"It's a good match, isn't it?" He couldn't even respond as your lips wrapped around the head, those fucking lips that wore lipstick in the color of the tip of his cock. You matched the redness, the slight pinkish tone of it, and it looked so good on you... it looked so good to see it wrapped around his shaft as you bobbed your head up and down.

And he couldn't wait to smudge it away.

[theglamorousferal]

Jason get wife-sacrificed to Ghost Zone Royalty.

As Danny is still prince, it goes to Queen Regent who is single.

Tall Queen Regent Jazz being able to absolutely manhandle Jason and causing him to swoon more than he ever thought possible.

At first it was just super embarrassing while they had people searching for a way to break it and send him home (at least on Jazz's end. Jason however, knew the opportunity presented to himself to live out his romance novel dreams and set about trying to subtly at first woo the Queen Regent.)

He spends hours in the castle library the first time she showed it to him. After the first week, he collected a pile and brought it to her office, laying out on the fainting couch with a poet's shirt slightly undone and black breeches with his combat boots. He absolutely wasn't posing. No-sir-ee.

After the first 10 minutes of reading he really did forget about trying to look enticing and got into the post-mortem published Austen novel. Hours later and into a second book, one on the legends of the Ghost Zone. he was startled by the sound of a large book closing and a heavy sigh.

"What's up?" He asks, formality was thrown out when she told him to call her, "Just Jazz please, for the love of the Ancients".

"I have had my aides look through every bit of ghostly law and I haven't found anything to suggest that there is a way to break the binding. It's also in stages, apparently it's got two mandatory ones and then a secret third one.

"The first binding is what's already been done, the sacrifice and our meeting and not immediately killing each other. The second is the marriage binding, which is typically following a period of courting up to the next Equinox, which is in three months Earth-time. The third, optional binding is, well, is if the binding ends up as a love match. Not all of them have, but some have, and it's the soul-binding. There's not much detail about what happens, and all of the examples are either of full ghosts, half-ghosts, or other supernatural entities with multiple forms." She paused and took a breath.

"As it looks like we are stuck together, um..." She became the awkward girl he had met when he first appeared at her feet in her office a week ago, blushing full pink and clashing with her vibrant orange hair. She set her jaw and straightened her spine and turned to him. "Jason Peter Todd, may I officially Court you?"

Jason lay there for a moment, book all but forgotten. He slowly set aside the book on top of the stack next to the couch and crept onto his feet. He stalked forward towards her, her face deepening in redness as he approached. He knelt to one knee before her as she turned in her chair towards him and took her hand.

"Jasmine Nightingale, only if you allow me the honor to allow me to court you in return." He kissed her knuckles and she let out a nervous squeak.

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