#in the low light fic

[ivys-thick-juicy-thighs]

Where the Delicate Stops- IV x Fem!reader/MC

An “In The Low Light” one shot. For now.

Notes: alright folx, I want you to read this very, VERY carefully. This is *technically* part of In The Low Light, but it’s much farther along in the plot than where we are with officially released chapters. There is no real plot in this, nor any character names (aside from IV), so it can be viewed as a stand alone piece for now. I wanted y’all to have something to gnaw on while I work on chapter 3. Once we reach the proper point in the plot I will re-label this as a half chapter so it fits into the right spot. Quality control by the lovely @pastlivesxpastlie (sorry again, just updating stuff) thank you as always, Wolfie.

That being said, this is SMUT. MDNI.

Tags etc: IV x fem!reader/MC, established relationship, first time, hand kink, fingering, nipple play, hand on throat but no squeezing, mirror stuff??, fem nicknames (love, baby, princess, good girl), heavy language (but c’mon it’s smut what do you expect), diabetes inducing fluff, it’ll make you cry out your eyes and down your thighs.

Word count: 2951

ITLL masterlist

I listened to Talk by Hozier while writing this. Listen to it here for ✨vibes✨

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I was sitting on my kitchen counter with IV standing between my knees, his hands on my hips, and his lips on my neck leaving soft whispers of kisses. My hands had found their way into his hair, and tugged gently at the nape of his neck. His breath shudders against my skin, and I feel his teeth graze me.

“IV…” my voice is quiet, just above a whisper. He hums against my neck as he leaves an open mouthed kiss on the corner of my jaw. “I think I’m ready. For you.”

He freezes, and his fingers flex against my lower back. He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, and I see his pupils are blown wide, his eyelids half open. He brings a hand up to cup the side of my face. “What exactly are you saying, love?” His voice is husky, gravelly. He leans closer, brushing his lips against mine, and my breath catches in my throat. I tighten my fingers in his hair, and pull him closer, deepening the kiss. He groans softly as his tongue moves against mine, and we stay like this for a few minutes; lost in one another. I catch his lower lip in my teeth as I pull back to speak.

“I’m saying I want you to make sweet, sweet love to me.” I drag my hands down his chest, across the hard planes of his body, and slip my index fingers into the waistband of his pants. “I’m saying I want you to ravage me.” I pull him closer to me and he captures my mouth with his again.

The kiss is hungry, all tongue and teeth, and his hands squeeze around my hips. I slip my hand up under the hem of his shirt and push the fabric up slightly. He steps away to pull it over his head, and I catch myself getting lost in his beauty. Tattooed skin over taught muscle, a few scars here and there, and a faint happy trail disappearing under his waistband. He catches my gaze, and smirks at me. “You like what you see, love?”

I jump off the counter, and step closer to him, scraping my nails against his skin lightly as my hands move up his chest to rest on his shoulders. His hands slide under the hem of his hoodie I’m wearing and splay across the small of my back. I place a kiss to the center of his chest, and meet his eyes. “Baby, I think you’re divine.” His expression is overtaken with my favourite smile, the one that creates those little crinkles at the edges of his eyes.

He bends down and scoops me up by the back of my thighs, and I wrap my legs around his waist. I place a small kiss on his lips, both of us smiling into it. He turns and walks to my bed, in its place in my living room, and sits on the edge with me straddling him. His mouth finds its way to my ear and the words come out soft as he breathes out. “Do you trust me, love?” He begins trailing searing open mouthed kisses down my neck, pausing to leave small bites in my skin.

I struggle to find my words, my mind made blank by the sensation of his mouth on me. The words fall out of me on a blissful sigh. “Yes…I trust you.” At this he slowly pushes up the fabric of his hoodie, his fingertips against my skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. He pulls it off over my head, and tosses it on the floor. I shiver from the slight chill in the air, my thin camisole and pajama shorts doing little to keep me warm. His hands are back on my body, and they seem to be everywhere at once. I pull his mouth back to mine, and all of my senses are consumed by him. His taste, his touch, his smell, the way he groans in the back of his throat as my nails scratch at his scalp. How his pupils have taken over his eyes when I draw back from him. “You’re so beautiful.” I can’t stop the words from rolling off my tongue. It’s the truth.

He releases a breathy laugh, and rests his forehead against mine. “You’re killing me here, love.” He brings a hand up to cup the side of my face, pushes his fingers into my hair, and pulls my mouth back down onto his. I’m left breathless as his tongue rolls against mine, exploring every crevice of my mouth. He pushes his fingers under the hem of my camisole and pulls back slightly. “Can I take this off?” I pull him back to me as I breathe out an emphatic yes. He quickly removes the garment, tossing it who knows where, and his mouth is on my chest. One of his arms wraps around my waist while the other makes its way around to cup my breast. He leaves desperate kisses on my skin, and suddenly his lips are wrapped around my nipple, his tongue swirling tantalizing circles around the sensitive bud. My head falls back as I gasp at the onslaught of sensation, my fingers pull harshly at his hair, prompting him to use his teeth. A thrill floods through my body, straight down into my core. He releases my skin with a gentle pop, and I tip my head forwards so our eyes meet. “Can you stand up for me, love?” I grant him this, simply standing between his parted knees, my hands still resting on his shoulders. His hands glide down to rest on my hips, his fingers dipping below the waistband of my shorts. His eyes bore into mine, and he leaves a single kiss against my lower stomach. “Can I?” He softly snaps the elastic my shorts against my skin to emphasize his question.

I laugh softly, and nod. “Yes, please do.” My hands always seem to find their way into his hair. He pulls my shorts and panties down my legs, and I step out of them, his eyes never leaving mine. They seem to be searching for some sign of hesitation or second thoughts. I hold his face and, bending down to kiss him briefly, I look deeply into his eyes. “I want this, you don’t have to worry about me.”

He places a small kiss on my palm, and studies me for a moment. “If at any point you want me to stop, just say the word, and I’ll stop. You are fully in control of this.” He holds me by my hips, his touch anchoring me to this moment.

I stand back up, and nod. “I know.” He leans forward and places a few small kisses against my stomach, but stops and stands up.

He grabs my chin between his fingers and forces me to make eye contact. “Do you feel safe with me, love?”

“Yes, I feel safe with you.” My stomach erupts with butterflies. The anticipation is killing me. I feel a fire ignite inside me.

“Sit on the bed, right in the center, a little away from the head board. Face towards the mirror. Wait for me,” there’s a slight stern tone to his voice and he raises his eyebrows at me. “Got that?”

“Yes.” My voice is barely more than a breath. He bends down and kisses me fiercely for just a moment, and pulls away, releasing my chin. I follow his instructions, and wait for him. I watch as he readjusts my standing mirror so that it’s turned directly towards the bed. When he steps away I can see myself perfectly.

He turns to face me and reaches down to his belt, undoing it and his pants. He pushes them down, stepping out of them, leaving him clad only in black boxer briefs. He climbs on the bed and settles behind me, his legs on either side of mine. His hands slide in between my thighs, and gently push out. “Open for me, baby.” I open my legs and he loops his around mine, pinning them down to the bed. He takes both of my hands and places them under each of his thighs and presses his legs down on them. “Keep these here, squeeze as hard as you need to. Lean back against me….just like that. Relax baby, let me do all the work.” The feel of his body against mine is enough to feed the fire inside me. When his arms wrap around my body and his hands find their way to my chest, I can’t hold back the small moan that escapes my mouth. I feel my cheeks flush, and I feel embarrassed for a moment until he says “You make such pretty sounds, love. Don’t hold back. I wanna hear how good I make you feel.” His fingers pinch and twist at my nipples and each one sends a bolt of lightning through my body. One hand trails down and begins massaging over my thighs, and the fire within me grows evermore. His hands on me are like a drug. I can never get enough of them. I need them like I need his mouth.

I crane my neck to the side searching for him, and he grants me what I seek. Our mouths move ferociously against one another, our tongues moving in tandem. He swallows my moans, and I breathe his. I can feel the hard ridge of his erection pushing into my back, how it twitches with each sound I make. His hand is still massaging the inside of my thigh, and his fingers brush against my most sensitive part. My breath shudders and I gasp against his lips. “I can’t take it anymore. Touch me, please, IV. Please, please, please. Touch me.”

He groans and brings his hand to his mouth, sucking in his middle and ring fingers. He pulls them from his lips, a small string of saliva stretching between his digits and his mouth. “I’ll go slow, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.” His fingers ghost over my clit, and the faint sensation drives me wild. My body bucks up into his hand desperately searching for more, and a loud moan pulls from my throat. He traces delicate circles over the sensitive bud before sliding his fingers down and gently pushing just the tips in. I can only enjoy the feeling for a second before he pulls them back out, returning to swirling those soft circles. Within minutes, I am a writhing whining mess. He repeats this same pattern, without end: feather light pressure and barely pushing in.

My body has a mind of its own, rolling up against his hand, constantly chasing his touch. I need more. Now. “Ffffffffuuuuuck…babyyyyy,” his fingers push in again and my thoughts falter. My hands squeeze against the muscle of his thighs, my nails digging in slightly. He releases a small hiss followed by a moan against my hair. The fire inside me is now a raging inferno.

His voice is strained, and the words come out as a plea. “What do you need, love? Tell me. Use your pretty words.”

“More. I need more.” The desperation in my voice would be humiliating at any other time.

“More of that what, baby?” There’s a teasing tone in his voice, and it drives me crazy.

I groan in frustration, “Fuck! More pressure. Deeper, please!”

“That’s it, good girl.” As a reward his fingers press down on me harder, and it rips a keening moan from my throat. When he pushes his fingers in up to the base and curls them against me, I clench hard around them. A tension begins to build in my lower belly, and my breaths leave me in ragged moans. After a few more minutes of this torturous pattern, I can no longer think. I feel his breath on my ear as he speaks. “Are you close, love?” My response is a desperately gasped yes! “Cum for me, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze around me, feel how wet you get. You’re so beautiful, princess. Show me how good I make you feel.”

With this, the tension inside me snaps, and when his fingers push in again, my vision goes white behind my eyelids and I convulse with each thrust of his fingers. He keeps them pushed in, to the knuckle, repeatedly curling them against that tender spot inside, each brush of his fingers sending a shock of electricity down my legs. He continues his ministrations through my orgasm, my body rocking and bucking against his hand all the while. When he begins to pull his hand away, I quickly pull my hand out from under his leg and place it over his. “No, don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.” I slide his hand back down to my quivering pussy, and guide his fingers back inside.

The groan that leaves him is pure sin. “Oh my fucking god, baby, you’re so sexy.” As he pulls his fingers back out and begins rubbing firm and fast circles on my clit again, I place my hand back under his leg. When he goes to push back in, he adds a third finger, the stretch causing my body to arch against his arm still giving attention to my chest. A loud animalistic moan tears from my throat, my eyes falling shut, and I feel his hand move from my chest to my throat. He doesn’t squeeze, but he applies a gentle yet firm pressure. “Look at yourself, baby. Do you see how fucking incredible you are? Do you see yourself how I see you, now? Look.” I open my eyes and look at our reflection in the mirror, my mind reeling at what I see. His arms wrapped around me, one hand on my throat, the other on my pussy. The gone expression on his face as he watches us in the mirror, my face matching his as my body jerks with pleasure. The way his fingers disappear inside me. This image will be burned into my mind for the rest of my life. His words send shivers down my spine as he breathes them against my ear. “You think that I’m divine, darling, you’re a fucking goddess.” With this, he gives a particularly firm thrust of his hand, pressing into my g-spot, and I feel my second orgasm begin to build. The sensation of his hand slowly dragging across my slick skin, and his fingers stretching me open soon becomes all I can think about and feel. My breath leaves me in rapid motion, and tension builds in my body, my legs shaking with each swirl of his fingers against my clit. I let my head fall back against his shoulder, a long drawn out moan pulling from my throat. Once again his words come as a hot breath on my ear. “Do you feel loved by me, darling?”

“Yes, I feel loved by you, IV!” I gasp the words as my climax begins to hit. “FUCK!! I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum!” My nails dig harshly into his thighs, and my mouth hangs open as a high keening whimper releases from my lips.

“Cum for me, princess. Let me feel you fall apart in my hands.” My wish is his command, and my orgasm crashes through me like a tsunami. I ride the waves for what feels like eternity, the drag of his skin against my most delicate parts a tantalizing delicious treat. As the tides of my climax begin to recede, the strokes of his hand slow too. I bring my hand back to rest on top of his when it comes to a stop. He releases my legs from his, and I bring my other arm out to rest on his other arm, as it wraps tighter around my torso. I close my legs around both of our hands, enjoying the warmth spreading through my body. He presses countless kisses against my neck and shoulder, anywhere he can reach, until I’m a giggling mess. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. I love you so much. Thank you for trusting me enough for that.”

I turn to face him and pull my hand out from between my thighs to hold his face as I pull him closer to mine. We share a tender, drawn out kiss, just enjoying the feel of each other. I pull away breathless, and rest my forehead against his cheek. My hand once again has found its way into his hair. “I love you more. And now I want to return the favour.” His erection is still pressing into my back, and by now it must be feeling painfully hard.

He presses a kiss to my temple and hums against my skin. “As much as I would like that, I think we’ve gone far enough for tonight, love. I’ll be alright. I don’t want to push you too hard. Not yet, anyway.” A teasing tone colours his voice with the last sentence, and we both fall into a fit of soft laughter. He pulls his hand out from between my legs, and scoots off the bed, turning to hold his other hand out to me. I take it, and we both go into my small bathroom to clean up.

When we come back out, we turn down the lights and crawl under the blankets. He pulls me to him, and peppers my face with kisses before tucking me into his chest. I nuzzle against his skin, and wrap my arms around his waist. We whisper our “I love yous” into the dark, and drift off to sleep for the night.

[kittysauce]

au where L and Light fall in love during the yotsuba arc ............... i think its a crazy interesting concept

[veryinnovative]

@jegulus-microfic | april 30, prompt: sky | word count: 1.927 featuring older ceo regulus black and younger secretary james potter part 2 | part 1 AKA word on the street is i Excel in the sheets

“Erh…” he tries after a stretch of silence. “So, how was your day?”

Regulus pins him frozen to place with a look, a sign spelling ‘stupid’ nailed right into his forehead. “You know how my day was. You manage my schedule.”

Damn, tough crowd. “Okay,” James drawls, a little unsure. “But, like, how did it go?”

The place functions as any other hole-in-the-wall restaurant that serves just a handful of people throughout the day, most of whom are loyal customers returning every so often for a comfort meal when homesickness becomes a little too much to bear. Even now, there are only a couple of people scattered about, none of which pay any mind to either Regulus or James.

“So, first impressions?” James asks when he takes a seat across from him.

“It’s satisfactory.”

“Satisfactory.” James blinks.

Regulus is quiet. He looks terribly out of place wearing a luxury suit exported from one of the globe’s corners and James can’t help but feel a little guilty. He’s seen Regulus carve into lobster with only a fork and knife but still can’t help but worry about future dry cleaning prices for which he may or may not be responsible.

“Erh…” he tries after a stretch of silence. “So, how was your day?”

Regulus pins him frozen to place with a look, a sign spelling ‘stupid’ nailed right into his forehead. “You know how my day was. You manage my schedule.”

Damn, tough crowd. “Okay,” James drawls, a little unsure. “But, like, how did it go?”

Regulus, perhaps finally acknowledging his poor attempts at small talk to ease the awkwardness, studies him intently for a long, close moment before acquiescing. “Enervating.” Right, because Regulus is the type to unironically use words like enervating. 

“The business deal?” James asks and Regulus nods. “Dude from Jakarta, right?”

“The CEO from the biggest real estate company in Jakarta,” Regulus corrects him. 

Tomato, tomato. “Does this mean you get to leave work at a reasonable hour starting tomorrow?”

“I’ve never had reasonable working hours.”

“Of course, I forgot the very important detail you’re a raging workaholic.”

Regulus’ mouth sets into a firm line as his brows knit together into a censorious frown—his entire face contorting into something that’s one odd remark away from turning downright petulant. “I am not—” He stops. Breathes in. Probably recognizes James is very carefully pulling his tail and for some reason becomes decidedly collegial. “Allow me to rephrase myself. I am meticulous. I prefer finishing tasks before going home and don’t mind when it results in me staying at work a little longer. It’s inevitable as a CEO when timezones don’t work in my favor.” 

Absolute bullshit. “Just last week you kept leaving the office after the cleaning shift already came by to sweep the place clean. I know because they told me.”

“I can’t see how any of this poses as a bother to you.” And there it is, the good ole Regulus Black-esque deflection. 

“I’m just worried. That is all.”

Regulus’ nose twitches and he looks away, a clear indication that he no longer wants to be a willing participant in the conversation. When Regulus becomes like this, James has learned to leave it be.

Luckily, it doesn’t take long for the food to arrive. James can stop pretending to take in the beautiful sight of the night sky, cracked asphalt, and the flickering colors of traffic signs when the plate is placed on the center of the table, carrying an assortment of different meat cuts and a modest side salad that will probably be Regulus’ for the taking.

Using the table etiquette of a properly groomed aristocrat, Regulus carefully selects some vegetables to put on his plate and a modest serving of rice. He skillfully carves out some pieces around the skewer.

“Seriously,” James deadpans. “Go on, Your Royal Highness, you can use your hands for this.”

Regulus almost bridles at the mere suggestion.

“Seriously, there’s no shame in it. Here, let me do it for you”

Regulus watches as James grabs one of the skewers and uses his fork to tear chunks off, dropping a generous portion of roasted vegetables and meat on Regulus’ plate. “You want some of this flatbread?”

Regulus shakes his head and James shrugs. He swiftly mouths off a dollop of sauce on his thumb, which earns him one of Regulus’ notorious James-exclusive grimaces.

Right, table manners.

They get to eating and James is once again reminded of how much of a slow eater Regulus is. It’s like he counts his chews, jaw working diligently with the faint scrapes of his cutlery against the plate. That and he works even as he eats, almost on auto-pilot with how he takes out his phone to open Outlook.

“Using your phone at the table is rude manners,” James teases.

“I got an e-mail.”

“Of course.” He nods. “Nothing workaholic about that, no.”

“It’s an important e-mail.”

“You know I read something about how it’s also important to spend time with your employees.”  He waves around a piece of the flatbread as if to emphasize the point. “Get to know them better and all.”

“I know plenty about you,” Regulus answers as he types away.

“That so?”

Regulus looks at him, entirely indifferent as the phone is placed face-down on the table. “James Potter. Twenty-three years old. Finished your master’s degree at Oxford, with flying colors might I add. You took a gap year to travel, working all sorts of jobs to pay for your accommodation. Currently, you live near Camden and spend most of your spare time enjoying hobbies or going to the pub with your friends. You have a Joe and the Juice stamp card.”

James tries not to physically reel back. “That…” He starts, absolutely nonplussed. Someone come pick his fucking jaw off the table, it’s dropped off its hinges. “You know what Joe and the Juice is?” Impossible, all things considered. Regulus is in a tax bracket where chain restaurants might seem like fanciful inventions, the kind of places mentioned only in tales where fine dining is unheard of. There's a brief curiosity about whether this is the equivalent of discovering that Toy Story's Pizza Planet is a real place that actually serves food.

“I've come to understand that it's a venue offering juice among a broad array of meals and beverages, yes.”

Still, that’s doesn’t explain… “How do you even know all of that? I hardly even know anything about you other than that you recently turned thirty and were homeschooled for this position.” And that he’s quite fond of the occasional handful of candied macadamias when feeling particularly indulgent. James keeps a packet of it in his bag.

Regulus’ throat bobs. “I do thorough research on the people I employ”

That’s not more than thorough research at this point, far beyond the usual background checks done on new personnel. “Uh-uh. Or you stalk my Instagram during your free time.”

Regulus promptly chokes on his food. His fork falls onto the plate with a loud clatter. James nearly knocks his knee against the table as he too scrambles for the pitcher to pour him water, almost knocking over his can of Sprite in the process.

“Easy, I was just kidding.” He has half the mind to stand up and start patting him on his back to dislodge whatever molecular-sized cucumber wedged itself in his airpipe. “I doubt Mr. Black Enterprises even uses Instagram.”

Regulus looks up startled. Definitely not from the lack of air.

Oh.

Ohohohoh.

“Oh my god.” James’ face splits into a distinguished, shit-eating grin. “You do.” 

“What?” It’s barely a wheeze with the way Regulus has been caught. His grip is deadly around the fork, something that should warn James to be wary.

“Instagram,” James repeats, trying his hardest not to gloat when Regulus shivers. “You use it? The Regulus Black uses Instagram? I thought you would be a member of some upper-echelon-exclusive platform instead of mingling with us.”

The worry swiftly dissipates, giving way to confusion, and then settles into something far more at ease. Although James enjoys those fleeting moments where he gets Regulus riled up, he much prefers seeing him relaxed. “Oh—I—Yes. Occasionally,” he stammers, swallowing and reaching for a napkin to dap at his mouth with. “Barty convinced me,” he hastily adds. “It’s a very private account. I’m hardly active on it.”

Sinking into his seat, James pats around for his own phone. “You should follow me.”

“Shu?”

“On Instagram. You should follow me. If you want, of course.”

The tips of Regulus’ ears turn a delicious pink as he returns his attention to his plate. “I’ll think about it.”

After some more idle talk and eating, they decide to head out before Barty ultimately decides it’s past working hours and he’s not dropping Regulus off at home—some palatial penthouse tucked away in one of London's secluded enclaves where the affluent reside, enjoying a life of extravagance as they remain shielded from the public gaze.

Nonetheless, the cherished designated driver will have to linger a bit longer, as both James and Regulus pull out their cards at the cash register. Being a very wise man, Hakeem registers the amount into the terminal and swiftly turns away, well aware that nothing good ever comes from getting involved.

James dismissively waves his hand. “You can put away your card, it’s on me.”

Of course, Regulus isn’t compliant in the slightest. “I made you feel obligated to stay longer than you intended, so it's only right that I pay.”

“I’m the one who invited you, come now.”

“And I’m the one responsible for making you miss out on dinner.”

“Nah. I told you, it was my fault. Seriously, I want to—”

He attempts to move closer, but Regulus also edges forward. Despite being shorter, Regulus exudes an air of authority that instinctively compels James to widen the gap between them and not bump into him. “And I insist.”

But luckily, James is taller and his arms are longer. “Gotta be quicker than that then.”

He extends his arm, shooting right past Regulus’ and taps his card against the terminal, smiling smugly when Regulus scowls up at him, not in the least impressed by his playing dirty. James’ lips part, a jab resting right on the tip of his tongue, something along the lines of ‘They don’t teach you this at fancy pants school?’ only for a chime to disrupt his train of thought.

Card declined.

“Low funds, Yakup,” Hakeem announces without looking over his shoulder like James isn’t sinking to his knees in embarrassment already. 

“You got paid four days ago,” Regulus murmurs at his side.

“Rent and utilities were due yesterday.” It nearly comes out in a whine.

“I doubt your rent takes up your whole salary.”

“I also had to pay off my credit card,” James grits out, fumbling through his wallet looking for some cash. In an alternative universe where they’re starred in some cartoon show, the poor faux leather division coughs up dust motes.

“Seriously? How much do you make?

“Might I remind you that you pay me.”

The way Regulus clutches onto his credit card, unlimited of course, one might think the poor thing is about to fold in half. James might as well, to be honest. “Move.”

“No.” His pride’s already been hurt. “Hakeem, can I pay in installments?”

“Only if you take young Khadija out on a date.”

James considers it for a moment, but Regulus the comment only makes Regulus seethe further, “Potter, if you don’t move I’ll give you a reason to worry.”

That’s enough to convince James. He steps away, all kicked puppy-like, and watches how Regulus’ payment gets processed far quicker. “Next time’s on me.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, even as the apples of his cheeks dust pink. “Come, I’m tired and want to go home.”

[bazpango]

San Francisco Killers: Player Stats Light Yagami - #89 - C

The SF Killers won the NHL Draft Lottery this year, and happily selected Yagami as their first overall pick for the 2004-2005 season. When asked about selecting a rookie for first overall pick, head coach, Yagami Sr. had this to say: "Within a week or so [of practice] we realized we were witnessing hockey history in the making. Light is a generational talent, and the team couldn't be more happy to have him."

New York Bells: Player Stats L Lawliet - #82 - C "[Lawliet] has proven over and over that he's the best player in the game today. The more important the game, the more impact he makes," says head coach of the NY Bells, Watari.

Lawliet is set to score his 300th goal, and Watari had this to say: "the team, the fans, everyone is really excited for it. It's an honour to have him back on New York soil for such a milestone."

[edenfire]

💗🏥 Shuake Week- Day 6 - Wound Tending 🏥💗

I've always really liked the idea of goro waking up after the engine room with a bullet wound in the chest. he miraculously survives, and akira has to take him in and tend to him, while hiding him from shido's men😳💦

(also yes, goro is wearing akira's pj pants😌💞)

[jamiesfootball]

@whydoilikevillains14113

Waaaaauuuugh, thank you for this! It's so lovely when people ask for stuff, especially stuff that I haven't posted about in a while! Gives me the warm and fuzzies, that does

I didn't have a snippet to share that was really ready ready, so I made one! Then it got big.

From the longer version of this post, where Jamie stays with the team in Amsterdam, and after the pillow fight decides to share with them what happened the first time he was there.

No content warnings apply to this snippet in particular, but it does discuss some of what Jamie has just shared with his teammates

"I'm sorry," Jamie blurted, unsure of what else he could possibly add to- not excuse it, no, but to rescue some of the image of himself in Sam's eyes. The shadow of Sam hovering over him felt heavy with the potential of he didn't know what. He wished he could shrink, seep into the hotel carpet until he spilled out the other side, underground somewhere below the basement where only the bones and the rot would welcome him. He squeezed his eyes shut; forced himself to open them again. Blinked wetly at the shadows and the broken light spilled across the ceiling. "I know you don't- approve of that sort of stuff-" The angel that was Sam's shadow bristled, and Jamie swore he saw white feathers dance from his shoulders.

"Of course I do not approve-," hissed Sam, only for his words to come to a sharp stop. Jamie couldn't see what was happening on his face, but he could hear the air shift as something churned over in Sam's head, some great gears stirring through the muddied waters. With awful softness, he said, "Jamie. Are you under the impression that I am upset because you visited a sex worker?"

His ears burned. Stupid reaction, that, but hearing Sam put it so bluntly made a fresh wave of shame curl in his chest.

He shouldn't have said anything. He should've left it in the dark, under the waters with that skinny kid and his naively stupid heart and the footprints that stopped at the edge of the bridge.

"I dunno," he shrugged helplessly. His teeth ground together like stone, and if he twisted his fingers any tighter he might accidentally spark into flames. "You seemed pretty against it earlier when we were voting."

Sam shook his head, dislodging more feathers from the sky. "No, no, that's not-"

"That isn't a sex work problem," Jan interrupted. It was the first he'd spoken since Jamie started talking, and he'd never heard him sound so angry before. "That's illegal."

[dea-thynote]

Death note au (dimension travel) where ryuk never got interested in the human world therefore there is no kira. And lawlight had this coworkers to frenemies (and possibly lovers) tension that their coworkers just loaths. After they worked on a case (that seemed to work on the supernatural and drove both of them insane trying to get evidence on) and finally caught the criminal which light apprehended. The criminal curses light to become the worst criminal there is and of course, Light ignores it and goes home to sleep. Only, maybe he shouldn't have because now he keeps waking up in various places (or universe?) Where he has to keep saving L from dying because of him. But in doing so, he also dies either from a heart attack or gets executed to death by L. His only way out would be to either find the criminal from the universe that cursed him, or become 'kira' a mass murderer that is apparently him.

They finally caught him. A criminal that has been going around for months that either commits the most complicated murder or petty crimes, without leaving a trace! Which shouldn't be possible, for months both L and light tried to catch that guy but he somehow gets away! That at one point, while L and light were arguing how, L just throws the theory of supernatural and denies it by saying 'we can figure it out once we catch him'. And they do catch him. Light apprehended the guy before he does what ever he was going to do. The guys glare was venomous. And while being dragged to the police car with his hands behind him, he glares at light and curses him to become the worst criminal the world has ever seen.

Light ignores this and just sighs tiredly. He comes back to the head quarters and makes his way to L, who has been waiting for him with a blank face. 'He's mad' light thought and slows his steps. L congratulates him for catching the guy but also mentions how reckless it was for light-kun to work alone and go against the plan. Light immediately defends himself saying he was getting away and he had to do it. L stares at him and says that he doesn't need to put himself in danger like that, especially when the criminal is unpredictable. Light scoffs.

"Careful L, you sound like you care about me."

"I do."

That made light speechless.

"Afterall, Light-kun is my first friend."

"... oh"

Light excuses himself, mentions how he was tired and rushes out. L stares back to his monitor and plays back recordings of the criminal.

Light makes it to his home and settles down. He forgot about the mentioned curse and just thinks about his conversation with L. To him, L was both admirable and an asshole. Light finds himself fascinated whenever L speaks about his theories and findings, only for the moment to shatter everytime L tries to single him out.

'Afterall, Light-kun is my first friend."

Light shakes his head and dismisses thought. 'Yeah right'. He lays down and closes his eyes. Yeah, he just needs to rest, no need to think about L, considering that man is a manipulative liar.

But then he wakes up. Disoriented and catches himself before he falls down (falls down? Why is he standing?) He hears the sound of rushing rain and immediately becomes confused. 'Where is he?' He looks around, it seems to be a rooftop and in front of him was, L. Huh? What was he doing there? L is looking up. There's a sense of melancholy around the place that causes lights heart to stutter. And looking at L's expression his heart might've as well paused. The benefit of working with L for years had been that light was confident that he could easily read L's expression and posture and know what he's thinking. He's never seen L like this. Like he has already lost. Like he had given up, and waiting to his death. Light feels a sinking worry grow to his heart and calls out to him, asking him what he was doing there? When it became evident that L couldn't hear him, he walks to him, using his hand as a cover though it doesn't seem to stop the rain from going to his face.

Light asks him again and L mentions hearing a bell. The bell has been ringing non stop lately, can he hear it? Light shakes his head, and says he doesn't. Really? He wonders whether it was a church, maybe a wedding or perhaps... L pauses. Light is getting frustrated (he ignores the feeling of anxiousness or worry) and asks L what he's getting at, he should cut it out and they should go inside (because this isn't- this isn't a look that should be on L. This is not like him). L looks down and apologizes, and light's anxiousness grows even more evident in his face. "Nothing I say makes any sense anyway"

Light doesn't like it. He doesn't like the downcast expression plastered on L's face. His heart is slowly sinking down, and he fixes his expression into an amused one. If there's one thing light yagami knows, it's to frustrate L just as much as he frustrates him. So he agrees, and remarks how if he takes anything L says seriously there would not end his trouble. The words that would've been genuine at any other time feels like Ash to his tongue. He silently pleads, any expression on L's face would've been better than the one he is wearing right now. L stares at him,

"Tell me light, from the moment you were born. Has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?"

Light's heart skips a beat. L's face looks determined and accusing that it frustrates and confuses light even more. He couldn't take this anymore and is just confused why L is acting like this (like he's a criminal that should be arrested). And he couldn't take it anymore. He sighs angrily, and ruffles his head. A frustrated expression morphs to his face and he glares at L.

"What are you talking about L? Are you still mad about the case? I did what I had to do! I just-" light looks down, not catching the confused stare L gives him and stubbornly mutters

"I'm... sorry okay? I'll listen to you this time alright? Just-" don't make that face. Don't make that expression.

He doesnt continue and let's the silence fill the conversation. Before he hears a sneeze, which he drags L back to the building.

They both dry themselves off with a towel. Now that light is sitting down on the stairs, he thinks more about his situation right now. And realizes some things. He doesn't recognize this place and that what he's wearing right now is different from when he slept at his place. Those thoughts were interrupted by L apologising again, and crouching to his feet, towel in hand. L offers to dry his feet off, which light begrudgingly agrees to. Again, L looks like he's showing weakness which light resents.

"It'll be lonely, wouldn't it?"

Light resents him even more. And before L could say anything else, Light grips on his collar, until they are close to each other and seethes. He yells at L, what's wrong with him. Why is he acting like this? He couldn't control his expression before it morphs into worry and anxiousness. "You know you can talk to me about it right?" L stares at him. His face hardens, and light could see that he doesn't believe him even for a second.

'Just... why? What happened?'

His expression pleads for L to answer. To say anything. But L just stares at him, before his expression goes back to it again.

Light silently follows him. He would never admit it, but he's worried okay? This guy literally just told him he was his 'first' friend yesterday, and now he's acting weird. (And also it becomes apparent to him that this might not be a dream, to his frustration, and since he doesn't know where to go he mostly follows to not get lost).

They're at the monitor room and the task force greets them, some looking at a space warily. Light couldn't help but feel at awe with how different this place was and although he recognizes some people in there He's confused why there's only a few officers here. And soon, L announces his plan on testing the death note (death note?). The officers and his father were protesting which L dismisses. And then an alarm rings, L looks up at one of the monitors worryingly, as the data deletion happens. The officers panics and looks for the 'shinigami' which confuses light to also look around and looks back at L.

His eyes widen as L froze in shock, dropping the spoon from his hand before swaying and collapses. Light, catching his frozen expression, rushes and jumps to catch him before his body hit the floor. Light felt his heart stop as he looks at L, He's not dying-- is he? Light's face finally cracks as his face morphs to what he's feeling. From anxious, to horror, to worry. He tries to shake L, to stay with them, and shuffles for his phone. He can't find it, where is it!? He looks to the task force and shouts for them to call for help- an ambulance- fucking ANYTHING!

He doesnt get to see L's expression, his confusion and his sorrow. Even at the very end he didn't get the confirmation that light is kira. How cruel.

Light decided that he wants to get revenge. When they ask him to become the next L, he says yes. After all, he can't let who killed L know he's dead and also to proceed testing the death note. Light shut down every or any protest against the idea. This might not be his universe, but he would make sure that this criminal faces his deserved justice. After countless of sleepless nights (with all the data deleted he has to start from scratch. But it doesn't matter, he's confident in his skills) he gathers any and every information about kira from news articles, to his methods, to the theories. (He ignores the sinking feeling that the ideals of kira seems to align with his morals). And before he knows it, 13 days had passed after the prisoners used the death note.

They did not die.

And after the rule were discovered to be fake. Light and misa were arrested and before he knows it, he's already about to be executed. With his and misa's name and face plastered on every news media, even if they escaped or proven to be innocent. They would be damned by the public. He thinks about L in his last moments, and tries to process what is happening.

'It'll be lonely, wouldn't it?'

He sees a familiar figure at his execution. That man is--

He wakes up again. A phantom feeling of the pain he felt from the execution. And face to face with L pointing a gun to his direction.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

days where i have nothing to do: ohhhh im so sleepy im so so tired no one is more eepy than me

nights where i have to wake up at a set time: I Have Never Been More Awake In My Life

[spokelseskladden]

Im so mentally ill right now pls hand me my vitamin d pills i need to be fixed, i haven't felt sunlight upon my skin for a week and it's raining over the snow so it's all sloppy and slippery and dark out so i can't go anywhere without getting my feet soaked and my inlaws are asking me what i want for christmas like specifically which means i have to share my interests but i don't want to be perceived right now because I'm feeling the winter paranoia/madness and also i had to take the trashcan out yesterday and faceplanted in the snow and my glasses are all scratched up so i think im going to need new ones and if i want to go ANYWHERE i need to defrost my fucking car on the daily and i hate it. I hate winter i HATE IT. And i have an exam on friday as well as work and a christmas party to attend. I need to move to the forest and become one with nature, just leave society behind and live like Isak in Growth of the soil even though i fucking hate Knut Hansun, that nazi bitch.

[ratatatastic]

do you write fic on ao3?

unfortunately for everyone involved i do!

[baeshijima]

its the way like,,, half of sundays section in the pinterest board is just outfit inspo for him as a duke bc there is like no art of him as one and i am going insane with all the possibilities he could have

like

THE CUFFLINKS AND CRAVATS AND FORM FITTING CLOTHES AND THE OFF-SHOULDER CAPES AND THE GLOVES AND THE JEWELLERY AND THE FRILLS AND THE EMBROIDERY AND THE AMULET WITH HIS FAMILY CREST AND THE FAMILY COLOURS HE MATCHES WITH ROBIN (and u as well bc ur part of the family now) AND—

IS THE VISION BEING SEEN

[ivys-thick-juicy-thighs]

In The Low Light- Chapter 2

Photo credit and source unknown

Notes: tumblr is fucking testing my patience with this. This will be about the 6th time I’ve tried to make this post, so if the formatting is weird I am going to break something. Quality control by @pastlivesxpastlie (if you get a notification for this I’m sorry, I’m just updating stuff) thank you Professor Wolfie, you’re a saint and a lifesaver. Anywhoozle, this one has me allllll up in my feels. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Tags/warnings/etc: Biker!IV x Fem!OC, disordered eating habits but you have to squint, smoking, aggressive words of affirmation, sweet sugary fluff that’ll make you diabetic

Word count: 2368

Summary: IV takes some time over the week to show Sadie that she can trust him, he drives her home from work, and he asks her on a date.

••••••••••••••••••••���••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The following day I found myself replaying the interactions with Mr. Numerals. He was clearly no stranger to dangerous situations and was not to be toyed with. He was about to offer to walk me home or something. Why was he so concerned with my safety? And my biggest question: why was he being so kind to me? He was obviously wanting to get something out of this for himself, but I was lost as to what. He didn’t act like a starving animal drooling over a piece of meat. He said it himself, he may be a criminal, but he isn’t a monster. Maybe he’s just genuinely being nice for the sake of being nice… I’m pulled from my conflicted thoughts by the sound of a customer obnoxiously clearing their throat at the pharmacy counter. I spend entirely too much time explaining to the senior gentleman that he didn’t have any refills left. When he finally leaves with a dramatic huff of frustration and a few colourful metaphors, I tell the pharmacist that I’m going on a smoke break. I take my name tag off, grab my cigarettes and lighter, and head for the front doors.

As I walk along the side of the building, my gaze focuses on the sight of a familiar looking motorcycle, the rider leaning against the seat. He’s wearing the exact same thing as yesterday—helmet on, the visor pulled down. In his hands is a cheap flip phone, and his fingers move deftly across the buttons. I bring my cigarette to my mouth and light it, inhaling deeply before speaking. “I thought I told you not to follow me.” I blow the smoke from my lungs and shiver as a cold breeze blows across the parking lot.

His obstructed face turns towards me and he reaches up to pull off his helmet. Underneath is the same mask as yesterday. “I’m not following you. I swear I had no idea you worked here.” Surprise colours his voice, and his eyes reflect this. I almost believe him.

“Mmhmm…” I walk to the wall of the building and lean against it, taking another drag off my smoke. My eyes catch on his, and I hold his gaze for a few seconds. “I’d tell you I believe you, but I’d be lying.”

He chuckles slightly and breaks eye contact first. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me, however I am being honest. I’m here to make a business deal. I didn’t know you worked here.” He brings his eyes back up to mine, and I see no deception in them.

I struggle to find something to say, and before I can, my stomach growls loudly enough for him to hear it, even from several feet away. I wrap my arms around myself as another icy breeze hits my skin.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” Before I can answer, he turns to the back of his bike, opens a large compartment, and begins searching through it. He seems to find what he’s looking for and turns, walking closer until he’s in front of me. He holds his hand out, one of those high calorie protein bars in his palm, though it’s a brand I don’t recognize.

“I’ll be fine.” I shake my head no at him. My stomach growls again in protest.

“Please, I insist.” He pushes his hand even closer. “You need to eat.”

I sigh, reaching out and taking the bar from his grasp, a small smile playing at the edges of my mouth. “Thank you.” I rip open the wrapper and take a bite. It’s chocolate and some kind of dried fruit. It’s absolutely delicious. My eyes shut of their own accord as I enjoy the taste. “Oh my god…”

I hear a deep chuckle from him and feel a flush in my cheeks. I open my eyes and find him watching me, his eyes crinkled at the edges from the unseen smile on his face. I pull my eyes away and look at my feet, the warmth in my face burning even hotter now. I take another bite.

I hear a faint buzz, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Unfortunately, I need to cut this short. Enjoy the last few bites, princess.” He gives me a small nod, and turns back to his bike. He picks up his helmet, but turns to look at me before he puts it on. “I like it when you smile. Your whole face lights up. It’s a beautiful sight.” With that he pushes the helmet over his head, settles into the seat, and the engine roars to life. He backs out of the parking spot, and drives away leaving me reeling from his compliment.

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

The next day happens much the same. Only this time when I walk outside, his helmet is off and in his hands are a to-go cup from the coffee shop across the lot and another protein bar. He hands me both when I get close enough, our fingers brushing for a second before he pulls away.

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got peppermint tea with a little bit of honey. And another one of those bars.” His voice is soft, with a touch of uncertainty. His eyes avoid mine, and his fingers twitch.

He’s so charming. This thought flies through my mind, catching me off guard. “Uhm- Thank you, you didn’t have to get me anything.” My voice is hushed. “It’s too kind of you.” I step away, moving to stand against the building. A harsh cold wind blows over the parking lot, and I hold the cup close to my chest to absorb the warmth. I shiver hard and my teeth chatter together.

“Actually,” he rummages through the compartment on the back of the bike again, this time pulling out a small throw blanket. “I think I did. I wanted to make sure you had something to eat, and a hot drink.” He shakes out the blanket and walks toward me. He stops directly in front of me, and holds the blanket out with an expectant look in his eyes. “May I?” I hesitate for a second before timidly nodding and pulling away from the cold wall behind me. He drapes the blanket around my shoulders, pulling the corners across my chest and I tuck them under my arms. His fingers land on my shoulders and trace down my arms lightly, and I glance up to find his eyes on me.

A few moments pass before the words tumble out of my mouth. “Why are you being so kind to me? You don’t owe me anything. And besides, you said it yourself: you don’t need to clean up someone else’s mess.” I pause as I flick my gaze between his eyes. “What do you want from me?”

His hands drop from my arms and he lets out a small exasperated laugh; he shakes his head slightly and looks up at the gray sky. “Princess, I don’t want anything from you…it’s what I want for you. And that’s your safety. As for why? Well, I feel obligated to take care of you. Lastly,” he turns his eyes on mine, and I’m captivated by the intensity there. “You are a person deserving of kindness. You are not a mess that needs to be cleaned up. Do not take what I say to a couple of idiots for what I think about you. You would be sorely mistaken.” There’s a stern tone to his voice that makes me feel like a child in trouble. “Am I understood?”

I swallow heavily and nod, my eyes glued to his.

“Words, please, princess.” His eyes are still drilling into mine, and his voice borders on frustration.

“Yes, I understand.” My voice is quiet, and I can breathe again when he finally releases my gaze from his. I study my shoes, and I hear him heave a sigh.

“I should go. Keep the blanket, you need it more than I do. I’ll see you soon.” He puts his helmet on, and starts the engine, quickly pulling out of his spot and driving away. Once again, I’m left standing playing his words over in my mind.

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

For the rest of the week, the pattern repeats. He hands me a hot cup of tea and a protein bar, and I pull the blanket around my shoulders. We talk about nothing special for a few minutes. He never stays for long, five minutes at most. I don’t question his motives, and I accept his offerings without hesitation. He makes kind gestures to me, and we share a few touches here and there that linger for just long enough. He never pushes any further than that.

Until Friday that is. “If you’re comfortable with it, I’d like to drive you home today. I don’t like the thought of you walking alone in the cold on such a busy street.” He’s leaning against the wall beside me this time. Today he has his own cup, and when the breeze blows just right, I’m greeted by the aroma of decadent hot chocolate.

I’m halfway through my tea, and swallow the last bite of the bar before I answer. “Sure, on one condition.” He looks at me with an odd combination of disbelief and curiosity. I hold his gaze with my own. “Tell me your name.”

He drops his eyes to the ground and laughs softly. “For now,” He looks back at me, and reaches up to his left shoulder and taps his finger on the numerals. “You can call me four. And yours?”

A small smile washes over my face. “Sadie. It’s nice to meet you IV.”

After a few more minutes of easy banter, he finishes his drink and makes for his bike, pausing and turning back to face me. “What time are you off?”

“I finish at 5:30”

He nods, and gets on his bike. “I’ll see you then.” He puts his helmet on and pulls out of the lot.

When my shift ends, I find myself filled with a strange excitement. I put on my warmer layers, and head outside to the usual spot.

He’s there waiting, an extra helmet under his arm. When I stop in front of him, he stands and flicks his visor up. “Ok, first off, you’ll have to take your hat off. It won’t fit under the helmet.” I take the woolen hat off, and stuff it into my pocket. “Now, you’ll have to tie your hair back. Or it’ll all push into your face and you won’t be able to see anything.” I pull my hair back into a low ponytail and look at him expectantly. “Perfect. This is going to feel a little tight at first, but it’s supposed to fit a bit snug. We don’t want it to come off too easily.” He places the helmet on the top of my head and gently pushes it down. Once fully on, he leans his forehead against mine, his eyes holding mine. “How’s that feel?”

“Good. A bit snug, but good.” My eyes flick between his eyes. They’re so pretty. I could look into them for hours. They crinkle at the edges with a hidden smile.

“Good.” He drops a wink at me, and leans back. His deft hands reach for the chin strap, fastening it under my jaw. Lastly he reaches up and pulls my visor down, then his own. “And we are good to go. Ready?”

I nod, “ready.”

He gets on first, and I climb on behind him. He shows me where to rest my feet, and I hesitantly hold onto his sides, suddenly overtaken by shyness. He turns his head towards me. “You’ll want to hold on tight, love. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” I can hear the smile in his voice. I slide my arms around his middle and lean further into him. I catch a little of his cologne, and the heady scent leaves me breathless. I feel one of his hands come to rest on my forearm for a moment.

He asks me my address, and I freeze for a moment. Anxious thoughts flit through my mind but I push them down before answering him. The engine roars to life and we pull out of the lot.

The ride is short, much shorter than it would be to walk. When we pull into the parking lot of my apartment building, I feel a little disappointed that it’s over so quickly. We climb off the bike, and he takes off my helmet for me. I can’t stop the wide grin that consumes my face, and my cheeks hurt. It’s been a long time since I’ve smiled this much.

He takes his own helmet off, and his eyes have those little crinkles at the edges again, and my fingers twitch with the desire to gently brush over them. He’s so beautiful. “I’d like to take you on a proper date sometime. I hope that’s not too fast.”

My cheeks flush, and my eyes drop to the ground for a second before flicking back to his. “No, that’s not too fast. And I’d love to.” My face still hurts from the smile plastered across it.

He places a hand over his heart, closes his eyes and tilts his head back, while releasing a relieved sigh. His knees bend slightly before straightening again. “You just made me the happiest man alive, princess. How does tomorrow night, 7 pm sound? I’ll pick you up here?” He looks down at me, and his eyes are sparkling.

“That sounds perfect, I’m counting down the seconds.” He nods at this, and I take it as my cue to head inside.

As I go to walk past him, he catches my hand in his. I look at him, surprised by the prolonged presence of his skin on mine. His eyes lock onto mine, and he pulls my hand up to the mouth of his mask, pressing the hard material into my knuckles. I can hear the soft kiss behind his mask. “Goodnight, Sadie.”

My breath shudders a little, and my response comes out as a whisper. “Goodnight, IV.”

[zukkaoru]

i think. everyone should stop reading my most popular fics that aren't really that good and start reading the ones with 18 kudos that are significantly better

[tirsynni]

So the issue about the right to post criticism on people’s fics have come up again. Okay.

First off, the most obvious thing: unless the person asks for constructive criticism, be very wary about giving it. Again, please, keep in mind: this is fanfiction. This is a story typed out by a fan in their free time and posted online for others to enjoy. This isn’t a work that someone polished with the plan to publish for money. This is a fanwork posted by a fan for other fans to enjoy. Most writers I know don’t want constructive criticism. They want to engage with other fans with a medium they enjoy. “I really enjoyed this and I hope you do, too. Here’s an idea inspired by watching that scene.”

Of course, some writers do want constructive criticism. They ask right in their notes for it, which leads to my second point...

What are your credentials? When it comes to offering constructive criticism, are you confident in your skills to offer it? People tend to be, yeah... and then tell me what they would have written. “This is something I would personally enjoy and I wish you had written this instead.” “This does not match my headcanon of the character and you should have done this instead.” “You should have written the other character as the top.” None of this is constructive criticism. None of this is helping a writer improve. When these thoughts occur, instead of leaving them as a comment, consider writing the fic yourself! Seriously! Go for it! That’s the joy of fanfiction! You want to see something? You can write it yourself!

But really, what are your credentials? Do you know how to edit? Proofread? Did you take classes? Do you have a degree? In what? What’s your personal experience? Can I see your resume? Can you offer constructive criticism in a way which will improve that specific writer’s specific style? Can you help the writer tell the story they want to tell and not you? Because that is incredibly challenging. It’s easy as hell to tell someone what you would like to see in their story. It’s also the reason many writing circles and writing groups fail: too often it dissolves into “This is what I like, so you should change this” or “Well, such and such heard from such and such that this is really important for fiction.” That’s not how actual constructive criticism works. That’s not how you help a writer grow. 

“Well, if someone is writing and posting stuff online, then I have the right to criticize them.” Do you enjoy having so many free works at your fingertips? Would you like to see it happen in the future? Because while you’re free to criticize, that writer is free to stop writing. Writers don’t have to post. Writers can delete existing fics. Writers can and do give up because they are so excited to post their project online, only for multiple people to offer them “constructive criticism,” making them feel like shit, while many other people enjoy the fic but don’t bother telling the writer. 

“I have the right to tell the author what I like.” You also have the right to write your own fic. Which is probably going to be more productive?

“I have the right to tell the author their fic grosses me out.” Great. You also have the right to tell that to random people you meet in the street. Go for it. I personally value the concept of “don’t like, don’t read.” You did choose to deliberately read that fic, after all. That’s all on you. The author didn’t put a gun to your head and force you to read that work.

“I have the right to tell the author their errors.” Did they ask? Why are you so focused on the errors and not what you liked about the fic? I promise, if you tell authors what you enjoy about their fics, that will help them grow their skills far more than criticism. Getting positive feedback encourages fic writing, and practice helps the writer with those errors far more than random people on the internet.

At the end of the day, is your constructive criticism helping? And honestly, is that “constructive criticism” for the author or for you to feel proud about your awesomeness or for you to lift yourself up by belittling someone else? Before you gave the constructive criticism, did you ask the person? Did you value their opinion enough to verify that they wanted it in the first place? Fuck, did you even take the time to ask the person if they wanted a beta reader? Because if someone is happily posting their fic and they didn’t ask for help via a beta reader prior to posting, it might be because they’re more focused on the fanwork itself than grammar and the such, and that’s okay. If you can’t play around with fanfiction, with what can you play around? It’s fanfiction. No life or death seriousness to it!

Generally when someone leaves me constructive criticism, it isn’t constructive. It is that person telling me what they would have written in my shoes. You doing that isn’t going to make me write it. Hell, if people keep it up, writers might not write anything at all.

It’s very popular now to call writers greedy when they want positive comments or engagement with their fanworks. It’s also popular to defend the right to criticize the author when giving a comment. I would really prefer for these people to just write their own fic. Write what they want to see in the world. Maybe it’ll balance out all of the writers not writing because they’re getting hesitant about posting their works or feel too discouraged to even write in the first place.

[cinderswrites]

P R E T T Y :: 30 Fics in 30 Days

10518 / 30000 words. 35% done!

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

This challenge is something I made based off the 30k November challenge. I plan on writing one short story per day every day of November, and since I know I'll probably blow past the 30k mark, I changed the name.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

"Pretty" is a story about feeling unseen, losing motivation, and wanting to let your real self be shown to the world.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

WC: 1,958 :: CW: feelings of low self-esteem, possible dysphoria

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ʚɞ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

“God, can you believe that guy was all over me?”

The door to the hotel room opened as Link stepped through with one of his friends and co-workers, Anna. Their laughter echoed in the large suite as the both of them dumped their belongings onto one of the tables and sat on the couch. As they both settled in, pulling their phones out and checking their influencer accounts, Link looked up and studied her face for a moment.

“He didn’t like… touch you inappropriately, right?” he asked.

Anna looked up and shook her head, “No, he wasn’t handsy at least.”

That made him feel better. While Anna was a model just like him, she was more of the ‘girl next door’, Plain Jane type. He felt awful for even thinking that, but she was beautiful in that way. Meanwhile, he was considered the very definition of ‘pretty boy’, with his blond hair and baby blue eyes and perfect skin.

He stretched out and sank into the couch, letting the silence settle between them. They always shared a room when they were going to be shooting in the same city. It was a way to keep themselves safe, and also not to get too lonely while away from their respective hometowns. One of his tattooed hands reached up to brush through his golden locks as he checked his messages.

He had thousands of DMs from creepy men wanting to get to know him. They were all purely based on the pictures he posted, and the music he shared. That same disjointed feeling settled into him.

wow ur hot let’s hook up

hey baby

why don’t you come to my flat?

such a pretty face deserves to be-

He didn’t finish reading that particular message. By now, his blocked section in his settings held almost the same number of followers he had, which were approaching a million. Even without his influencer status, people tended to recognize him because he had modeled for several large and popular clothing store brands. His face was in every city.

He only became more popular when he started modeling for makeup brands. He was always used as a testament to how well a foundation could provide coverage, given his heavily tattooed body. Link reached up to fiddle with one of his Dahlia piercings, sighing.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Anna glanced at him over her phone.

“Nothing, just… god, I am so tired of all these jerks in my DMs trying to hit on me,” he frowned.

“Any good ones?” she snickered softly.

He rolled his eyes, “Oh, just the usual. ‘You’re hot’, ‘let’s hook up’, ‘I know what that pretty face can be used for’.”

Anna faked a gag, “How do you handle it?” she asked.

“Block,” he snorted. “Instantly. Then just move on from it, I guess.”

“Yeah, but it’s gotta be eating away at you,” she said this in a thoughtless way, her eyes returning to her own phone. “I don’t even get nearly as many messages as you.”

Link clenched his jaw a bit. While he liked rooming with Anna, she… had a tendency to be catty like that. He suddenly wasn’t in the mood to sit in the shared space with her anymore, “I’m gonna shower and probably head down to the lounge. See what’s up.”

“Cool. Call me if you need help or something. I’ll be up for a few hours yet,” she waved him off.

Link walked to his room and closed the door, leaning against it. He tossed his phone on the dresser and headed to his bathroom, turning on the water in the large walk-in shower. Steam filled the room as he slowly undressed. He looked at himself in the mirror, leaning in close to examine his face.

Still perfect.

S t i l l p r e t t y.

With a scowl, he turned away and walked into the shower, wincing at first for how hot the water was, but then he relaxed. Twenty minutes later, he was out and putting on a new set of clothes. A pair of well-fitted dark blue jeans, a black mesh shirt, and a teal plaid flannel buttoned up halfway. He dug through his little bag of jewelry, pulling out a silver chain to wear around his neck. He also put on some rings; they helped if he had to defend himself from any ‘touchers’.

He walked back to the bathroom and combed out his hair, leaving it to air dry. Once he was finished, he put his boots back on, grabbed the switchblade he always carried, and made sure he had his phone and wallet. He left the hotel suite and headed down to the lounge where there was a bar and people to mingle with if he was so inclined.

It was busy, of course. It was Friday night at an expensive resort hotel after all. He waded through throngs of bodies pressing close to each other, the sound of music thumping against his sensitive eardrums. He located the bar and moved to an emptier side of it, sitting on the stool and leaning forward with his arms on the bar top.

It didn’t take long before the bartender came around, asking him what he’d like to drink. “Whiskey and ginger ale,” he said. He was feeling a little more down than usual tonight.

As the bartender moved away to make his drink, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw notifications for several new DMs. His full lips pursed together before he scoffed quietly and shoved the device back into his pocket. He wasn’t in the mood.

Once his drink was in front of him, he wrapped his slender hands around the glass, looking at the amber liquid inside. He took a slow drink, feeling the burn and fizz from the carbonation slide down his throat. His eyes were downcast as he tried not to focus on that disjointed feeling again.

Feeling like the whole world only saw him as eye candy. Someone spoiled with good looks and money to do whatever he wanted with. Someone who had no personality aside from pretty.

When all of it was far from the truth. So far he sometimes wondered what it would be like to reveal everything to the public. How he had been left on his father’s doorstep as a newborn and never knew his mother.

How his father had trained him in the art of combat using knives of different shapes and sizes. Crafting him into the perfect little killer he wanted him to be.

And how, after all that training, his father had abandoned him as well at fourteen. Leaving Lincoln Hayes to struggle to survive and to channel that training in order to get what he wanted and take care of himself.

He scoffed again, shaking his head, and took a larger drink this time.

“Oof, bad night, love?”

The familiar voice made him sit up straight and turn around with wide eyes. Behind him was a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair that curled down around his neck. He had a hint of stubble on his face and kind brown eyes. “Ray,” he blinked. “What are you doing here?”

The man chuckled and walked forward to take a seat next to him, intentionally brushing his shoulder against the blond’s. “In town on business,” he said simply. “I know you like this chain of hotels, so I thought I’d stop by, see if you were here.”

“Oh…” Link turned back to looking down at the glass in his hands.

Ray was an affluent businessman who owned a chain of niche boutiques meant for the wealthy. They’d met when Ray hired Link for a modeling gig and became close during and after the shoot. They weren’t exactly a couple, but they weren’t… not a couple, either. It confused Link, but he didn’t want to trouble the older man with labels and questions.

He didn’t want to be that person.

Ray’s arm wrapped around Link, his hand rubbing the spot between his shoulder blades where he knew Link carried a lot of his stress. “Talk to me, love,” he said in that gentle but rumbling tone of his. “What’s going on?”

“I just… I don’t know. I’m wondering if modeling is even worth it anymore,” he admitted quietly.

“Why do you feel that way?” his friend—lover?—asked.

Link took another drink of his whiskey, thinking about it. “I feel like anyone who meets me just sees the ‘model’ and not ‘me’,” he stated, “and it… I don’t know. I sound like a child, but it hurts my feelings, you know? I’m not just a model…”

“You’re so much more than that,” Ray finished for him. He pulled the younger man against his side in a half-embrace, brushing his fingers through those soft golden tresses. “It’s not my place to say whether or not you should continue your work, but if you’re not finding joy in it anymore… then maybe it’s time for you to take a step back and re-evaluate what you want from yourself and out of life.”

He took in Ray’s words, his head resting against his shoulder, grateful for the comfort and attention he was giving him. If there was anyone in the world that he missed most when he was traveling to modeling jobs, it was Ray. The older man was always there for him when he was around, and not just in a physical way.

“… Thanks,” he murmured, “you always just show up and know what to say.”

“It helps when you always post about what city you’ll be working in,” Ray chuckled again, and the sound made Link close his eyes and wish he could wrap himself up in it.

“Stalker,” he mumbled.

Ray continued stroking his hair, a soft look on his face with a hint of amusement. “Only for you, love,” he murmured, turning to kiss the top of his head sweetly. “Would you like to come up to my room? Spend tonight with me.”

Link pulled away and looked at him, studying his face for a few seconds. “Are you just going to leave again in the morning like last time?” he knew he sounded like a spoiled brat, but he couldn’t help the way he wanted Ray to stay. Even if it was only temporary.

Ray moved his hand to pinch his cheek playfully, “Are you missing me that much?”

“Sugar, I miss you the moment you start walking away,” Link pouted, turning his face away.

“Hm,” Ray hummed, dropping his hand. He tilted his head, looking over Link’s sour expression. “Why don’t you leave with me? Accompany me on some business trips. Take a little break from all this. While you’re away, you can think more about what you want to do.”

Link looked at him in shock, his blue eyes widening. “Y-you mean that? Y-you want me… with you?” his tone was almost whisper-soft.

Ray smiled at him, nodded. “Guess I’ve been missing you just as much, love,” he reached for Link’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Link had to bite the inside of his lip to keep it from trembling. He looked away as his eyes became watery and gave a little nod, “… Yeah. I would love to join you.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll collect your things from your room in the morning,” Ray got off the stool and gently pulled Link to his feet. “Come on, let’s get comfortable and watch a movie or something. Just relax tonight, okay?”

Link stepped closer, hugging Ray around the waist and nuzzling his face into his shoulder. The man always knew just what he needed. “Okay.”

[jamiesfootball]

🌧️ from the jamie telling sam and jan what happened in Amsterdam fic. thank you!!

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

It spills out of him. First like a faucet, but then like a river. An unending ceaseless flow, the glaciers melting and thawing, and cold ice turning into puddles with only the thinnest veneer of glass on top waiting to be cracked. The wheel spins in his chest, offloading water by the bucketful, but no matter how much he talks, how hurriedly he tries to push the words out, the buckets keep filling back up. The wheel spins, paddles dipping deep under the surface, but each bucket is just as heavy as the last. When he reaches the finale, he creaks to a halt. He waits balanced at the teetering top, uncertain of how much longer he can bear the weight before the wheel gives out and sends him plunging down into the dark again. Colin, who Jamie could’ve sworn was asleep five minutes ago, is the first voice to crack the silence. “You’re joking, right?”