#it’s part of a scene for a fic im writing and i have never been so motivated to actually continue writing lmao

[roamingswtor]

I commissioned the amazing @commander-sarahs-art for a piece of Arcann and Reena at a zakuulan party and it is so absolutely stunning I literally can’t stop squealing over it.

[jiyansthesis]

how the fuck do you guys write kissing scenes

[readingwriter92]

me: I should see if I have anymore ideas for a bridgewater fic before the new season starts bc that trailer is getting me excited

also me: what if we wrote out an entire x-men au (bc we're still on that apparently) that's super self indulgent and you'll never get around to finishing???

[maxlarens]

Hi, I have a smau request for Charles (based on c.ai bot lol, and the fact that I love painting), so the reader is invited by her friends to a house for vacation, her friends are all with their s/o and they also always try to set up reader with someone, that's when her and Charles meet, and reader finally gives it a chance because she knows her friends won't stop to set her up. They talk for a whole evening about what they do in life (reader is an artist/painter) and they get along really well. Eventually they get together and reader is very liked by the public, even if there will always be haters, but most fans thinks she's just very adorable (especially because of her insta/twitter posts)

CL: slip up and i call you baby

pairing(s): charles leclerc x artist!reader

summary: you love your friends, you really do. you just wish they’d stop trying so hard to set you up with random guys. [smau + written fic] (read on: ao3) (part 2)

fc: faceless

word count: 5.1k

warnings: mild sexual references

a/n: this is such a cute idea! thank u so much for sending it in!! u will not believe how much this idea gripped me like i never write one shots like this its just unheard of for me if im honest. anyway i know u asked for a smau so i will be doing a second part/continuation to this that is solely an smau to make up for that. (ALSO sorry for disappearing i was super sick for the whole week and have been getting my shit back together in the aftermath😭)

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ynusername italy we are in u!!!

Amalfi Coast, Italy

You’ve never been particularly boy crazy. At least not the same way your friends are.

There have been a few not-quite boyfriend’s over the years, but those relationships never last long. They never really get you, or they never really get the art thing. Which means, of course, that they don’t get you and never will— and that’s fine, you’re content with that. If living for your art means you’ll never be in love then so be it and frankly, good riddance to them.

For the most part, you’ve given up trying. You go on a few dates here and there, but you never let them stick around. Even the ones that seem interested in your paintings you don’t bother with— none of them really seem to be able to grasp what art truly is to you. It isn’t just paint on a canvas, it’s living, it’s breathing. You are only yourself with a way to make art.

It’s difficult to put into words.

So you don’t. Instead, you send texts that say ‘thanks for your time but this isn’t working out’ and you keep the men your friends try to set you up with at arm's length. You placate Chloe and her partner Rowan– who collects friends like they’re Pokémon– with, “he wasn’t my type” and “I’m not looking for a relationship right now”, which you suppose is true, but also isn’t the entirety of it. Yet, every time without fail, there’s a new boy at the scene of the crime.

Chloe doesn’t get it, none of your friends get it. You don’t try to explain it to them. So, y’know, here you are again.

Anyway, here’s the thing: they’re getting closer. Inexplicably, without knowing how you really feel about it all, Chloe and Rowan are getting better and better at picking the boys who are able to tempt you. Which is a pain really, because sometimes you’re trying to have a perfectly nice vacation in Italy without the lure of a boy you can’t let yourself have. But alas, these things generally don’t go your way.

You should know that by now.

Charles Leclerc is bang on the money, he really is. He is unbearably cute, like so cute that you have to leave the room when he walks in, because you don’t trust yourself to be in close proximity to him right now. You have a hard time looking at his face when you are forced to be around him. The dimples when he smiles, the squint of his eyes even when he isn’t. If you look too long you’re liable to stare and that wouldn’t lead to anything good at all.

He’s nice as well. So nice, just like Chloe told you. You try to pretend he doesn’t exist and he still asks you questions about your job and the area of Monaco you live in— like he’s even interested, like he’ll remember you two weeks from now. You try your best to be pleasant, to answer without it being like pulling teeth, and to ask questions of him as well. You’ll probably see him again after this, so best to not to go too far and act like you hate him. It’s difficult though, toeing the line between friendly and encouraging of more. Or it feels difficult for you. Charles doesn’t make even the slightest suggestion of the two of you being set up by your nosy friends. That’s unbearable too. Part of you wishes he’d just make a clumsy pass at you so you can rebuff it and make your intentions abundantly clear. But, obviously, he doesn’t, because he’s perfect or something.

It sucks. You hate him, you think.

Or you want to.

On the second day of the trip, you’re on the villa’s private beach, laying in the hot sun. Chloe, Anaïs and Bea are there; everyone else is either still sleeping off the wine from last night or swimming in the glittering ocean. You’ve got a secondhand book, a 2B pencil and a pair of sunglasses over your eyes. You’re trying to read but you just end up doodling, drawing your friends bikini-clad bodies over the text and shading grapes into the margins. Trying desperately not to accidentally put Charles Leclerc’s dimples, messy hair, or sloped nose to paper.

“So,” Chloe says conspiratorially, as you abort an attempt at drawing a slightly squinted eye with thick lashes, “What do you think of Charles?”

You raise an eyebrow carefully at her over your sunglasses, betraying nothing of your inner turmoil, “I think nothing.”

Anaïs laughs, rolling onto her back, “That’s such shit. You practically sprint away from him everytime he comes near.”

“I do not,” you answer too quickly.

Anaïs laughs again, louder. Chloe joins in and Bea raises her eyebrows at you like you’re a fucking liar. You frown, glaring a little before stubbornly turning your head back to your book. The conversation about Charles ends there, but unfortunately your actions have spoken for themselves. A chill of something like panic chitters up your spine and into your shoulders. You have to roll them to make the feeling go away.

As the sun climbs higher in the sky you lose some people to the heat and gain others. It’s just you and Chloe sweating onto your towels when Rowan and Charles finally give up on whatever game they were playing in the ocean. Rowan collapses unceremoniously into the space between you and Chloe, kicking up sand and getting water droplets all over you like he’s a wet dog. You let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and an exasperated groan as you roll away from him, landing in the sand.

“Watch it,” you cry, “You’re getting my book all wet.”

Rowan laughs, “You’re drawing in it!”

“So.”

He pulls a face at you that makes you roll your eyes; then he turns into Chloe, shoving his face into her collarbone and flinging limbs over her. You snort, leaning over to snag the book off your towel before it gets dragged into the mess that Rowan is causing. You’re about to get up and go inside until you realise Charles is still standing there. Has, in fact, been standing there since Rowan ran over. Your breath catches, heart skipping a beat as you look up to find him standing there.

“Hey,” you smile briefly at him, quickly looking away from his damp hair and bare chest (–which is difficult to do because, holy shit–) so you can gather up your towel.

“Hi,” he replies.

He might smile back. You don’t look. You’re trying to get the image of his washboard abs out of your head. This proves difficult when you clamber to your feet and find yourself face to face with him.

“Are you heading back?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

God, you want to kick yourself. You’re being so awkward, and right in front of Chloe too, who may not be watching but is absolutely listening to you make a fool of yourself in front of a guy you have very firmly said that you are not interested in. It must be clear to him too, that you’re trying very deliberately to not be interested in him. You cant tell what would be worse; if that means he’ll think you’re a weirdo or if it means he’ll take it as a sign that he should make some kind of move.

Ugh.

“I’ll come with you?”

“Hmm,” you blink yourself back into existence, seeing the questioning look on Charles’ face, “Yes, yeah. Sorry.”

You say goodbye to Chloe and Rowan who barely look away from one another, still rolling around in the sand like teenagers.

“Gross,” you say to Charles, as the two of you trudge through hot sand toward the sandstone steps that lead up to the villa.

He laughs, a breathy thing that tapers off with a sigh, “A bit, yes.”

You don’t say anything else, but you find yourself staring at his back and the way his muscles shift and move underneath his tanned skin. At the top of the stairs you part ways, he smiles at you and you offer something awkward in return, trying to pretend you hadn’t been looking at him. You don’t think he notices, but your cheeks red burn anyway.

You don’t see him watching you leave.

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chloegarelli hungover, sunkissed and lovesick

Amalfi Coast, Italy

Dinner is a huge affair, as it always is on these trips.

You, Anaïs and Chloe spend three hours in the kitchen that afternoon making chicken fricassée and about a hundred different side dishes to go with it. Everyone crowds around the dinner table to eat and drink even more wine than the night before. Piero Piccioni plays on the old record player, crackling away as you laugh and talk and tell stories with your friends well into the night. You watch the sun set through floor-to-ceiling glass windows and you wish wish wish that you had your paints right now.

You brought along a set of oil pastels and one of your art notebooks, but it doesn’t compare at all to painting. If you could get your hands on cadmium yellow in all it’s hues, maybe vermillion and a powder blue, your lack of paintbrush or canvas wouldn’t even matter. You’d use your fingers if you needed to. It bothers you so much that you get up in the middle of clearing away the meal and go to your room for the pastels and notebook. You need to get it on a page at least.

You push a few plates to the side, folding out your notebook and immediately marking the page up with a creamy white pastel. Bea teases you when she comes over to take the rest of the dirty dishes, but you just mumble something unintelligible, too engrossed with smudging the sunset into something that looks like what you’d seen out the window. When the oranges and yellows blend to your satisfaction you take the black and brown and draw in the top of your friends’ heads, not thinking about how much attention to detail you’re paying to the shape of Charles’ side profile.

When you’re finished, you’re surprised to see that the table is cleared save for a few half-full wine glasses and a fresh bottle. Only Chloe, Rowan and Charles are still sitting by you. You’re listening to another Piero Piccioni album now, or maybe just the other side of the record. You remember saying goodnight to the others and saying yes to a glass of wine, so you’ve not been totally dead to the world, but it’s all in a bit of a haze.

You think this might be part of the reason why you can’t hold down a boyfriend. The disappearing into your art like you cant breathe until it’s finished. That may as well be the case if you’re honest.

You sigh, wiping your stained fingers on the next blank page, then you take a long sip from your glass of merlot, pretending you dont notice the others’ eyes on you.

“All done?” Chloe quips, somewhere on the border of teasing and being annoyed at you.

You look at her, your eyes just narrowing enough for her to notice. She does and purses her lips. You raise an eyebrow to ask okay, what’s your fucking problem? And you see her eyes flash to Charles. You follow her gaze to see him and Rowan pretending to look disinterested in your answer. Charles is tracing the base of his wine glass and absently biting the inside of his mouth. You have to tear your eyes away.

“All done,” you answer, tone clipped, before gathering your things (including the wine glass) and leaving the room in a move you hope doesn’t come off as too rude.

At your back you hear Rowan ask Chloe, “What was that?”

Chloe means well, you think as you wind through the villa, making your way to the balcony overlooking the private beach. She wants you to be happy and she thinks you need a boyfriend to be happy. But she’d found the love of her life in Rowan after only a few years of dating around and she doesn’t quite understand that it’s never going to work like that for you. There aren’t enough people out there that understand the kind of passion you have for your art and certainly not many that would also be compatible with you. You’re fine with that, but Chloe doesn’t know what to do with it. Especially not now she’s cottoned onto the fact that you have some kind of interest in Charles. It’s killing her.

It’s irrelevant though, whatever interest you have in Charles doesn’t factor into anything. He’s cute, he’s nice, but so were the dozen boys that you’ve already dated and not continued dating. So really, Chloe needs to stop pushing it because it’s pissing you off. You’re here for a holiday, not to be forced into conversations with a guy you don’t know. If she needs to have an argument to finally understand that, then so be it. You’ve been friends for years, it’ll blow over eventually.

You flick a switch and blinking lights illuminate the balcony. Fairy lights are wound up the posts and draped on the awning, intertwining with the lush green vines that have grown up through the wood slats. The air is balmy and the breeze light as you settle into one of two cushioned chairs situated by a coffee table. It’s perfect. You spread the oil pastels out next to your glass of wine and set your open notebook on your crossed legs, listening to the sound of waves lapping against the shore.

You’re alone for what feels like a long time but is probably only an hour or two.

When the sliding door clunks open you expect it to be Chloe coming over to have it out, but it’s not. Instead, Charles slips through the gap with the rest of the wine gripped in one hand.

“Hi,” he greets, smiling at you in a way that makes dimples carve in his cheeks, and dashing any hopes you have that he’d walk right past you.

“Hey,” you forget yourself for a moment and bite your lip on a broad smile.

He holds the bottle out toward you, offering more. You lean over your notebook and hold your empy wine glass up in acceptance.

“Merci,” you say, and in a moment of weakness (and probable wine drunk-ness) you gesture at the plush chair across from you.

Charles, somewhat caught off guard, looks between your outstretched hand, the chair, and your face, before shaking his head almost imperceptibly and finally taking a seat. Despite his apparent shock, you find it hard to believe he’d come out here simply to offer you some of the last of the wine. Surely, this is Chloe and Rowan’s doing. Though, strangely, you cant quite bring yourself to care.

He sets the bottle on the coffee table, next to your oil pastels. You lean forward to place a few back in their rightful spots, snagging your wine glass as you go.

Charles eyes’ scan your face for a moment, searching for something you suppose, then he points at your notebook, “Have you been drawing?”

You nod, “Mmm.”

You think perhaps the answer is a bit obvious. He seems to realise this, you watch a blush spread onto the top of his cheeks and he flutters his eyelids slightly, almost like rolling his eyes at himself. You don’t think about his eyelashes, thick and dark as they brush against his cheekbone, and you don’t think about his eyes, the lights reflecting off them, making them sparkle.

“What are you drawing then?” he asks after a moment of collecting himself, an edge of embarrassment to his voice.

You give in easily to the strange urge you have to show him, grabbing the notebook off your lap and holding it out for him to see what you’d been scribbling in the book for the past two hours. You let him take it off your hands, ignoring the spike of anxiety. He holds it gingerly, like it's a precious artefact (of course, to you, it is), which makes something warm bloom in your chest. You take a sip of wine and gesture for him to flip through a few pages, which he seems hesitant to do without permission. The book is angled in such a way that you can see most of the page, so you’re content to let him. Or at least you are until he flips to the page you’d started when you’d first come out here.

Panic drops like a stone in your gut because he’s looking right at a fully rendered drawing of his eyes. It’s in amongst some pillars strung with lights and covered in climbing vines; your best attempt at capturing the way the beach looked earlier in the day; and, perhaps your saving grace, Chloe half asleep on her towel. But the drawing of her is haphazard, it’s half-scribbled and half-finished, whereas the one of Charles eyes’ is as detailed as the sunset scene you’d done the page before. It had been something you just needed to get out, drawn in one of those hazes of yours. You’d felt better after it was done, your hands had stopped feeling like they were itchy.

Now, you itch to snatch the notebook off him, but you fear that would be even more incriminating. So you watch him look at the page and try to sit with the panicked feeling spreading in your chest.

Eventually, he points at the page, “Is this me?”

You bite your lip, breathing slowly through your nose to try and abate the blush spreading up your neck. You don’t say anything exactly, just shrug and rock your head back and forth in a kind of confirmation that doesn’t really admit anything. Though, there’s no denying the drawing is him.

“It’s good,” he says, seemingly stumbling over the words, “It’s very good.”

You frown into your drink, “Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

You know he means it. It’s not that.

“Yes,” you put down the wine glass, looking at him but avoiding eye contact, “I know. I know it’s good. I’m just… I’m embarrassed,” you admit.

He furrows his eyebrows– or it’s more that he squints and his eyebrows fold in with it. You watch his tongue dart out to run across the top of his bottom lip and you stamp down the less than innocent thoughts that come bubbling up at that. He waves the hand that’s not still holding carefully onto your notebook about for a moment, trying to conjure up words that he doesn’t have yet.

Slowly, he says, “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. I– It’s–”

He’s about to say flattering, so you cut him off, not wanting to hear the tone of it, whether it be pity or something else entirely.

You try to explain yourself, “Things get stuck in my head sometimes. Like after dinner,” you reach forward and flip the page back one, to the sunset, “I have to get it onto paper. Or… or… it just runs laps in my head for the rest of eternity, I guess. I don’t stop thinking about it.”

You cringe internally. You’ve just told him that you were so consumed by thoughts of his eyes that you had to draw them immediately. That is perhaps worse than just wanting to draw him because you thought he was cute. Charles raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised by your admission, but there’s perhaps also something sincere in there? You can’t pinpoint it, but it makes you feel a fraction better you think.

You sigh forlornly, “That’s weirder, huh?”

He laughs, properly laughs, and it sends some strange feeling skittering down your spine, “No. No, I get it. I don’t have any way to get it down as quickly as I’d like, but I definitely understand the feeling.”

You bite the inside of your lip, hesitant but still curious, “You understand the feeling? Really?”

“Yes,” he smiles easily now, relaxing more in the chair after he places your notebook onto the counter with a cautiousness you still don’t expect, “For me, with racing, it’s like I get an idea and I can’t sleep until I try it on track or talk about it with someone. Some of them don’t work, or aren’t possible, which is fine, but if it sounds right to me and it checks out with the people that it needs to, then, well, then it literally does run laps in my head.”

You laugh, mostly to yourself. You’re not sure yet if he understands what you’re saying, but he’s trying. That’s more than you can say for a lot of people. You try not to let that thought linger for too long.

“You think it’s similar?” you ask in a way you desperately hope comes across as curious and not accusatory.

He hums, waving his hand around again for words, “Perhaps. I think the urgency is the same. The passion is the same. Do you ever feel like something terrible will happen if you can’t–”

“Yes,” you’re a bit breathless in your haste to agree, to talk about this feeling with someone who understands, “Yes. I do. It’s like I need to put it somewhere before I lose it. Otherwise, it won’t be perfect, or it’ll be too late.”

“Exactly,” his eyes seem to light up, for a long second you watch the flickering lights reflect in them, “Exactly.”

“It’s never as good as I want it to be,” you admit, finding it easier to look him in the eye now that some strange barrier between you has been broken, “It’s never quite how I imagine it in my head.”

Charles points at your notebook, “These are very good, really. I don’t see how they could be better. But,” he shrugs, “Eh, I will win a race and still think of everything I did wrong.”

You nod eagerly in understanding as you lean back into the chair, finally relaxing into the cushions. It’s strange to have this conversation, knowing you’re talking about two entirely different careers, but feeling like they’re so similar. Maybe it’s just you and Charles that are similar, maybe your jobs have nothing to do with it? You don’t know, you just know it’s nice to feel like someone gets what you’re talking about.

Charles continues, speaking like he’ll explode if he doesn’t get this off his chest, “It’s there all the time, do you know what I mean? Maybe I’m not thinking about it every second, but it’s always there waiting for something to draw attention to it. And people ask what else is going on in my life, and of course I do other things, and I enjoy other things, but I want to be on the track. I want to be driving whenever I can.”

You nod again, more subdued now, “Mmm, right. I want to be making art all the time, and when I can’t it’s like missing a limb. To me art is– it– it’s like–”

“–breathing,” he finishes, almost the lilt of a question to it, but not really, it’s like he knows exactly what you mean… how you feel.

You exhale, long and slow, “Yeah. Like breathing.”

Both of you are quiet for a little after that. You’re trying not to stare at him, but it’s not easy. He’s looking at you almost blatantly and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks the longer he stares. The air feels thick with some feeling you can’t place. All you know is there are butterflies in your stomach and a smile keeps pulling at the edge of your pursed lips.

The smile takes over as you catch him starry-eyed in your peripheral vision, you mutter, “Stop that. Stop looking at me.”

“Why?”

You tip your head back so you can’t see him looking at you, “Because.”

“Because?” he laughs breathily, shaking his head at you, “Okay, well, tell me if I’m misreading anything, but I’m pretty sure that drawing of me in your notebook says something, at least.”

You run a hand down your face, sighing loudly, “Yes, okay. I suppose it does. But– I–” for a moment you struggle for the right words to explain yourself, “I guess I’m not really looking to date anyone.”

He tilts his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows and looking for all intents and purposes, like a confused puppy, “You guess?”

You nod, resisting the urge to just launch over the table and grab his face. He is very cute and he is making this so hard for you.

He sucks his teeth briefly, shrugging, “I’m not really either.”

“Alright,” you say, “Good.”

As over as that should make the issue, strangely enough it doesn’t feel like you’re done with Charles Leclerc and it certainly doesn’t feel like he’s done with you either.

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Amalfi Coast, Italy

You try to avoid Charles after that, you really do, but he doesn’t quite let you.

For a few days of the holiday you give him pointed looks and purse your lips a lot when he’s around. Chloe catches on straight away and that makes it all infinitely worse until she finally realises she might need to leave you alone (yeah, shocker). When Chloe finally forces everyone to get off your back about Charles, it becomes much easier to be around him. You’re not glaring at your friends while they make eyes at you, or worrying if you’re acting weird; you’re just allowed to be.

It’s nice. He’s nice.

But you knew that already.

Neither of you are looking for a relationship so there’s no pressure for it to be anything at all. But you have this sneaking suspicion that perhaps both of you are looking for a relationship with eachother regardless. You try to ignore the thought.

On day five, you’re sitting together on an outcropping of rock that overlooks the ocean and you’re letting Charles doodle in your notebook with a ballpoint pen. The bare skin of both your arms are pressed together, they stick with sweat from the hot midday sun but neither of you seem to care. As you watch him doodle inexpertly you can smell him— salt and sweat and whatever cologne he uses masking the very faint scent of burning rubber. Your hair, still damp, brushes his forearm, you wonder if you smell of acrylic paint and mildew from all the water cups you accidentally leave out for your paintbrushes.

You reach out to trace a line he’d made, “Here, it should be more like…” you taper off, taking the pen from his hand and quickly fixing the curve of the beach before handing the utensil back.

“Hmm,” he hums, giggling a little, “I guess that looks better.”

“You guess?”

He nods, “What if I had a very specific vision?”

You raise an eyebrow in disbelief, leaning back to look him in the eye you tease, “A vision. Did you?”

He tilts his head down to look at you. You’re very close now, you can feel his breath fanning over your face. In the reflection of his sunglasses you watch your lips part slightly and your eyelids flutter. Your chest grows tight with anticipation and maybe a little bit of panic. Still, you reach out and slide his sunglasses up to settle in his hair. You’re a little careless, but you like the way his hair pokes out from them at odd angles. As he breathes out you hear it catch for a split second.

“Did you?” you repeat, knowing he won’t remember what you were talking about.

He blinks twice, still staring at you, “Hmm?”

“You said you had a vision,” you breathe.

“Oh,” as he says it, his eyes flicker down to your mouth, only for a second, but it’s long enough to you know you’re done for.

You both lean in at the same time, your noses sliding off each other in your eagerness. You breathe a kind of laugh into his mouth and you feel him try to suppress a smile against your lips. It’s slow for the first few seconds, just you and Charles figuring out how your mouths fit together. His mouth is warm and wet and so soft, and it’s easy to lose yourself in it. You move the hand that had adjusted his sunglasses, sliding it up his shoulder to the back of his muscled neck. Your fingers weave into the short hair at the base of it, your nails scratching absently there. He groans, ever so slightly into your mouth and it sends heat skittering down your spine, into the low of your gut.

The hand of his that isn’t clutching onto your notebook slips forward and winds around to press at your bare back. He pulls you closer to him as you slide your hand up to cup the back of his head, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Soon it’s a mess of tongue and teeth and Charles blindly shoving your notebook somewhere it wont slip into the water so he can grab you with both hands. He tastes like red wine and coffee and you love the way his fingers dig into your skin and the way his teeth have been grazing at your bottom lip, like he wants to sink into it.

You’re almost in his lap when you’re forced to pull away for air.

Foreheads pressed together, you breathe heavily into the space between you. Your hand is still stuck in his hair and one of his on the small of your back, the other holding your knee. The sides of your noses touch, you nudge yours against his affectionately, tempted by the proximity of his mouth.

He laughs and you feel it against your lips, intermingling with your own breath, “Alright. That was–”

“Yeah,” you finish, dipping forward to kiss him again.

You’re lost for another few minutes. Tongue and teeth and the sound of the waves crashing against the rock behind you. And his hand on your jaw and in your hair and pulling you closer closer to him.

He pulls away this time, turning his head to press your cheeks together, mouth at your ear, “So,” he drags the word out with a laugh, “are you looking for a relationship now?”

You snort unceremoniously, and tease, “Hmm. I guess I would be amenable to that.”

“You guess?” he asks— but not really needing to at all because you can feel his dimples pressing into your cheek as he smiles knowingly.

You nod, smiling too, “I guess.”

🎨 yes of course i made a playlist>> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6cAJaZjvK0V7SrmxoMosBX?si=ADlJGHxxQYKnlZ1jWFJxfw&pi=a-AI0MKbo3RTqE

taglist: (pls message if you'd like to be added to the taglist for charles. my yuck! one is full so need to start a new one😭)

[foreingersgod]

you’re caroline harvey fic absolutely ate. please write more for her there’s such a lack of fics 😫

Scaredy Cat . CH

pairing: caroline harvey x reader

A/N: i had to rewrite this 3 times because it kept sounding super awkward, so if this is horrible, im sorry LOL

“maybe we should watch something else, babe…” caroline offered from the spot next to you on the bed. she had an arm wrapped lazily around your shoulder, legs tangled with yours under the sheets “it’s gonna get you scared and then you won’t be able to sleep”

it was a simple date-night-in on a gloomy saturday. the rain pouring heavily outside made it impossible to continue with your original plans, forcing you and caroline to resort to a movie night in your shared apartment. in all honesty, you didn’t mind-you’d much rather snuggle up in bed with your girlfriend, snacking on a half eaten box of pizza and throwing on a show. you had been scrolling through netflix for what felt like an eternity until you came upon the horror section, recognizing a movie poster that you thought looked quite interesting. you turned to caroline with a pleading look, begging her agree to watch it with you. but she knew you more than you knew yourself and was quite quick to suggest something else.

she knew you were jumpy person, easily paranoid over little things, so she was aware that watching this movie wouldn’t end like you thought it would. you always claimed to like horror movies-love them, in fact-but without fail, you’d end up shutting it off before it even got to the good part. she thought she’d spare you of the jumpscares and inevitably the nightmares you were sure to have by picking a different movie.

“but it looks so good!” you pouted, bottom lip jutting out as you gave her your best puppy dog eyes. a look you knew she could never refuse “i promise i won’t chicken out! please?”

she rose her eyebrows at you, head tilting to the side in distrust. but you doubled nonetheless as you continued your pleas.

“alight alight, fine” she agreed, rolling her eyes “but i don’t want to hear about how scared you are when we go to bed, got it?”

you smiled almost instantly, shaking your shoulders in excitement and pressing play on the movie. your body scooted closer to caroline’s and your hand found its way to her sweatpant-clad thigh. an off key, eerie music emitted from the screen as the movie began to roll.

“i’m a woman of my word” you said, waving her off “it’s probably not even that scary, i’m sure i’ll be fine”

famous last words.

like caroline had expected, your excitement was short lived. only 20 minutes had passed before you were jolting in your seat and clinging onto her arm. it took all she had to not burst out laughing every time one of the jumpscares took you by surprise. she noticed how your hand squeezed her bicep every time one of the scenes got increasingly suspenseful, how you would cover eyes with one hand with your fingers parted slightly.

finally the movie ended after a huge plot twist, resulting in you letting out a relieved sigh. just like you had promised, you made it the entire way through.

“so,” caroline began, watching the credits take over the screen as she turned the TV off. she looked over to you, fear practically radiating off of your body “was it worth it?”

“yea” you nodded as you chewed on the inside of your cheek “not bad at all”

it was quite obvious that you were lying. from the meekness of your voice to the extensive clingy-ness, caroline knew that you were more deceiving than you intended to let on. but despite that, she wanted to let you have your moment of pride and let you workout the fright yourself.

“y’sure? you’re looking a bit pale, babe. gonna make it through the night?”

“i’m fine!” you shrugged it off once more, slumping down on the bed and pulling the comforter up over your body abruptly. sleep seemed to be the only thing to soothe your mind. your feet found company with hers as you grappled for any source of comforting touch “can we just go to bed now?”

caroline obliged as to not press any further. you wouldn’t be a happy camper if she had proved you to be wrong. she followed in your actions, nuzzling into bed and pulling you flush against her chest like she always did. for several moments, it seemed the world was silent for the night. trees rustled outside your bedroom window, the frame of your apartment building creaking with each whoosh of the wind, the quiet breathes of your girlfriend hitting the nape of your neck softly. it was like any other night, drifting off to sleep with one another, until caroline felt you tossing and turning.

“YN,” she mumbled, half asleep. she sat up using her elbow to prop herself up as she gently shook your arm “what’s going on, you keep moving around over there?”

you muttered something into your pillow, your words incoherent to caroline. the restless movements of your limbs continued as she tried asking you again, only to be met with a defeated whimper.

“what?”

“i said,” you finally removed your face from your pillow, craning your neck so she could hear you better “i really need to pee”

“you-” she shook her head “if you need to pee, go to the bathroom…”

“but i can’t”

“why not?”

“because,” an embarrassed whisper escaped your throat “i’m too…scared to get up”

her infectious laugh bounced off the walls of the bedroom. a sound soothing enough to make you forget about the pressure on your bladder for a swift moment. you groaned as she carefully pulled the duvet down the bed.

“alright, scaredy cat” the bed dipped as she threw her legs off the mattress, feet already planted on the plush carpet “come on”

“huh?”

“i said come on” she was now on your side of the bed, searching in the dark for your hand blindly. she gripped it softly as she tugged you out of bed “i’ll go with you”

“you don’t have to do that” she guided you towards the bathroom with her hand still grasping onto yours. the ground beneath you creaked with each step, causing you to stay on high alert. you felt caroline’s thumb rub small circles on the skin of your hand to let you know she was right there with you.

“no,” she said, flipping the switch to the bathroom lights and ushering you in. she found residence on the sink counter, her legs kicking carelessly in the air “but i want to”

you couldn’t help but smile, a rosy blush creeping onto your cheeks. caroline had to the be the sweetest person on the planet. not everyone was so fortunate to have a partner that would escort them into the bathroom at 2 am after watching a scary movie. you did your best to keep the bathroom break short, doing your business quickly as you felt guilty for waking your girlfriend up.

“better?” she asked as you washed your hands.

“much” you sighed before facing her, letting your arms drape across her shoulders as you melted into her embrace “thank you, baby, you’re the best”

“anything for my girl” she grinned. the scent of her berry chapstick lingered on her lips as she leaned into you, placing a chaste kiss to your lips “but that was the last time you’re watching a scary movie, i told you that you were gonna get scared”

“okay whatever” you joked, releasing her from your grasp as you headed back to bed “maybe i just wanted you to protect me”

you both climbed back under the covers, the mattress below you still warm from your weight. the night was still peaceful, everything just the same as you had left it. your bodies fell back into their typical positions as you placed a hand atop her chest.

“mmm” she mumbled, burying her face in the crook of your neck once again “you know i always will”

“yea,” you said, feeling how her heartbeat slowed under your touch, indicating she was nearly asleep. with heavy eyelids, you let yourself do the same as you drifted into a similar slumber “i do”

[reidmania]

hello!! ok so, i was wondering if i could request a fic that is based around autumn/ october/ halloween because spencer loves spooky season and i fuck with that, anyway, so could you tie that detail into smth kinda like your “everywhere everything” fic fluff wise because i went feral for that one lmao. feel free to ignore if youre not up to it, but i’d love to read what youve got if you do write this. 💙

EVERYWHERE EVERYTHING | spencer reid

part one, part two

summary; spending the week before halloween & going to the pumpkin patch with Spencer in your home town.

warnings; pure love sick fluff, talks about home towns, established relationships, fem reader, halloween, mentions of driving, rushed ending sorry!!

an; i decided to make this request a part two to the everywhere everything fic bc the next verse just fits so well i think?? but it can be read without reading the first part. and that whole song feels like love in autumn!!

im also australian and we dont celebrate halloween like americans do, ive never been to a pumpkin patch so please bare w me during this.

'Drive slowly, I know every route in this county, maybe that ain't such a bad thing I'll tell you where not to speed. It's been a long year and all of our book's pages dog-eared We write out the ends on our palms, dear. Then forget to read, we didn't know that the sun was collapsing 'Til the seas rose and the buildings came crashing. We cried, "Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh" Everywhere, everything, I wanna love you 'til we're food for the worms to eat 'Til our fingers decompose Keep my hand in yours'

"Slow down" You huffed out as Spencer turned down a road you knew all to well, it was familiar and came with a sense of home in place. It was the same road you remembered your father being pulled over everytime for speeding, the same road you had been pulled over on when you had first gotten your licence.

Spencer did as you told him, after sitting in the car with you for an hour mumbling about where was and wasn't safe to go a little faster than the speed limit, he knew to listen. This was your home, you knew it better than he would.

He even refrained from correcting some of your 'fun facts' abot your home town. Purely because listening to your excitement while talking about it made his heart too happy to say anything.

"You know we have gone past about three different pumpkin patches on the way" Spencer asked, raising his eyebrow softly as his head turned from the road to look at you for a moment before turning back to the road.

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile taking place over your lips. “Yes, but, this one’s the best. We are literally two minutes away. Please don’t complain.” You muttered with a smile.

The air between the two of you was warm. It lingered with peace and quiet love, the sort that didn’t need to be shouted from a roof top because it was whispered through the way Spencer’s hands reached to grab yours, the way his eyes danced between you and the road, the way the music playing was what you enjoyed rather than the normal radio he would let play in the background.

It didn’t need to be shouted because it was whispered through the way Spencer’s face lit up when he parked the car and looked out the window, the way he turned back to you with just about the widest grin you think ever possible, the way he leant in to place a gentle kiss against your forehead before he got out, walking around the car to open the door for you.

“Pretty right?” You grinned up at him as his eyes took over the scene, the leaves that covered the ground around your feet all the prettiest shades of orange and yellow, the scent of cinnamon filling the air around you, as patches and patches of pumpkins laid in front of you, all surrounded by a brown picket fence.

He just placed another kiss on your the top of your head, clasping his hand with yours, fingers interlinked between one another. The smile on his face and look in his eyes said more about his excitement than words possibly good — so you didn’t mind the lack of response as you began walking towards the patches.

“I wanna find the biggest one.” You mumbled out, looking around the large patches. There was families, friends, other couples surrounding you but your focus was on nothing but Spencer, and finding the biggest possible pumpkin.

Spencer snorted as he looked up at from patches, to look at you. He took in how you looked curled into one of his knitted sweaters, arms wrapped around your torso in order to shield you from the autumn breeze.

“I think that kid just took the biggest one”

You furrowed your eyebrows and spun your body to look behind you to where a kid was walking — To be fair the pumpkin his dad was holding was pretty big, but the smile on the kids face when he jumped around holding hands with his mum made you not mind so much.

“Well.. I’ll get the second biggest” You settled. Spencer smiled as he shook his head, tugging you slightly closer by your hand to pull you into his chest. His hand left yours as his arms came to rest around your waist.

You laughed, as your hands came up to his upper back and the back of his head gently. The two of you swayed side to side for a moment. “Happy?” You asked, silly question. You could feel it radiating off of him.

He pulled his head away to press his forehead against yours, his nose knocking yours lightly as he scrunched up his face for a moment, before pulling back to look down at your face. His lip quipped up into a soft smile. “Very.”

You lean back, his hands moving to hold onto your hips as his thumb slipped up under your sweater, his sweater. His thumb ran small circles over the skin in place. Your smile widened, heart exploding as your skin burnt under the cold of his fingertips.

“Come on, I want to find the perfect pumpkin. We should have a pumpkin carving competition this year, that would be so much fun” You rambled as you pulled away from his touch to walk around the lines and lines of pumpkins.

He laughed, “We should.” He agreed softly, because why would he ever deny you what you wanted, especially something to do with halloween.

He watched as you bent down to run your fingertips run gently along one of the pumpkins in the row: It was a decent size and probably would be simply to carve since he knew your mind was now hyper-fixated on the idea of pumpkin carving instead of finding the biggest possible pumpkin.

“Actually- Did you know each year 150 million dollars is made from pumpkins, and 98 percent of that is from people who purchase them to make jack-o’-lanterns, and 46% of amercia—”

“How many is that?” You cut off as you look up at him from where you were leant down to look at the pumpkins. He smiled.

“A hundred and fifty four million” He answered without even having to think about it. It never failed to stun you. You hummed allowing him to continue on telling you his facts.

“So 46 percent — Or A hundred and fifty four million people, in America make jack-o-lanterns every year. During Halloween the most reason for injury is actually because of pumpkin carving.” He stated.

You stood up, a soft smile on your face as you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Well maybe people should be more careful. I’ve never gotten an injury while carving a pumpkin” You hummed out.

He snorted, taking your hand gently. “Have you ever carved a pumpkin?” He asked, raising his eyebrow.

You gasped, “Yes- Actually!! I have.” You said, your voice an octave higher than normally. He smiled, nodding his head in disbelief which only caused you to shake your own.

The rest of the day consisted of you and Spencer walking around the pumpkin patch, making jokes and laughing with one another, you even tried a pumpkin, cinnamon cookie from a stand nearby.. Safe to say you weren’t too fond of it.

But you were fond of the way Spencer’s eyes shone in a different sort of way when the two of you finally picked out a pumpkin each, the way his mood seemed unwavering during the fall season.

You loved him, and you loved halloween.

[hijackalx]

I need a breeding fic with Gortash. like him putting you in a mating press and just saying nasty shit like "give me a baby boy" or "your ganna have so many of my fucking babies" holy shit I'm ganna faint he's so mmfg

I WANTED TO WRITE THIS FOR U BUT IT TOOK SO LONG IM SORRY 😭😭💗 also i hope u like spit cuz i saw the opportunity and took it SORRYYYY 😹😹

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

UNDER THE CUT: F!reader, breeding kink, spit, mating press position, some degradation and praise, dom!gortash, you’re basically his baby-making machine, he refers to reader as ‘woman’ and ‘girl’

Gortash doesn't do anything without planning first. He's always a step ahead; he knows what the future holds because he decides it.

And sometimes you wonder where you belong in his grand scheme. What does he have in store for you? All of his meddling behind the scenes— he’s a puppet master, playing your unsuspecting figure by the strings of his jeweled fingers.

It would be sensible to ask, but like a true visionary, he isn’t keen on being questioned. He'll blow you off as sweetly as he can, cradling your face and assuring you that you needn’t worry about such things. Despite his facade, you can tell it bothers him; you can see the irritation behind his gaze.

You'll admit, it can be a little intimidating being with someone like him, simply because you never know just how much of your relationship he's manipulated and plotted into fruition. You're stumbling around in the dark, clinging to his wrist for stability while forgetting that he blindfolded you in the first place.

When the next stepping stone of his intricate plan is revealed, you feel it's all too obvious. You realize the crucial part you play, and how integral it was that he didn't scare you off. No doubt you were plucked from a plethora of suitors, carefully considered for your purpose. You think you should feel flattered.

You lay on the silk sheets of his bed, spread open and waiting. Your bare skin is soft and scented, a flame spreading over the surface as you watch him approach. He crawls over top of you, the mattress giving with each movement. You swallow at his looming presence, how he locks you between his strong arms.

Thumb coming up to tease your bottom lip, he leaves a lingering kiss at the corner of your mouth.

"I'm going to make you the most valuable woman in Faerûn." He smiles before rocking back on his knees. Another kiss is left on your ankle as he props your legs against his broad shoulders. "Isn't that right?"

His features are gentle but his eyes are dark— intense. You can tell this is something he's been waiting for, something he's been heavily anticipating. You wonder how you were never able to pick up on his faltering restraint before; he looks like he's wound as tightly as he can be.

His tip plays at your entrance, smearing precum against your heat. You throb, aching for him, but you can tell by his smirk and the slight tilt to his head that he's waiting for a response.

You nod readily. With that, he angles and inserts himself into you. Gasping, your fingers bunch up the fabric beneath you as he stretches you out inch by inch. "Gods..." you mutter at the feeling of his cock slipping past your walls.

You stare at his face while he watches how your pussy strains around him, admiring how his thick, black hair hangs from his forehead, how the corners of his sloped nose crinkle slightly; the concentrated furrow to his brow, and the small parting to his lips. You did get lucky, didn't you?

Out of all the men who'd want you to carry their child, you were picked by him; a powerful man, body and mind, who is certain to pass on his traits through you.

You struggle to take him in further, the width near his base stretching your opening uncomfortably. Without hesitation, he cups his hands under your knees and pushes them to your chest, resting his weight onto you. He manipulates your figure on instinct— as if it's his, as if he owns you.

Your body is forcibly spread deeper, allowing him to sink into you the rest of the way. The new position almost takes the breath out of you, eliciting a surprised whimper from your lips.

He sighs contently as he fills you fully, the warmth of your needy pussy engulfing his cock. He finally starts to move his hips, rocking you on the mattress as your wet cunt squelches around him.

You gaze up at him through your knees, watching his lip curl at how tightly you grip him. "Fuck," he hisses. "You're perfect. Fucking perfect," he almost seems to be muttering to himself, his eyes unable to break away from where you two meet between your thighs.

He picks up the pace, his heavy balls hitting you with every thrust. You leave behind bits of your essence in his hair, the slick coating his ebony strands.

His hand releases one of your legs to snatch you by your jaw. The aggression catches you off guard, and for a moment you wonder if you've upset him. Under lowered brows, he grins.

"You're going to be my personal little broodmare," he laughs breathily before interrupting himself with a grunt. "And you'll give me as many baby boys as I want— won't you, sweet girl?"

His fingertips leave indents in your skin, and he appears too distracted by pleasure to know how rough he's being. Still, you don't mind— men with gentle hands don't sit on thrones. "M-mhm," you do your best to respond under his hold.

He slips his thumb between your lips, pressing down on your tongue. He coerces your mouth open until it's fully extended, staring down at you.

"Yeah? You like the way that sounds?"

His nail digs deeper into your tongue with every second you take to answer, his expression bordering on wicked. Unable to speak, you nod vigorously.

The corner of his mouth pulls upward, his brows lifting briefly. "I thought you might," he says before leaning over you, encasing your body in his shadow. Without warning, a quick wad of spit comes flying out onto your tongue. "Whore."

The warm substance lands and spreads over your tastebuds. Only after he admires how it looks in your mouth does he release you. He stares down at you expectantly, so you hold his gaze and swallow.

As he watches your throat bob, you feel his cock twitch inside you, a low groan vibrating in his chest.

Your body writhes with want beneath him, with need. You feel the way your cunt repeatedly tightens around him, trying to draw out his orgasm.

He can feel it too, and you know he won't last much longer. Soon he'll be filling you full of his cum— again, and again, and again— ensuring that, without a doubt, you'll be pregnant. You'll carry his heirs, securing his rulership with his bloodline.

You never saw yourself as mere breeding stock before. And you most certainly never saw yourself enjoying the thought of it. It sends a surge of heat through your body, a tremble through your limbs. You yearn to be of use to him— to his success.

"P-please," you stutter, gripping his bicep tightly. "Come inside of me. I need you to come, please—" Your words come out quickly and almost incoherent, stumbling over your own burning desire. You need to feel his thick, white seed lacing your walls.

He almost coos at how ready you are for him. "Fuck, I love hearing you talk like that."

His hand slips down the back of your thigh so that his thumb can toy with your clit. His touch isn't the softest, and it makes your sensitive body jolt with every rub. Still, the timing of it has you questioning if he's rewarding you for your begging. You wouldn't put it past him to condition you that way, so that your cunt's always desperate to be filled.

He places his hands on either side of your head, hooking your legs over his elbows. His face is now inches from yours, and you can see the lustful haze over his stare. It's dark, almost wolfish, but it only excites you.

You're so ready for him to finish, just so he can do this all over again.

You wrap your arms over his muscular shoulders, holding onto him while he fucks you. Your body is at his mercy in your vulnerable position, completely pliant to his every whim. You almost shiver at the thought— not from unease, but arousal. Your eyes flutter shut.

The bed creaks with his tempo, mirroring the needy movement of his hips. His breathing is uneven and wavering by your ear, accompanied by the occasional grunt or moan. The sounds of his pleasure send a wave of excitement through you, and you can tell by the rapid snaps of his pelvis that he's close.

Your voice evolves into whimpers as you feel his orgasm approaching, anticipating being filled with a steady stream of cum. With a hiss through gritted teeth, he slams into you hard, pumping white ropes into your cunt. You rhythmically tighten around him, milking him for every last drop.

The feeling of him filling you up makes your limbs buzz with exhilaration, and the knot in your core finally snaps. You tear and claw at his back while he ungracefully rides out his own orgasm, pushing his seed into you further and further.

After his final sloppy thrusts, his body stills. He rests above you, the arms supporting him tense and slightly weary. His breaths fan your cheek, warm and ragged, indicative of his high. You would almost think he was spent, if it weren’t for the fact that he still hasn’t pulled out of you.

You focus on the way his cum settles inside you, threatening to leak. It’s so much— you find it hard to imagine fitting more. Still, he smiles down at you with an endearing obstinance that says he’ll find a way.

You realize you’re in for a long night.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

[10:02pm] - aphelios & sett

a/n; in which i make aphelios silly skrumblo than he already his. test run for writing league. but it's heartsteel phel so, it's probably gonna be fine. i loved watching the bloopers. it was so cute, i need more. they should make a small web series like how kpop groups have their small web series where they do random shit or vlog ugh. im totally gonna write that someday.

[ooc phel and sett????] [i threw in poly! settphel in here despite wanting to make it a solo phel fic]

aphelios is really bad at getting your attention normally.

which is fair. you and alune are busy being the limited staff for heartsteel. you help yone work the technicals [and filming] and alune is more of the social part of managing.

but since their debut was nearing closer and closer, you have been more occupied with your manager duties. kayn had been especially chaotic during filming, causing you and yone to attempt to fix everything that was broken by the others.

to summarize, it has been a very long week for heartsteel.

mostly for the quiet boy since he has not gotten some much-needed love and attention from his lover. he could've gone to sett for that love and attention, but the redhead offers more than enough of it. and also he took too many takes for his scene, and phel swears he can still hear the ringing in his ears from the bell.

he's been trying to get your attention now since it's been much less busy, but he hasn't had much luck.

poke.

poke. poke.

you feel cold fingers poke at your face as you rest on bed, completely exhausted. you don't really complain about the comforting hands that gently cup your face until you feel a familiar pair of lips on yours. aphelios watches your tired eyes open and squint at him before you give him a small smile. "hi phel.."

he can't bring himself to be mad at you from the lack of attention with how sweet you look. he can't help but sigh before settling right next to you on the bed, head resting on your chest and body curling up close to you for warmth. there's never much need for words when he's so endearingly expressive. his lips jutted out just a bit in a cute pout as he looked up at you with pleading eyes, a surefire sign of him wanting your attention. "where's sett?" you murmured, gently playing with phel's hair.

aphelios makes no sign of an answer, tugging the blankets to cover you and him better. he even goes as far to lay right on top of you, trapping you in his hold. "phel.." you whined, "i just wanted to know where he was."

the look in aphelios's eyes says everything you need to know, "i need attention."

you can only smile as you finally give him his needed attention. "okay, okay, i'll stop. but you know i just woke up from my nap. what am i gonna do?"

you get no response as expected as the silent man presses his face against your chest, not caring to even spare you another glance. "god, what am i gonna do with you?" you mutter fondly. "with you and sett.. wait until he starts getting all clingy too.." placing your hands on his cheeks, "absolutely insufferable." you joked, squishing his face.

"babe! i lost aphelios!" you're holding back your laugh as sett barges into your shared room. he reminds you of a sweet doberman who just loves their owner. "have you seen him-" aphelios shifts under the blankets, head peeking out to look at sett, annoyed. "oh. uh. hey phel." sett smiles sheepishly. "i forgot that you wanted to be with them today because they've been so busy."

you laugh, "don't be mad, phel." he sends you a look before burying himself under the sheets once again and clinging onto you. "at least let sett join. i haven't given him much attention either. especially after what happened with some of the props during filming." you sighed, remembering yone scolding to the boys and alune laughing behind the camera.

the blankets shift before the blue haired mute opens a side of the covers to let sett in. and ever the energetic and excitable boyfriend, he almost looks ready to dive straight onto you and aphelios. but he holds back, shifting around awkwardly as he moves onto the bed. he finally lets his excitement out, reaching around to hug both you and phel the best he can. "god, i missed this."

"it was only a week, big guy."

"longest week ever!" he groaned as you feel aphelios nod in agreement.

"you two are so dramatic." you slam a poro plushie against sett's and aphelios's head.

"you love it!"

[dear-slim]

i just keep thinking about Eminem reacting to this new rapper girl (that he have been helping out in the music industry) and she releases a new song that is full Slim Shady Coded and he gets shock

(me & friend keeps talking abt this but we can't find anywhere a fic like itt

Warnings: swearing

Pairing: Eminem x fem!reader

A/N - MY FIRST REQUEST 😍😍 I gotchu boo, and excuse the cringe song name I made up at 10pm, half drunk and half asleep.

Also ChatGPT made these lyrics so don’t mind me

And, I wasn’t sure what you meant by slim shady coded, like, as in, something slim would sing or something related to him.

Dating another rapper wasn’t really what you expected when you joined the industry. Of course, it came with its classic ‘she’s only famous coz of Em’ bullshit, but you never paid mind to it.

Both you and your boyfriend knew perfectly well that you were a hit even before he’d entered the scene with you. All he’d done was promote your music with you, all of which was your own shit.

In his own words, he’d done nothing but be a good and supportive boyfriend, and he was right. Now, you usually ran your songs past Em, you wanted to know his thoughts and if he could make them better. After all, trust the pro, right?

But this song was a little different. You didn’t even know how you’d managed to keep it under the wraps, writing down lyrics in your notebook and staying up past when Em had fallen asleep to brainstorm lyrics.

Em was a key part of your life, he was helping your throughout the rough patches in your career, and the little surprise you’d planned was definitely something he deserved.

“Yo Em,” he heard a voice as he walked into the studio. Usually he’d hang with you, so he was pretty surprised when he heard a male voice coming from behind him, as he turned to see his long-time friend, 50.

“What’s good?” Em said, a little dazed, as he gave his friend a fist bump nonetheless. “Was just listening to some samples from your girl,” 50 explained as Em raised a brow.

“Some samples, hm? What song? She ain’t been writing one for a bit,” Em said, his eyes narrowed a little suspiciously. Em managed to catch a CD that 50 had thrust had thrust chest, as he walked over to the player, still a little bemused.

It was unlike you to keep a song hidden from him, as the tune to some song started.

Welcome to the circus, where the clowns run free,

Life’s a wicked game, and I’m holding the key.

Got the world on a string, watch the puppets dance,

In a realm of absurdity, I’ll take my chance.

Holy shit, that was crazy. He hadn’t expected a sudden change of style…and wow, it was damn hot, actually. He found his cheeks tinged a slight pink ad he thought about it, how you’d look in the studio, with the lyrics…

Yo, I’m rolling with the Shady, chaos in his eyes,

Life’s a wild ride, no need for disguise.

He’s a lyrical genius, wrapped up in a mess,

With a heart full of fire, but he’s got his stress.

He’s the king of the madness, got me feeling alive,

In a world of illusions, he’s the one who’ll survive.

With every twist and turn, I’m right by his side,

In this rollercoaster life, it’s a hell of a ride.

Em had to genuinely take out the CD, coz this was madness. He’d have never expected to see this from his girlfriend, even if you were a badass rap artist, but this was crazy. And extremely hot, at the same time.

“50! I said wait til I was here to show him,” he heard your voice as he turned round, eyes locking in yours, his lips parted in shock slightly as you flashed him a grin. “So?” you said, asking for his opinion as he spluttered, unable to formulate a sentence.

“Im taking that as a good sign,” you laughed nervously as he coughed. “A good sign?” he said, jaw going slack as he stared at you, “baby, this is amazing, this is gold!”. A proud smile jumped to your face at his words, cheeks tinged red.

“You think?” you asked a little sheepishly. “I think? No, baby, I know!” he said, hands coming to squeeze at your shoulders. This was gonna be a damn hit, and he was not complaining. Simply, just, further proof his girl deserved to be in the game.

[osarina]

I CAME SCREAMING AND RUNNING WHEN I HEARD YANDERE DAZAI OMLL HOW DO YOU PERSONALLY SEE YAN!DAZAI??? cause theres so many ways to characterize him if he becomes Yandere especially if you compare and contrast his PM and ADA self

... here we go. yanzai my beloved - i dont think u guys understand how insane i am over him. anyway, i'm not making this one as long as i planned to because (surprise) i've planned out a two-part fic for this that i want to write when i'm done with civilian!dazai, and i dont want to spoil it. hehe.

but. in general, i think even non-yanzai would be veryyyyy possessive over his lover. yanzai is on an entirely different level though - and even WITHIN yanzai, i think pm yanzai and ada yanzai are entirely different monsters and i mean that so literally. but first, in general, possessive, very manipulative. yanzai has likely found his reason to live in his lover and he's NAWT about to let that go.

yanzai in general would tend to lead toward manipulation through guilt and isolation, i think. i don’t think any version of yanzai would ever get violent with his partner and i stay heavy on that belief. he’s got more of a tendency to treat you like you’re something fragile that could break at any given moment.

also i'm going to split pmzai into two - canon pmzai (ages 15-18) and then pmzai in an au where he never left the pm. so the order i'm gonna talk about is canon pmzai, canon adazai (as a direct follow up to canon pmzai), and then im gonna talk about pmzai au where he never left the pm.

for the purposes of this, assume that reader joined the pm when they were young

canon pmzai

so first i want to talk about how it probably starts, because i could sooooo very much see this starting while he & his lover are young. since this is canon, i imagine they meet at around 15/16 like i have dazai & pmreader meeting. dazai's clearly a lot more unstable during his early pm years and i think his obsession with his lover could start with something really minimal tbh. maybe they shoot an offhand compliment to him, or stop to pick something up that he dropped, and dazai is just so alone & isolated by mori atp that he just completely fixates on this person because they’re the first one to ever say/do something kind for him, as small as it may have been.

i think it would even start out harmless, spends a lot of time thinking about you, daydreaming. maybe he even steps in on missions for you - which he notably doesn't do for anyone because he doesn't want to do more work than he has to. but something would happen that eventually triggers the shift from harmless to a veryyyy dangerous obsession. maybe you got critically wounded on a mission, or maybe you start spending time with other people—whatever it is, it just flips a switch in him because he realizes that he is not about to loose you and he doesn't care what he has to do to make sure of it.

on this topic ^^ maybe this is a hot take, but i think canon pm yanzai would be entirely more dependent on his lover compared to adazai. adazai is still dependent, but not to the extent pmzai is. i know people hc him as hyper independent, which i also mostly hc for him, but i think if he's found someone that he's attached himself to like this, he’s young enough that he'll quickly become codependent on them, and that obviously scares him which makes him even more intense with his yan tendencies.

that being said, i still think that he would be careful to not alert you to any shift of his mentality. he'd be very hyperaware of keeping a good image in your eyes, so everything he does do is going to be behind the scenes. he'd probably work a lot with isolation and trying to make you as dependent on him as he is on you—justifies it by telling himself that it's not fair that he can't live without you but you can live without him LOL, won't be satisfied until he's inclined enough to believe that if he was gone you would be ruined without him (which comes into play when he leaves the mafia). he also makes sure that the missions you go on - if he even has you going on any - are all easy AND he makes sure he's overseeing them. probably phrases it as just a shift in command, assuming you were someone else's subordinate first, and you don't really have any reason to think anything of it.

i think he'd keep a really tight hold on his image up until the events of dark era, that whole ... week ? i assume its about a week, of everything going down with ango and oda just tosses him into a mental spiral and he'd probably let the mask slip a few times in front of you. i still don’t think it’s enough for you to really question anything—not until he leaves, that is.

now moving on to adazai - but first, the underground years:

we're gonna assume that you stay with the pm when he leaves. i think he'd spend a lot of his underground years honestly just keeping an eye on you from a distance. i think he'd be like very back and forth with how he feels, like a part of him is soooo satisfied that you're so broken about him leaving but then the other part of him has him wanting rip out his own throat for being the reason for your distress. he'd be rlly hyperaware of you "moving on" from him. his go to would be driving people away from you, like it was while he was with the pm but it's a lot harder now that he has to be a "ghost" so to speak, so i think he would target you yourself more often. and it would be little things, like whenever he sees you start talking to someone new, he'd leave little things around your apartment to remind you of him. maybe pictures you'd taken together, or small trinkets, anything to make you remember him and trigger you back into that spiral of missing him. BUT that being said, i think he would be very careful to ensure that you don't realize it's him leaving these things around, so he'd go through your apartment and look for stuff and would lay it out carefully to make you think that you just happened to leave it out.

i think over the course of his underground years, you start to realize that whatever you had with dazai was not healthy and how he acted with you was not healthy, and dazai does take note of this in his 💀 long hours observing you, which is why he’s so careful to keep up his new mask with you when he inevitably meets you again (read below).

OK now adazai

adazai is interesting. i went back and forth with this a lot, but i think adazai would really utilize his new job & demeanor as a tool to make you come back to him/fall for him again, especially if you’d started to put things together during the years he was gone. he frames his leaving it as how it was just something he had to do, look how much better he is now, he’s healed & hes good now, and he didn’t know what else to do because he knew his mental state wasn’t healthy back in the mafia. <- i think this would be important specifically because you would take note of how he acknowledges how incredibly possessive and weird he was with you, and in your mind, someone who acts like that probably wouldn’t see anything wrong with it, so the fact that he acknowledges it would be a green flag in your mind because maybe he has grown.

he also would probably hit you with a few guilt trips like he didn’t even know he meant enough to you to make you care about whether or not he was there. he’d be veryyyyyy sweet and honeyed with his apologies and pleas for forgiveness, and he’d be patient too. if you weren’t open to listening to him the first time you run into him, he’d orchestrate several other “run ins” over the next few weeks, whittle down your guard until he can finally claw his way back into your skin.

once that whole first stage of “winning you back” is over, dazai would quickly return to old habits although, however careful he was while in the pm to keep a good image in your eyes, he’s 100000x more careful now. because now it’s beyond just not letting you see the “demon prodigy”, he’s been advertising himself to you as a good, changed man and he has every intention of maintaining that image in your eyes. so yeah, he might be using access to cctv cameras to stalk your every move and yes, he’s slowly but surely driving everyone away from you, but in your eyes, he’s a detective who spends the saving people and that should never waver in anyway.

i think one notable difference is that adazai’s first big goal is going to be to drag you from the mafia, so while he is isolating you from people in the pm, i think he wouldn’t be so quick to isolate you from the members of the agency. in fact he would even encourage it to an extent - as long as they know their place 💀 - until he gets you to leave the pm, that is, then he might start to isolate you altogether again.

adazai likes to fashion himself as a bit of a savior to you i think. he saw how you spiraled without him, and came back to you, promising to never leave you again, apologizing for ever having have. gets in your head by making comments about how he didn’t even know you rlly cared about him like that.

^^ he’ll drag u from the dark shadow of the port mafia and tuck you right into his own shadow instead. and yeah, it might be just as dark, but at least he’ll be there to to make sure some light is peeking through cell bars of his “love”.

nowwww pmzai who never left the mafia.

i think i’ll keep this one short because imo i feel like this would just be canon pmzai without bothering to keep the whole front up in front of you. he doesn’t really care to hide his obsession over you - what are you going to do about it? run? he’s not going to let you do that, and he knows you don’t want to do that anyway. this pmzai is even more unstable than canon pmzai - i imagine he still lost oda, but then failed to even fulfill his last request by leaving the mafia and going to the light, so instead he focuses all of his energy onto the one person he has left: you.

forget missions. you’ll be lucky if he ever lets you leave the pm hq again. people die for looking at you the wrong way - whether it be pity, concern, or “envy” (because dazai is paranoid and thinks everyone is trying to stealing what’s his). sometimes you make comments about it to him, wanting to go on missions & talk to people again, and it triggers breakdowns in dazai that you can never tell if they’re real or fake - panic attacks over losing you like odasaku, begging you not to leave him too, etc. you don’t know if these are real, but he’s got you so tight around his finger already that the off chance that these aren’t manufactured to guilt you into dropping the subject is enough to make you give in.

[floral-and-fine]

Have My Heart

Enver Gortash x Fem Durge Reader

Summary: y/n wakes in Enver’s bed and finds herself covered in blood as well as parts of the room, but she is unable to recall what happened and assumes the worst.

A/n: Thank you @bhaalbust for all the suggestions and help with this fic! Really made a difference❤️ if I write any more bg3 fanfic it’ll probably be for other characters that you can’t romance in the game. Enjoy!

Warnings: Durge related violence and content and lemon

Y/n sighed in her sleep, her body was heavy but her mind was oddly at peace, lost in a dream of being elbow-deep in the guts of a cadaver, their insides still warm and fresh. She could practically feel blood splatter on her face as she pulled them apart, fingers wrapping around soft organs and squeezing. Her lips tugged upward in a giddy smile, allowing the wave of ecstasy and satisfaction to wash over her as she admired her work. The faceless victim, with dead eyes and a slack jaw, laid beneath her, y/n could almost still hear their screams ringing in her ears.

Rolling onto her side, she hummed appreciatively recognizing her favorite scents surrounding her, blood and… Enver’s cologne. It was a dark and smoky fragrance that encapsulated power. Without giving it much thought, she buried her face further into the pillow breathing in deeply.

Her fantasies shifted from a scene of gore to one of lust and passion with her lover. Enver’s bare body was pressed against hers, the only thing he was still wearing was his gauntlet. The cold metal tickled her cheek as his fingers pushed back a few stray hairs from her face.

She could feel his tongue leaving a trail of saliva as it swept over her sternum, up the mound of her breast, and then teased her nipple, his teeth playfully nipping and tugging at it. His warm wet mouth ventured higher, arriving at the tender flesh between her neck and shoulder, without hesitation he bit her, hard, mercilessly, teeth bruising her skin before they punctured through drawing blood. Y/n gasped at the sudden pain, her back arching off the bed, followed by a low moan. Enver chuckled, nuzzling his nose against hers before he kissed her with her blood still on his lips.

She never knew what to expect from him, he seamlessly could go from tender and loving to harsh and devious and back again. And she loved it, it kept her on her toes, constantly anticipating what he’d do next, wondering whether he would bestow upon her more pleasure or more pain.

Enver sat up on his knees between her thighs, his eyes roaming over her body with a look of ownership as he placed his hand by her throat. The sharp tips of his gauntlet on his thumb and middle finger traced her collarbone.

Y/n bit her lip, peering up at him to see the smug expression on his face. It was no secret how much it pleased him, the control he had over her: his assassin, his partner, his lover.

This was an unforeseen affair, to say the least. She never expected that anything could come between her murderous desires and depraved thoughts, but here she was dreaming about him instead of murder.

Enver’s other hand adjusted her thigh, in order to position his cock between her folds, his fingers curled around her neck. As he slowly entered her, he simultaneously applied pressure to her throat to match his pace. He groaned as he bottomed out, fully sheathed within her. He was still for a moment before he began to move his hips.

Y/n’s hand gripped his wrist as he fucked her faster and choked her harder. Through blurry vision, she gazed at the man she adored. The one who had accepted her in a way that she never believed was impossible. He appreciated her efforts and self-control, validated her work, and trusted her.

Gods, she loves him.

Y/n moaned shamelessly, her eyes were still shut, but her body was now very much awake, she reached a hand out in search of her lover, only to find his side of the bed empty.

It was then as if a switch had suddenly been flipped, snapping y/n out of her dreams. She immediately sat up, eyes wide as it dawned on her that this place, his home, shouldn’t reek of blood and death. Her eyes darted around the room, streaks of red painted the walls and bed sheets. Bloody footprints stained the carpet, and her hands and hair were covered in dried blood.

Had she finally done it? Her worst nightmare fulfilled?

Everything went quiet as she sat alone with her racing thoughts. Y/n had been so careful, she was killing in droves, slaughtering men, women, and children to satiate her urge and protect Enver from herself. But was it still not enough?

She felt sick to her stomach.

It was unfortunate how being chosen left her with no choice, or at least it felt that way. Compelled almost every moment to do her father’s bidding, plagued by thoughts that all led to violence.

It was only a matter of time before this alliance would fail, that one would betray the other, but still y/n had hoped that they would’ve been able to accomplish their plans, and even more so she had hoped that this partnership would’ve lasted longer, much longer.

…

Enver rubbed his tired eyes and stared at the presumably romantic gesture that y/n had left for him at the bottom of the staircase in the center of the foyer. It was a graphic arrangement of bloody limbs and intestines in the shape of a heart. He tightened the belt of his silk robe as he circled around his surprise gift while admiring his lover’s twisted handy work.

At the tip of the heart were clasped hands, obviously belonging to different victims, that had been roughly amputated according to the jagged edges. He could only assume that that was part of her loving message, perhaps something along the lines of staying together even when being torn apart, but that was all speculation, he wasn’t what one would call well-versed in her uniquely violent language.

Gifts and surprises like this weren’t an entirely new occurrence, he had previously awoken to find similar presents such as human hearts tied together with ribbons sitting on his nightstand or strange yet sweet messages scrawled in blood on his bedroom window. But this was by far the most extravagant declaration of affection to date.

He lifted his brow, noticing the trail composed of severed ears, fingers, and toes. He figured rose petals would’ve been far too cliché for his little killer.

Now where did they lead to, exactly?

Enver followed the path, careful not to step on any unpleasant bits of flesh with his bare feet. Perhaps he should make a habit of putting slippers on before leaving his room if this becomes a regular thing.

Arriving at his study, he came face to face with 3 heads impaled on spikes, proudly mounted over the fireplace. It only took Enver a moment to recognize the lifeless faces, they were his competitors, former black-market weapon dealers like himself.

A small part of him was a bit envious that they had met their end without him present, that he had no say in how to prolong their torture, and that they didn’t die knowing that he was the reason behind it. Of course, this was nothing he couldn’t get over, he knew that y/n made the bastards suffer before ending them, but still if it had been anyone other than his bhaalspawn interfering with his meticulous plans he’d probably have them killed or severely punished already.

“Well gentlemen, I’m sure the three of you were just as surprised as myself by this outcome,” Enver announced to the heads decorating the mantle. “But we all knew one way or another that I was always going to come out on top.”

He smirked to himself, filled with a sense of gratification, aware that his lover did this for him. It was a different sort of pleasure compared to when he’d send y/n to kill, she did this unprompted and it was that much more meaningful.

Perhaps later she’d give him all the gory details. Y/n was always eager to relive her kills with him. Typically she’d return from an assassination and immediately start filling him in while stripping out of her clothes right before straddling his lap. This was definitely a beneficial aspect of their relationship, that she got off on murder while he got off on power and control.

“You’re alright,” y/n murmured from the doorway, seeing Enver standing there in his black silk robe, his back turned to her as he stared at the heads on display, it was a beautiful sight, better than all the gore and horror she saw on the way here, which in actuality brought her no joy and only added to her panic.

“Hm, oh yes, I’m fine,” he started, eyes still focused on the severed heads. “can’t say the same for these fellows… seems they met a grisly fate at your hand. Impressive work as always.”

She stifled a sob that immediately drew Enver’s attention. A combination of emotions that she had been fighting had worked their way to the surface, relief, fear, guilt, but mostly just she was just grateful, grateful that he was unharmed.

“I thought- I thought I killed you,” y/n confessed.

He lifted a brow, unfamiliar with the sight of seeing her so shaken. The typical cold analytical look in his eyes was gone and replaced with concern. “Probably just a bad dream,” he said in an attempt to be sympathetic.

Y/n shook your head, “I don’t remember these killings.” She gestured to the unfamiliar faces behind him. “I must have killed them while blacked out, but I shouldn’t have, I’ve been slaughtering and maiming all over the city.”

She took a deep breath. “I must have killed them because I can’t kill you, I won’t kill you, despite the urge compelling me to,” she explained.

His gaze fell upon her, studying her in such a vulnerable yet wild state, naked, eyes bloodshot, hair knotted, dried blood staining her arms and legs, but she was still beautiful in a dangerous sort of way.

“Have you considered that these unconscious killings aren’t a tribute to your god but rather for me?” He asked. “Or do you typically create heart-shaped atrocities for Bhaal?”

It was practically inconceivable that such a perfect and powerful specimen would love him to such a degree that she’d choose him over her god and rebel against her very nature for him. All this blood and gore was a testament to how much she cared. Y/n was truly his.

“For weeks now you’ve been leaving me unconventional gifts and love notes,” Enver explained further. “Do you remember any of them?”

“No,” she whispered.

He smirked moving closer to her, “You subconsciously killed 3 of my biggest competitors and brought me their heads, it’s quite thoughtful in a way, a wonderful present.”

Enver tilted y/n’s head up, his lips lightly kissing along her jaw. “Thank you,” he whispered into her ear.

She closed your eyes as he cupped her cheek, the familiar touch of his fingers stroking her skin had a calming effect. Y/n leaned into his hand, taking in the warmth of it.

“Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll get someone to take care of that. But first,” he said. “Let’s get a bath ready.”

There was comfort in knowing he’d take care of everything including herself. Life as a Bhaalspawn was lonely. Any sort of friendship or family ended in death or abandonment. The only people with whom she interacted were Bhaal’s followers and her butler, Scerleritas Fel. She was honestly scared that she was going to be alone again.

It was so nice having someone who wanted more from her than murder, who saw that she was capable of more, capable of being a partner and a contributor.

She opened her eyes and placed her hand over his, giving her love a rare genuine smile, it was almost sweet if she wasn’t also looking like a wild animal.

Y/n slipped past him and moved towards the fireplace, looking up at the mantle with renewed vigor, her lip twitching upward as she watched a glob of congealed blood drip from the head in the center. Gortash moved behind her, tenderly sweeping away her hair from her neck before placing his lips on her shoulder, his teeth grazing her skin.

“Appreciating your own work?” He asked, knowing exactly what sort of effect it had on her. With a firm hold on her hips, he pulled her towards him, her ass now pressed flush against him, with his silk robe being the only barrier between them.

Flashes of the faces, contorted in absolute agony, appeared in her mind. She could practically hear their screams all over again, they were deliciously ear piercing.

Y/n reached up, her hand clutching the back of Enver’s hair as she twisted her neck to meet him in a sloppy kiss. Her nails scraped against his scalp and he smiled in response, loving how desperate she was for contact, to taste him, to feel his skin.

Her free hand yanked on the belt of the robe to loosen the tie. Quickly, he shrugged his robe the rest of the way off, letting it pool at his feet. His hands immediately returned to her hips, grip tighter than before as he rubbed his hardening cock against the smooth curve of her ass.

She started to breathe harder as his fingers traveled closer to her pussy, which was already slick. She whined, rubbing her thighs together as she anticipated his touch.

“Always so ready,” he purred, his ring and middle fingers finally delving between her lower lips, stroking over her clit lightly before increasing the pressure.

Y/n rutted against his hand as he teased her, fingers expertly circling around her little bud. Enver moved his fingers lower, pushing his middle inside. She was obscenely wet, her cunt squelching as his finger moved in and out.

“More,” she gasped, as he added another digit, stretching her tight hole wider. He was an expert at finger fucking her, moving and curling his fingers just that herlegs turned to jelly. She had to lean against him for support to keep herself from falling to the ground. She cried indignantly as he suddenly removed his hand from her pussy.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Enver commanded, giving her a little shove. “I want you right here.”

Y/n didn’t waste a second, following his orders and lowering herself onto the floor. From this angle, she could better see the grotesque innards of the neck muscles and bones. She suddenly recalled that she had not been gentle when separating these heads from their bodies, she had stabbed over and over, ripping and tearing as she further mutilated the corpses. It had been such a rush.

Teasingly, y/n wiggled her ass in the air, more than ready for Enver to fuck her senseless.

“So needy,” he murmured, taking his time as he sank onto his knees behind her. He placed his hand at the base of her spine and caressed her back without hurry, prolonging the moment, before abruptly grabbing a handful of her hair and jerking her head back. She whimpered, at the slight sting.

The tip of his erection was now so close to her entrance, making her even more aware of how empty she felt. “Ready?” He asked.

“Yes,” y/n hissed as he tugged her hair harder.

Closing his eyes as he eased his cock into her warm velvety cunt. “Mmm,” Enver moaned, “So good.”

His pace started out slow and leisurely, once again taking pleasure in being in control while his poor lover was on the verge of being delirious, longing only for release. Despite him fucking her at such a painstaking rate, she was already so close to coming. Her hands balled up into fists, her nails digging into her palms.

“Faster, please,” she begged.

Instead, Enver stilled, his cock only half in. He couldn’t help but smile as she pathetically whined and tried to rock her hips back to fuck herself. But the hand that had been resting on her hip stopped her, squeezing it firmly.

“Say it again,” he instructed, not at all hiding his smug tone.

“Please,” she mewled. “Fuck me faster.”

The sound of her crying for him was music to his ears. Finally, Enver complied, pulling on her hair as he thrust back in, he bucked his hips harder and faster. Her juices were dripping from pussy down her thighs and onto the floor.

She didn’t last much longer, her walls clenched as came. She collapsed onto her chest, cheek pressed against the floor, her body limp and heavy after her orgasm.

“Oh, that’s it,” he groaned, feeling her cunt practically milking his cock as it spasmed around him.

Enver continued to fuck her, using her more roughly as he chased his own release. Her body slid back and forth against the floor, her sweaty skin creating some friction as he pounded away. His teeth began to grit down as his orgasm approached.

Quickly, he pulled out, his load landing on her back and sullying her even further, dried blood and now semen decorated her body.

“I think you’re in desperate need of that bath now, my dear,” he chuckled.

Y/n slowly sat back up, sitting on her knees, she could feel his cum sliding down her back. She turned towards him and her eyes narrowed, “I should cut you open for teasing me like that.”

Enver laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous, you loved it, every single moment of it.” He leaned towards her and brushed his lips against hers in a simple kiss.

After getting cleaned up, they returned to bed. Y/n rested her head on Enver’s shoulder, fingertips grazing over his skin and playing with his chest hair. The sound of his voice was steady and warm as he talked about the next steps of the plan. She felt grounded with his arm holding her by her waist and her leg draped over his.

Soon, she knew that she’d have to go out and find a victim to satiate her urge, but for right now she wanted nothing else than to be here.

[purple-obsidian]

hi so sorry if this is awkward asf im genuinely so bad at asks lmfao-

but i wanted to know your take on how you think both reader and ak!jason would react to jason having a nightmare? the pt2 to the ak!jason fic ended with them sleeping side by side and i was just wondering like what you think would happen if jason has a nightmare while sleeping beside reader. would he be embarrassed or angry, and try to lash out, or would he be cold and nonchalant and pretend he's fine? idk its just a thought thats been floating around in my head recently!!

i love ur fics esp ur jason fics all ur works r genuinely so good and i love reading anything you write. anywayss have a good day/night!

hi there rose!

i am so glad you asked. plz never apologize, your asks are always welcome, awkward or not. jason has nightmares frequently, as mentioned in part 2:

He’s insisted on having you stay with him, but sharing a bed is a luxury you’ve been without, being forced to sleep on the couch every night instead. It’s surprisingly comfy, but good rest is still hard to come by, given the frequent, violent nightmares that plague your boyfriend’s mind and make him cry out in his sleep.

so it wouldn't be a first time for reader. but this is the first time her and jason are actually sleeping in the same bed since they've been reunited, so it's a good question to ask.

i imagine that the first few times she woke up from his night terrors, reader tried to comfort him and offer support, but jason lashed out at her, similar to how he did after the scene in the bathroom after she patched him up. so reader got used to just leaving him be, not bothering to get off the couch. it hurts her though, knowing that he's suffering and she can't help.

but now that he's allowed reader this new level of intimacy, would reader feel bold enough to try and comfort him again? lets say for the sake of your question, yes.

and my answer is it depends on what the nightmare is about. if it's a vivid nightmare [as described above] reliving a traumatic memory of his torture, jason would most likely be more worked up/fearful and therefore take a bit longer to calm down once he wakes up. he'd probably be embarrassed, as as soon as he's regulated his breathing and become aware of where he's really at, he'd shrug reader's loving touch away and be standoffish. it's just something he isn't ready to talk about and he scared to be so vulnerable around her.

if it was a less violent/vivid nightmare, where he wakes with a start but isn't hyperventilating or panicking, i think he would deny it and tell reader to go back to sleep even though reader can obviously tell he was in anguish. i don't think, at this point, he would allow himself to accept reader's comfort, but he's let his guard down enough that he wouldn't like get violent or yell at her for trying to help unless she pushed him.

i dunno. i feel like it could really depend on the day. i'm portraying jason's emotions as especially tumultuous, so any of your suggestions could be a fair guess too! he keeps reader on her toes, fr.

i'm happy to hear that you love my fics! thanks for being patient with me while i work on what's next.

xoxo sid

[princess-weasley]

request: i always think about how modern au ron would handle having a baddie gf. i feel like he attracts the type too. the type of girl who always looks her best, w a lil ‘tude but he’s always trying his best for her. and she lovessss her cute, adorable goofy mannnn. i feel like he’d be sooo protective of her too, i just love the idea! can i request something around this idea? thanks queen. - i hope this is what you wanted babe! 🤍 also thank you for the specificity in your ask!! this is what i mean when i say be specific.

𐙚 princess speaks; making this part blurb, part hcs because my writing skills are awful when it comes to full fics (which this ask deserves to be) so how the pair met will be a short blurb, and then i will add some hcs 🤍 ron’s dialogue will be red, and readers will be pink!!

ron weasley x baddie reader

——————————————————————————————————-————————

ron weasley wasn’t someone you would consider to be “jealous”, he certainly had his moments. but when it came to you, he found himself constantly jealous. you were extremely attractive, and most girls wouldn’t say the same about him. but to you, he was perfect. you wouldn’t be with him if you didn’t like him.

when the two of you had first met, which had been at a party. parties weren’t really his scene, but his mother begged him to attend so he could keep a watchful eye over ginny. so he went.

at the party he stuck out like a sore thumb. tall, redheaded boy, just standing off to the side. maybe he was just shy, which coincidentally was just how you liked them. you walked over, two beers in hand, your heels clicking against the wood floor.

“beer?” you offered up one to the boy. there was a look of uncertainty on his face, but you still held the beer out, waiting for him to grab. reluctantly he did.

“thanks” he said with a smile. you grabbed him by his hand and found a the nearest couch to sit on. he was shocked to say the least, but he certainly didn’t stop you. after sitting down you grabbed his beer, opening it. then cracking yours open as well and taking a sip.

“im y/n, and you are?” you questioned, never breaking eye contact.

“ron, ron weasley” he answered.

“mkay, and what’re you doing here, ron weasley?” you said, placing your hand on the redheads shoulder.

“i was watching my little sister, but she’s over there snogging with some boy..”

“mmm i see. why don’t you have some fun of your own? let the girl live a little.”

“i don’t see why not..” he said looking at you.

the two of you talked for hours (and maybe participated in some snogging of your own). at the end of the night you’d had to ask for his number of course, with him being shy and all. but you’d definitely be seeing him again.

that was over a year ago. after a month of hanging with each other, you’d asked him out. given you never thought he’d work up the courage to ask you.——————————————————————————————————-————————

𐙚 ron w baddie girlfriend; she has been a major confidence boost for him. she is his biggest hype woman. and since meeting her, he has made tons of new friends.

𐙚 ron w baddie girlfriend; he’s super comfortable in this relationship, he’s even willing to participate in pda (you love to show off your man! and he adores you for that)

𐙚 ron w baddie girlfriend; loves hearing you turn down men at parties because why would you want them, when you have your perfect boyfriend?! after a while, boys know to not even approach you.

𐙚 ron w baddie girlfriend; he adores your style, even though he knows people may hit on you. he knows you won’t let them get near you.

𐙚 ron w baddie girlfriend; you have endless photos of him kissing you (especially on your neck) and you on his lap. he never participated in such things with any other girls.

𐙚 ron w baddie girlfriend; you couldn’t care less who saw the love bites on your neck, if anything you flaunted them. your man loved you. why shouldn’t you show that off?

——————————————————————————————𐙚 love, princess weasley

[drivestraight]

hi!!!!

so, obviously im here to talk about eat them alive cause i genuinely haven’t been this insane about a fic since all to play for was published. I decided to read it yesterday night as a lil treat because I love your writing, even though I was very much weary of the landoscar tag (i unfortunately do not get the hype, but ill try anything once 🤷🏼‍♀️). WELL. little did I know that the landoscar tag would be the LEAST of my worries.

im a firm believer that oscar piastri is, in fact, just as batshit crazy as any of them and boy did you do that justice!!! the oscar pov? Sensational, literally everything I wanted AND more: I often feel like in fics people get tricked by his personality and tend to make him very flat, gray and boring, but you wrote him exactly how I wanted to see him. A very calculating person who also feels things deeply, ruthless to the point of almost being cruel, but never robotic or cold.

now, I don’t particularly care for Lando irl. he just doesn’t do it for me but MAN……..the absolute lando torturefest this fic was made me ACHE. the fact that he just couldn’t make himself stop from falling for oscar despite still being INSANELY bitter about the whole abu dhabi situation and his consequent lost championship. the way he just kept IGNORING every kind of hint that the thing with oscar was going to end in tragedy for him!!!!!!! (maxf made me insane. him being right about oscar from the get to and yet still having to watch as the mother of all psychological tortures unfolded cause lando was a goner. OUGH)

Max……oh Max. I love how you can just tell he’s your favourite from the way you write him (this is a compliment, not at all some kind of dig btw). He’s always the catalyst, willing or not, and somehow his presence just trickles down into every other character’s story. Haunting The Narrative personified. Oscar taking his place in rbr just to go apeshit and be compared to mad max. Max playing involuntary mind games on lando with his team radio, triggering the most INSANE lando meltdown ever. I was PRAYING for a maxcar happy ending and you gave it to me!!!!!

Now, a list of moments where I had to put my phone down and stare at the wall for a minute:

- oscar not giving position back in Abu Dhabi. Did I see it coming? Yes. Did it make me gasp in shock either way? Also yes.

- the whole entirety of the landoscar portion of this story. the fact that the tenderness between them was built on NOT acknowledging all the terrible things they were doing to each other in the car. the fact that they just wanted to be sweet and loving and caring but couldn’t fight against the Big Bad Championship Issue and we’re doomed from the start.

- Oscar trying to work up the courage to tell lando he was gonna leave mclaren for redbull and lando being like. Hey, don’t worry, I know. I do too. I WAS GOING INSANE HERE. what if I loved you and you were about to betray me.

- the whole golf scene between zak and oscar. the way my heart dropped when I realised zak wanted to push lando out of the team, their golden boy from the start, cause he just didn’t think he had that dog in him and that he would get chewed up and spit out by oscar in a matter of years. OSCAR ACCEPTING RBR’S OFFER AS THE ULTIMATE ACT OF LOVE TOWARDS LANDO.

- somehow it didnt click in my head right away what Alex going to mclaren meant. AND THEN. carlos, OH RIGHT CARLOS. him defending against lando cause he thought Lando knew, him being stuck in williams despite the whole carlando narrative and the fact that he was, allegedly, such a big part in the development of mclaren. what the hell

- the scene between oscar and lando. You know the one. Oscar being like: you are too emotional that’s why nobody told you I was leaving!!!!!! and lando responding with: no I am not!!!!!!! with tears in his eyes. SENSATIONAL. “It’s not my fault you made up this whole fantasy in your head that we were together, and we were in love.” right. Okay. 👍🏼 im so fine about this actually.

- retired max and seb in rbr’s garage made me bawl for some reason. maybe it’s me being a seb fucker, but the mental image of the two rbr’a golden boys together is terrible in the best way.

- the scene between daniel, max and oscar. HUH. I loved all the hints at the absolute nuclear bomb that was maxiel but without making the story about it, chefs kiss (that’s exactly what maxiel is all about imo! the what if’s and the heartache and the wrong timing of it all. maxiel IS not about fulfilment and happiness baby)

Honourable mention: charles being oblivious to the chaos and having an identity crisis trying to muster up the courage to buy lube. delicious

To wrap this infinite rant up, I just wanted to tell you that you truly do have a special talent in writing and you’re probably the only author whose fics I will always read, despite pairings or plot lines. This fic in particular was VERY well-crafted and I compliment both you and lia for it; your minds work in ways that align very well with my taste, and thank god for that tbh! Hope you have a great day and just know that I’ll be thinking about this fic for a very long time. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

uno reverse - an infinite response below the cut ❤️

in a way, this might be the closest thing i get to a fic commentary, so thank you for the detailed ask:

the variety of people who came into this For the landoscar tag vs those who were hesitant about the landoscar tag... what a beautiful collection of people...

re: oscar pov, thank you so much! one thing i really love about oscar is like. how much he pushes back IRL about how people view him as unemotional except. literally everyone around him, mark, andrea, and even his mom are like - yeah oscar's so unflappable and calm at all times. whereas to oscar he's time and time again been like. i do get emotional i just don't show it, etc. so i'm happy that you liked this characterization of him :) calculating but feels things deeply, ruthless for a purpose, casually cruel but only in pursuit of some greater goal, but not robotic or cold. yeah !!!!

even though maybe this fic might've tricked some people... don't get me wrong... i'm a massive landolover... no1 landolover on the planet... aka i love putting him through situations... and yeah. he fell hard for oscar. So So Hard. he fell and he fell hard and Max (f) saw it and was like. i can't fucking sit and watch you break your own heart. i can't do it. i can't watch you do it. and lando knew all that and knew better but still, he took the risk and it blew up in his face. for me lando in this fic was the most human because it's like. the only reason why maxcar got each other so well/worked so well is because they were so willing to sacrifice everything else in their lives, and other people, for what they wanted, without any sort of contrition. that sort of singleminded abandon/focus/dedication to one thing, racing etc., is just, like - this isn't to say that the other drivers don't have that same want or dedication, but the really interesting point i was trying to get across was - how much are you really willing to sacrifice. how much are you willing to give up, what other parts of your life are you willing to be flippant about. you can't put all of your care and effort into one thing without forsaking some other parts. for oscar, the parts he was letting go of/giving up was lando, etc.

and yeah it was like. lando saw all the signs in monza, zandvoort, etc. but he just - ignored it. when you have these little hints that don't fit into your worldview, it's easy to ignore how they fit into the puzzle, it's hard to see things you're not looking for even if they're right under your nose. besides, oscar had a contract. besides, to lando, oscar loved him. and even if oscar did love him, which he did, it just wasn't in a way that lando could understand.

and yeah... the max f of it all... he was right about it from the start. he knew how the story would end and he was right in the end, but no matter how much you care and no matter how much you know, you can't really control how other people act. he told lando again and again that oscar would fuck him over in the end. [not in the fic... just in my mind... and also in my notes lmao]. and lando ignoring everything he said re: the fights/fall outs between them, is what led max to be like - yeah, fuck this. i'm not watching you break your own heart. [but then he goes and picks up the pieces post-zandvoort, obviously... the nortrell of it all...]

to finish off the triangulation - max! he really is my favorite <3 it comes out in everything i write ls;jdflksajdf he really was the catalyst for this whole fic like. so much of what happened between landoscar, in a way, was kind of a direct consequence of max, even in the smallest ways. he retired, so oscar left mclaren. he told the media in zandvoort, so we got that terrible fallout. he might not have been the main character in the real story, but he was a catalyst. he haunted the narrative. even retired, in 2026, everyone still thinks about him, everyone still talks about him re: sky sports commentators. but in the end, he was really just - this guy who's retired, with his cats in monaco, playing iracing and minecraft on stream, and fucking oscar in between, etc. something about maxcar who just - are untouchable only because of their perceived lack of care, when truly, they are both people who deeply, deeply care - but only about certain things. only about the things that matter.

re: oscar not giving the place back. One of the very first plot points of the fic. very lovely and special to me. an eye for an eye. but not something malicious, not something done out of revenge. just - this is how it's going to be, so i'll return it in full measure. it wasn't that deep. really, oscar just did it for himself

re: landoscar. yeah... it was the not talking about things. it was the fact that they were able to be happy and in love only during the summer break, when nothing else mattered. but in the end it always comes back to the racing...

re: WHAT IF I LOVED YOU AND YOU WERE ABOUT TO BETRAY ME... EXACTLY... lando was. so sure. that oscar was going to say i love you then.... he was so sure...

re: the golf scene. YEAHHHH. this was a really fun moment for me. it was why it was necessary for lando to not be doing so well before the summer break. yes he already lost a championship (2024), but it needed to be convincing, at least results wise, that zak would want to drop him. it's that sort of ruthless attitude, i feel like, where you hedge your bets and try to pick the right horse given the information you have. the point i was trying to make was that people started to see a future with oscar more than they did with lando. oscar just kept on driving - and he did well for it. but zak scared oscar off.

in the end, the thing was that oscar did care deeply about lando, enough that he'd leave the team. i think it was in part oscar leaving bc he knew that mclaren would never be His team/he wanted to make a team for himself, but it was primarily for lando's sake. in that moment, in summer 2025, he did it for lando. he wouldn't take that away from lando. he already took a championship from him - which he didn't feel sorry about, but he knew that that was what he did. and he was aware that he would probably break lando's heart. he was aware of all of this, but he knew that leaving was the only way out, and he needed an out. even worse than leaving, to oscar, was staying at mclaren and having them push lando out. someone has to leave first. this is a very old story. there is no other version of the story, etc.

re: carlos. yeah RIP carlos. anyway i've been asked about why alex. and really it was just like - oscar left because he knew there couldnt be 2 number one drivers at mclaren, so i needed a convincing no2, who was still pretty solid.

re: qatar. yeah... yeah... i was literally writing like. all of this fic. all of the 50k before it, to get to qatar (maybe an exaggeration because of course there were big moments before it that i was ultra jazzed about writing, re: silverstone, re: zandvoort, re: spa, but qatar was like, the BREAKING POINT, where all the emotions come out, finally, where it's the point of no return for oscar - where everything he'd been keeping inside, all of the reactionary emotions from people's vitriol over the course of 2 seasons, and being pushed over the edge by lando saying that if he won, it wouldn't be his, bringing the whole tabloid narrative of him being mark's revenge into play - where it all comes out, and oscar can't take any of it back).

and the fantasies. yeah. oscar saying that it was all a fantasy when. deep inside. he was also making one up in his head too, is the thing.

re: max and seb <3 red bull golden boys forever.

re: maxiel. yeah man. i feel like. idk. i feel like in the context of max and red bull, daniel will always be a part of it, and i'm glad you thought that despite (or because of) the scarcity of maxiel, the emotional impact was still significant. what ifs, heartache, and wrong timing. you get it.

re: charles. bro was just doing his own thing for all of 2025-2026. the charles side story is so funny to me. Maybe one day i'll write it in length. oscar literally was just like. idgaf abt ur crisis rn.

LASTLY - thank you so much! it's always a really big honor to me to hear that a lot of people read my fics even if it's not their preferred ship, and that they'll trust me to deliver a good story, and i'm really happy that people liked this one so much!

and ofc. Lia helped develop like the majority of this plot with me. this fic is just as much hers as it is mine. our neural link is like this 🤞

TO WRAP UP. im so happy you enjoyed the fic, and thank you so much for the kind ask <3

[watchyourbuck]

masterlist

most of these are 18+ or will end up being! i urge you to take a look at the tags on each, as some of them have very niche kinks

series knives to the chest (and into my heart) - ongoing The one where Buck and Eddie are killers, but they're also in love (as much as they can be).

dear maddie, - finished After Buck dies, Eddie writes ten heartfelt letters to Maddie, telling her the story of how they fell in love, so she can feel closer to her brother once again.

A.R.C.A.N.E.3 - ongoing (and still receiving prompts) This Dystopian Fantasy AU is part of a Tumblr game, where the world I built is kept secret from the readers. Each chapter is in response to a prompt sent to me on my inbox, shaping the story with the only promise of Buck and Eddie ending up together. The more I write, the more is revealed.

fifteen first kisses - ongoing Fifteen different first kisses between Buck and Eddie

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

one shots i'll guide you through The one where Eddie's never been with a man before, and Buck gladly guides him through it.

not your fault (but mine) The one where Buck invites his new boyfriend to game night at Eddie's house and Eddie does something about it.

next in line Buck has a boyfriend. Eddie isn't happy about it. It should be him in that spot.

the powder room plot A lot can happen at the firehouse's men restroom. The one were Eddie begs Buck to let him eat him out.

fill in the gaps (and i'll fill yours) 5 times Buck and Eddie mess around at work + 1 time it almost gets them fired.

watercolored Buck and Eddie break into a hotel's jacuzzi at night, but can't seem to be too quiet about it.

among the hungry and the patient Buck's tired of Eddie's bullshit so he walks into the firehouse and just asks him to make out.

i love you if you even care 7x04 spec fic where Buck gets jealous of Tommy, but hits Eddie with the basketball instead.

do you mind? im pining 7x05 spec fic. Buck and Tommy have their first date. Eddie is jealous about it. (Includes Buck and Tommy making out at the loft + Eddie dealing with complicated feelings towards his best friend).

i might be a sucker for you 7x05 meta fic. Buck and Tommy go on their first date, but never get interrupted. Includes bucktommy public kissing + first time blow jobs.

third mans the charm Buck and Tommy get nasty at a gay bar - with Eddie. (Includes a double public blowjob + sub Buck)

i dont think we fit on the bed Stablished buddietommy takes the day off. (Includes Tommy and Eddie taking care of Buck in various ways + a little domestic fluff).

everything about you tastes like metal Buck gets a tongue piercing to suck Tommy off.

golden star boy has two boyfriends 7x06 meta fic. Tommy never leaves the bachelor party. He catches Eddie staring at them making out. (Includes drunk Buck and Eddie + Buck being needy for two men.)

just like coming home 7x07 inspired fic. Buck and Eddie go on their first date. Eddie wears the 'good cologne.' (It includes a buddie kiss bc i couldn't help myself.)

we might be marrying a monster Buck, Eddie and Tommy get married. Buck turns into groomzilla - with a clipboard. (Includes Eddie and Tommy being absolutely done with their fiancé + a little smut scene at the end.)

dreams unwind the freefall 7x10 spec fic. The Diaz Parents take Christopher. Buck and Eddie are left to deal with the mess. (Includes a hug and a kiss that may ruin everything - or not.)

old dog new tricks Buck and Tommy meet at a bar. Tommy's a little (much) older. They fuck about it.

personal pornstar Eddie grows a beard, then loses half of it. Buck apparently has a facial hair kink. (Includes Buck getting rimmed by Eddie pornstache Díaz, then fucked over a table. Also a little fluff bc wink).

if you wish to stay (we'll stay too) Buck tells his parents he's in love with two men. It doesn't go so well. (Includes Tommy and Eddie taking care of him + Eddie's inner monologue about the Buckley Parents).

oh, did i wake you up? the buddietommy somnophilia fic (includes buck getting fucked by his pretty boyfriends + waking up in the middle of it).

six of hands, three of souls a buddietommy soulmate AU (Includes established buddie + the soulmate talk + Tommy sucking them both off at the end of the night).

walk him like a dog, tie him like a bunny Eddie and Tommy give brat!Buck a run for his money. (Includes a playboy muzzle + a surprise little ending)

three players one game Buck and Tommy are rugby players. They use Eddie as a way to let off steam.

[everest-is-dead-now]

Little Monster Q&A + author fun facts !!

hello new followers and fans of Little Monster. first of all, i just have to thank everyone for the crazy support ive been getting as of late. thank you everyone. every like, comment, and reblog just pushes me to keep writing, even when it feels like every word i write is garbage.

so i decided to make this little special! idk if anyone will be super interested, so ill put all the stuff under the cut, but i also wanted to add this little drawing i did of terzomega as like extra content. if you arent interested, thanks anyway and enjoy the art!

—

to everyone who stayed, i have no idea why you’re interested, but thanks lmfao. this shit will be long.

Questions

Is your most recent oneshot about the mirror related at all to Little Monster? (from @ofthemorningstars)

i'm glad you noticed that !! in The Mirror, i very purposefully left two hints at the end of the fic to indicate its connection to Little Monster, which was the taco ring reference and Terzo's use of "mostriciatto". to me, mostriciatto will always be the Little Monster version of terzomega. no matter when i finish that fic or if i write more fics after, i will never again use mostriciatto unless im purposefully writing these versions of terzomega. i havent seen anyone else use it (i hope they dont), so i like to imagine this can be forever my impact on terzomega fics lmao. anyway, the purpose of me leaving those references isnt necessarily to say, "this is a future scene of little monster" bc it isnt exactly that (while i have plans that line up with this oneshot, i cannot anticipate that everything will fit perfectly by the time we get there in the canon). the purpose of doing that was to show u cuties that yes, terzo and omega will eventually have a better relationship, and i will be extending this timeline into papa terzo era. just a fun little teaser for my more observant fans.

also, fun fact about how i came up with that pet name. i was writing the first part of Little Monster (that part is now titled Spilled Wine as featured on my Ao3) and i knew i wanted to give terzo an affinity for using pet names, but i didn't know quite which ones to use. i didn't want to be boring, so i googled some. i have no idea where, but i found mostriciatto, meaning, of course, "little monster." i had yet to even really start writing it, but i knew i wanted it to be DARK with a very unhinged omega, so i thought, perfect. ill talk a bit more about the writing of part one later on

2. How many parts do you currently anticipate writing? Do you have a set ending point, or will this perhaps be an ongoing project for the foreseeable future? (from @ofthemorningstars)

i have 12 major plot points (including the first five parts i have written) that loosely translate into parts. this could mean 12 parts, or it could be more depending on what i write. i kinda plan on expanding this to 18 (6 parts per “era” or “act” [you’ll see what i mean]) though i dont quite have a set ending yet, so really its up in the air. i am, however, planning on having a definitive ending, ergo not an endless project. from there there may be some oneshots in this universe, but they will have an ending.

3. In the first part of little monster you put a disclaimer with something along the lines of "if you're expecting comfort I'm sorry to disappoint". The angst is MWAH but do you like plan on giving Terzo like any sort of comfort or happiness?? (from anon)

before i begin rambling, here's your answer: there will be hope and good times as mentioned above, and you might have even picked up on that in part 5. i may have wrote a fucked up versions of terzomega but whats a good story without character growth?? i havent determined the direction of the ending, but rest assured, if it all burns down, they will hold each other close (for the minute it takes).

but also.... funny story about that disclaimer....

soo i wanted to write ghost fanfic to impress my friend who is a VERY avid member of this community. however, i failed to realize they DO NOT like angst without love and care and fluff, so after i showed it to them, buddy did not like it. i took that as a sign that maybe this shit was a little TOO dark.

but my god, i could not stop thinking about it, as the caption said, and i dont always feel that away about what i write. i had recently started to post semi often to tumblr, and i just thought. well, theres gotta be someone else as fucked up as me, and i posted that shit. that disclaimer was a result of taking my friends reaction seriously and realizing that i needed to make it VERY clear that this fic is NOT for everyone. there was a different og caption that was longer and more grave, but i cut it down for aesthetics bc little monster has already seen more success than i ever anticipated.

4. What is your favorite ghost album, and what song introduced you to ghost? (from anon) & Favorite ghost song (or songs) (from @ask-enso-ghoul)

my favorite album is Infestissumam!!! the vibes of the album are so fucking immaculate, even if terzo is my favorite papa.

of course, of course, the first song i ever heard from ghost was Mary on a Cross. it blew up when it did and i loved it. the second song that really made me start getting into ghsot was square hammer, which will secretly also be my favorite ghost song but ive heard it so many times i have to give it now to the future is a foreign land. some of my other fave songs are jigolo, respite, body and blood, faith, twenties, and year zero (there’s just so many)

i want to take a second to say my least favorite album though, which is opus eponymous, or as i call it, pope pussy. it’s ok. it’s just ok. mk. i’m not a fan of that sound. the best song on there is genesis. I FUCKING SAID IT—

5. how do you get into the zone of writing smut-? I’m trying to get into it but it sounds cheesy when I do, so do you do something specific? (from anon)

im gonna level with you. i have been writing for almost a decade, since i was 12, and the first thing i started writing was smut. sex has always been a HUGE creative force for my writing and art in general. as stupid as it sounds, writing smut to me is more than just that. its my art. its my greatest and most inspirational subject. i love being creative with it, bending it to the niches and intricacies of the duo im writing, just playing with it as a medium of expression, of storytelling, of how DEEP it can be.

that being said, one of the easiest ways to get into the zone of smut specifically is being horny ! you imagine your pairing doing some illicit bedroom activity and you pick them up liek dolls and smush their faces together ! let it be fun, and let it be yours. dont write it to please the kinks of your audience, write it to your own taste and enjoyment.

as far as it being cheesy, yeah, it will feel that way. the most important thing is to be confident with your language and don’t shy away from calling a dick a dick, a pussy a pussy, an ass an ass. it feels stupid, but it will read worse if you make up artsy names for them every other line. don’t be afraid to be descriptive either, because that’s what the people want to see, trust me.

apologies if that was unhelpful, ive just been writing smut so long i can hardly tell you how i do it. im jsut super passionate about it and it fuels me creatively….. can u tell lol

6. Favorite work you’ve ever done? (from anon)

so.... ive written many things and that depends. its definitely not anything ive posted on here.

i think my favorite "serious" work is a short story i wrote for a creative writing class, called Abel and Sally. it was an modern inversion of the bible story of abraham and sarah, with a really dark ending (i love to shit on catholicism)

the other work that comes to mind is the first story i wrote about my oc anson, called Anson's Prison. that is something i would potentially post on here, its pretty short but its a good one. its oc content, tho, so i doubt many ppl would be interested lel.

8. will you draw more drawing for your stories in the future? (from anon)

well. heres my thing with art.

ive been drawing as long as ive been writing. but im not an artist; i never learned ANYTHING beyond like drawing itself, i.e. i dont know how to shade, pick colors, do bgs, etc. (can u tell??? do u see that art up there???? can YOU TELL??) thus, i have a sort of love hate relationship with drawing, and i usually dont like my own stuff. i didnt pick up drawing as easy as i did writing and its not nearly as intuitive to me.

that being said, it is sometimes fun when the drawings turn out just right and i get super passionate about something i draw and i can create the image in my head. so if the mood strikes me, i probably will draw more terzomega stuff in the future.

but why do i need to?? feeds you all SO WELL with little monster stuff you dont need my shitty art lmfao

9. MILK OR CEREAL FIRST? (from anon)

cereal. bc the moment the milk hits that cereal u are on a speedy ass countdown to devour that shit before it gets soggy, and brother, u better eat quick.

Things I wanted to share

Little Monster was supposed to be a one shot

so, Little Monster started as one thing and turned to something else entirely. originally, i wrote the beginning of the first chapter (where they are flirting in the church) in about april of this year. in this version, they were supposed to already be in love, though hiding it, and terzo was not drunk at all, just teasing. i eventually scrapped it because i wasnt very passionate about it and got p bored. then, in july, i had the itch to write something dark, but none of my projects at the time had characters i could really write that with. i came back to that scrapped fic and i thought, damn, i could really fuck these guys up, and i did.

little monster immediately became more successful than i thought it would be, and that was only about 10 notes and a comment in. i was happy to leave it at that, but then, i just started writing part two on a whim. if you look at the og post in the comments, i mention that im writing a "follow up". thats bc even when writing part two, this was not going to be a series !! but then, as i kept writing, part two became so long i had to split it in half, meaning there were suddenly 3. by the time i posted part three, though, i was shocked at the sheer amount of attention i was getting. at the same time, part three ended in such a way that i knew this story needed to keep going, to give these two a resolution. now, little monster will be a full fledged story thanks to all the support ive received :3

2. im an english major

yeah, you got me, im a college student majoring in english creative writing. is it obvious? my penultimate goal is to one day be a published author. it’s crazy surreal to me how much people express to me how they enjoy my writing~~ i hope i can one day make my dream come true 🥰 the unfortunate part about this is i go back to college next week and im uncertain how that will affect my writing schedule :p i’ll stick to weekly uploads for little monster tho dw !!

3. this is the first time i’ve written fanfic in several years

when i first started writing it was frerard and peterick fanfics on wattpad in middle school (huge shoutout to the ones that know lmfao). i stopped writing those before hs and haven’t written fanfic since. i think it’s very funny that i have come full circle back to writing band fanfic, altho ghost ofc is way more intricate with its canon

4. I LOVE YOU GUYS

i know i’ve said it a dozen times already on this post, but god it’s crazy. it’s nuts !! i’ve already made a handful of super sweet mutuals who i appreciate with all my heart, and even if you’re just a lurker, I STILL APPRECIATE YOU. EVERY SINGLE NOTE MAKES ME SO HAPPY. EVERY COMMENT AND RB HAS ME BURSTING WITH JOY.

it is entirely thanks to you all that i write terzomega and ive become so passionate about it. if it weren’t for your support, i would probably still be writing my silly little stories that no one but me could possibly understand, rotting away and wondering if anyone would even like my writing. terzo and omega are such a unique pairing compared to what ive written before, and writing them is a really cool feeling. i truly love it, and i hope i can continue to feed this side of the fandom for a long time.

from the bottom of my heart and with all my writing soul, thank you. i want to keep writing for u guys, and i want to satiate ur dirty terzomega fantasies >:) this is such a sweet and inclusive fandom and im glad i’ve been welcomed in so quickly. i hope i can continue to grow my talent here :3

ok that’s it bye teehee