#shitty people can just stop reading my fics please

[gimlilithegreat]

This shit. This shit can fuck right off.

Honestly thought the dick head had misspoken initially. What a twat.

[jimblejamblewritings]

love letters and second sons | part 1.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The Bridgerton girlies have got me. Congratulations to you all. So before you read this, please read: I Hate Accidents by @i-hate-accidents AND Over The Garden Wall by @homeofthepeculiar AND The Ultimate Deception by @maximoff-pan. These stories are some of my favorites and really inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Author's Note: To those who have read my other works, you'll notice that the author Mercutio's stories are something special

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

I am pleased to welcome you all to the start of another social season. Of course, people love and look for love all year round but each year the season just seems to invite love to blossom. I hope all of you find the match to your souls. Marriage is a business but can it not have love as well? A business built with love surely must be a business that tries to last. I ask our respectful citizens and subjects of the United Kingdom to make love a part of their search. 

I would also like to ask about businesses that do not involve marriage or love. How are you? In the business of health, is everyone safe from all sickness? In the business of finance, does everyone have enough to eat and clothe themselves without falling into poverty? Are businesses afloat even if only by a small margin? How are you? Truly, I want to know. If you would like to write to me, please do so. The royal mailboxes should still be in perfect condition. 

Of course, if you have something urgent then I am sorry but you must come to the palace and request an audience. My valets hold all letters for a day or a few out of safety for everyone. But rest assured, I read every letter once received. 

I would also like to say that I can feel the winds of the ton calling me to grace their presence and to stop being rude by ignoring them. Naturally, the wind is very rude to say this and then cut through my dress and chill my bones even when it is snowing. But I digress, the wind is right. The time for introduction must be soon. And a lovely time that will be. I cannot wait to meet you all. 

Yours truly, 

A Not So Young Anymore Youngest Princess Y/N Hanover (Truly, I need a proper surname and not just the name of my father’s house)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

Would you like to know what I have learned yesterday? I know the Americas are still a touchy subject for some but I hope you don’t mind me talking about it, just to share my studies. Philadelphia is the center of American debate. So many great men (and women that have probably gone unnamed but aided their counterparts in their quest of education) have lived and are currently still living there. 

Going to America simply for a debate sounds terribly dreadful. But what if we had one here that wasn’t relegated to just the universities. An entire city becoming a center of debate seems incredibly foolish, not to mention disruptive to its current residents, but buildings of debate do not seem like a bad idea. 

Even if some feel like they aren’t smart enough, they should participate. Ideas are nurtured by sharing them. May some debates lead to great compromise and understanding and maybe even propositions for laws. 

I, for one, debate with my father every day on which science is the most important to teach to young children and which science can wait until university should they like to pursue that path. He believes all of it. I believe that medicinal science is too much for a young mind and they only need to be taught how to mind their health until they can understand better. What do you think? I am delighted to hear your opinions. Maybe mine will be swayed. 

Yours Truly,

Youngest Princess Y/N Buckingham (I am trying out new surnames until one I like sticks)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

I apologize if my stance may be radical but nothing in society ever got done if the start wasn’t a little radical. I believe that young women should be properly taught about relations… let me just say it, sex. Not when they are children, no, but when they are about to debut. Consider it. You all know that as a royal, despite being a woman, I have been taught all things. Everyone is aware that I know what sex is. But if I and my sisters were taught sex so that we may be aware of malicious advances and be able to protect our virtue first rather than waiting for our virtues to be saved by someone and risk them being too late, then others should as well. Therefore, I implore all mothers and governesses to teach their young ladies about to debut what sex is. And to fathers who may be without wives, please find any woman to teach your daughters.

I shall return with more radical ideas for a better and more prosperous United Kingdom. 

Yours truly, 

Youngest Princes Y/N Kew 

The printed letters delivered to London, had everyone enthralled in the early morning. Some people that lived close enough to the central town square didn’t bother with the prints and went straight to the wooden pin board there to look at the princess’ handwriting on the original letters. Whenever the Young Princess or the author Mercutio Quick wrote, people stopped and paid attention. 

Princess Y/N was the people’s princess. The one who listened to their complaints and wasn’t cheap on her charitable acts. She was so much like her father, Farmer George. Even with his illness he still ran a good country… when he was in charge. So much better than her eldest brother, George IV. Then again, any royal sibling was better than their eldest brother, even if only by a very small percentage. Everyday the public hoped another child would challenge George the Younger. They would rally their support behind them. 

They were hoping that any day George IV’s daughter, Charlotte, would have an heir. If she was pregnant then it would be so easy for the public to support her and convince either George IV to step down or convince Parliament to present a motion to King George. They would have a ruler and an heir. Charlotte the Younger would be the easiest transition for George IV to understand.

But neither her father nor husband seemed to care about the lack of heir. But the thought of succession and coups and duels was forgotten for a moment to read the Young Princess’ letters welcoming them to the new social season with new balls, debutantes, and drama. 

In the Bridgerton house, the family ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were trying to get ready to present Daphne to the Queen while also trying to read the Young Princess’ letters. Benedict laughed as he slapped his copy of the letters. 

“Mother would have a fit if she had to speak with Daphne about sex.” 

“I’m surprised she would even suggest such a thing,” Colin said as he returned to reading the first letter, thinking he might actually write to the Young Princess about his familial concerns and wanting to travel desperately but being unsure about leaving them. 

Eloise finally smiled as she came downstairs with the rest of her siblings. “I for one think it’s rather refreshing. She is right. Our mamas should be teaching us more than just how to meet the Queen… Daphne! You must make haste! Do you think she heard me?” 

Colin rolled his eyes. “She most certainly did. But on the matter of the princess, what is wrong with a woman’s husband teaching her about sex?” 

“Everything is wrong with that.” 

“Hmm.” 

He looked down to reread the paper, wondering if he could understand what the princess actually meant. Even though the letters were left at home, talk of the princess never ceased. How could it? The monarchy’s youngest princess might actually be joining them. Everyone wanted to know what she would look like, not in the face of course. Even her fourth brother didn’t take off his mask until after five months of being introduced to society and he was the shortest time it took to see the royal children’s face. 

“Do you think she will be tall like her eldest sister or short? Plump?” Eloise asked as their carriages started their way towards the palace. “I’d imagine I’d be very lovely and plump if I could be stuck in a palace all day with the most wonderful food imaginable. Not that anyone should ever value a woman based on her body but Penelope has stated that her sisters are terribly upset because all the dress makers have started saying that plump is going to be in fashion once again in only a few years time and by the time they become plump it’ll be out of fashion again.” 

Daphne looked out the window. “I wonder if she’ll look like the Queen or the King. Oh, what makeup do you think she’ll wear? What mask did she have created for herself? When do you think we’ll actually see her face?” 

Violet touched the knees of all her girls. “Whatever she is like, do not be rude and gawk. The poor thing will already have the vultures’ eyes on her all night. If she even comes out tonight. Perhaps it will be at a ball this week. That would be quite a fantastic introduction. I do hope she at least meets us this season.” 

Francesca smiled. “I imagine her dance card would be quite full.” 

“She’d have bracelets of dance cards going up to her arm,” Daphne agreed.  

“But she isn’t coming into society yet. She’s just introducing herself to us,” Eloise said. 

“She’s still a princess royal. A very well-known one at that. There’s no way the men would pass on an opportunity to dance with her. They’d want to start making their intentions known now, get ahead of everyone else.” 

The boys’ carriage was speaking of a different matter entirely. The princess and Mercutio had written to the ton at the same time. With the presentation to the Queen taking up so much of the day, most people wouldn’t be able to read his work until later that evening. Colin and Benedict simply couldn’t wait. Colin sat with his brother as he drove the carriage and read the story out loud: 

“Arsehole,” Cecilia muttered. 

Ignoring the sharp stinging of her backside, she hopped off the bed to find something to put on. All she needed to accomplish was getting back to her room, clothed. She knew there must have been some spare clothes in their dressers. It was just a matter of sorting through which garments were hers and which belonged to the others. She had been sorely mistaken to ignore the three members of nobility behind her, thinking they hadn’t heard her. 

Lovell scrunched up his face, resembling a rat. “Is receiving another punishment something you really care for? Because this attitude you’ve acquired is going to earn you one.” 

“Piss off.” 

“Is that any way to talk to your dominants?” Madison asked, adjusting herself in Tommy’s arms. 

Cecilia scoffed as she walked towards the door, placing one hand on the doorknob. “Lavender.” 

The other three faces fell at the use of that forbidden word. Cecilia’s hand reached up ever so gently and wiped away tears. She wondered if the tears were for her former lovers or for finally realizing her mind was deluded to think she would be with anyone above her station such as Lovell. 

“I don’t want this anymore.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“You never believe that I don’t enjoy breaking our established rules. You only listen to Madison.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“It is clear you both like her more than you desire me. I am down.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“You shall see me around this manor, doing my job as I always have. But that is the extent of our relationship.” 

“Please, just give u—” 

“Good day, Lord Parham. Lord Newall, Lady Wilcher.” 

“Riveting,” Colin said as he finished reading. “Mr. Mercutio has done it again.” 

Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has. I was a bit worried when he announced that he wanted to dabble in the themes of erotic pleasures in his stories but this was just as enjoyable as all the others.”

“Agree… Oh, it says here that they have earned a publishing deal. The penny stories will still come out once a week, chapter by chapter but readers can also purchase a book if they would like to keep the story properly or are in a rush to read it. I for one will be buying the books.” 

“I second that.” 

“I wonder what his next story will be about. Actually, no, I wonder what our dear sisters and mothers can be talking about.” 

“The princess, no doubt.”

”Do you think any of our brothers will approach?” Eloise asked in the women’s carriage, more to herself than anything. 

That made Hyacinth’s face light up. “If one of them marries the princess does that mean we get to be princesses too?” 

“As if any of our brothers even could or want to.” Francesca pulled her face away from the window.

“If anyone is going to bring them to the marriage mart,” Daphne started as she fanned herself. “It would be the princess. Anthony would be a good match for her.” 

Violet laughed, thinking of the idea. “A viscount and a princess are a perfect match.” 

All talk of the princess stopped as they approached. The worst thing that could happen could be a footman overhearing them and mistaking their speech for malicious gossip rather than light-natured and report it to the princess or the queen or even worse, King George himself. They would forever be ostracized from society. 

From upstairs, you watched from a window where you knew no one could see you even if they looked up. How you desperately wanted to be down there. All the men were dressed up and looking like penguins. Handsome they were but still penguin-like in silhouette. And the women’s dresses. Some, while upper class, were of a lower social standing and wore older dresses that looked just as gorgeous as the empire and rather shapeless dresses of today. 

But today was not your day. You actually weren’t sure when your day would be. Your mother and father let their children choose when they would be introduced to society. Of course you all had to wait for a certain age and it had to be a date at the start of the social season but you could pick the day. And unlike your last sibling, you wanted it to be at a ball instead of the selection of the Diamonds. You didn’t even care which ball it would be. Perhaps it was selfish but you did want a day all to yourself or at least a day with you as the main focus. But that wasn’t this year. Or any year perhaps. 

You were excited to finally leave the walls of the palace if you were allowed, having proven yourself capable of not causing an incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say you had proven yourself without illness. You weren’t that lucky. You and all your siblings were locked inside until the royal physicians could observe and confirm that you weren’t sick with whatever madness your father had. They didn’t have to observe you. That was also why you picked a ball instead of today. You wanted to prove you didn’t need a chaperone literally holding your elbow. You wanted freedom like your siblings. Freedom to explore that you weren’t sure would get because of your illness. 

After a nearly fatal drowning in the lake — an event your siblings still get chewed out for at least once a month — you started showing symptoms like George did. For you it wasn’t about if you would be as sick like your father. It was about how bad and how quickly the illness would get. 

You didn’t get to see George as often as the others. The doctors thought you shouldn’t be around him for prolonged periods of time unless it was after an episode. They thought that too much exposure would make you more like him instead of better. They wanted to send him to Kew but you promised that you wouldn’t go to his quarters as long as he got to stay at Buckingham. 

Charlotte, silly as it may have been, had hope. They caught your sickness early. Nine was a very young age to almost go mad. Maybe you could be saved from a cruel fate unlike George. They were too late for him but not for you. Of course this only brought jealousy from your siblings who didn’t feel like they got as much affection anymore. Every time you even twitched, it became about you. They could never hate you. It wasn’t like you asked to be sick. But it was hard to be around you. Everyday visits became once a week. Still, you cherished those visits. Like the one yesterday. They expressed their sympathies and hopefulness that you would get to introduce yourself and maybe it could even be this year or maybe this month. 

You could have scoffed. After what you did just two days ago, you were unsure. The daylight came into your room before you were prepared for it and you had been convinced that Buckingham was on fire. You couldn’t be calmed down until you jumped into the water fully clothed. Immediately, you pulled yourself out of the trance but no one really cared. The royal physician had been called anyway and you had ruined all chances of attending the presentation to the Queen. 

“Your Highness!” a voice disturbed your thoughts and your eyes from looking at your siblings’ carriages leave in the morning. Your lady-in-waiting approached you with a paper, an entire pamphlet. “It’s already spread through the ton like a fire. We haven’t read it yet. We figured new literature would be a treat for you.” 

“Thank you, Pandora. Shall we read it in the kitchens this morning when we return home?” 

“Not your room?” 

“I’m so terribly sick of my room and the washroom and the balcony and the bedroom.” 

“You are getting restless.” 

“It’s only a matter of time. Maybe even tomorrow it’ll happen. And soon it will only be a couple of years at most before the mask is gone. By the way,” you said as the two started to leave. “Did you hear about the Feather girl that fainted? Is she alright?” 

“Oh yes, she’s fine.” 

“Good. Have someone send flowers to her tomorrow with an inquiry about her wellbeing after taking such a tumble. Oh and no flowers to the Diamond. I want to meet her myself one day. Now, let’s read about this… Lady Whistledown. She already sounds like an interesting woman.” 

Interesting it was indeed. The maids and kitchen staff hung onto your every word as you read the pamphlet. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the pamphlet yet but Pandora was right about one thing. It was literature. Lady Whistledown seemed bold enough to list subjects by name. By their entire name as if she wasn’t afraid of any repercussions. You supposed she wouldn’t be since Whistledown was obviously not her real name. 

It wasn’t the subject of what she published that bothered you. A lot of it was standard gossip that goes around during the social season but it was her personal opinion. She almost seemed to want the ladies she wrote about to have miserable ends like inquiring about Daphne Bridergton’s flame burning out quickly. The lady must know that what she published could ruin a reputation. Gossip is no longer gossip when publicly written down. It has the potential to become fact. 

You slapped the pamphlet against your hand. “Well, I suppose Mercutio Quick from York will no longer be the entertainment of the ton. Sad, and right as I earned a publishing deal too. Perhaps, I should take up a different art. Like making dresses for all my days or learning to play the harp and cello properly so it sounds better than a dying whale according to my brothers.” 

The cook shook his head. “Your stories are very entertaining. Even Lady Whistledown couldn’t stop that.” 

“Thank you for saying that. I am rather jealous that she is penning under a woman.” 

“But you have chosen a name based on your favorite characters, have you not?” 

“I have but maybe I should’ve chosen better. This Lady Whistledown might be making more change for women then I hope to accomplish.” 

At this, the staff scoffed. Pandora cleaned up your dishes from the kitchen island in front of you. 

“Your Highness, with the utmost respect, you are the one who is going to do more for women than this Whistledown. Everybody already wants someone other than your kind brother on the throne. They’re all praying your niece gives them any child so they may protest for her with the added benefit of an heir. They love her and what you write about in your letters make her seem even better. Hell, they love you and they don’t even know you. They listen to you. And with your words, Princess Charlotte the Younger will be on the throne and you will prove women are more than capable of whatever and we might have real change. Is she still on board?” 

“Yes. She hates her father as much as anyone else does. George is nice once you get to know him… sort of. But Lettie approves as long as I agree to be in her court. I said yes of course.” 

“Then it is settled. Thank God we might actually get change in our wretched lives. Now you must wash up and oversee the Bridgerton gowns before they are sent off. Shall we pick certain ones from your wardrobe?” 

“Give the Diamond the one with lace and her family’s colors. Pick whatever you want for the rest of them. Oh and patterns must be on the Feather mother’s dress. I noticed she wears the most ill-favored ornamented dresses but she seems to like them. And put in an order with the modiste, I should like to do this often if this first gesture goes well and the gift wardrobe will need more clothes than it has at present. Clothes for the lower classes as well, nothing that could get them attacked and the clothes stolen off their bodies.” 

“Yes, Your Highness.”  

“And, by the way, I already washed up.” 

“Yes, but now you’ve been sitting amongst smoke and smells.” 

You gave up your fight and nodded as you jumped down from your stool and began the walk to your room. No one was around today. They wouldn’t be for most of the social season as they had other duties, including watching your siblings. Despite your madness, you weren’t the biggest concern at all. It was your rakish brothers in brothels, your sisters constantly leaving their husbands or suitors, and all of them sneaking away. You paused for a moment before walking quicker until you reached your room. 

Why couldn’t you sneak out? Now would be the perfect opportunity. And no one was looking for you. It would be so easy to scale the vines up the garden wall and just have fun for a moment. You washed up quickly and put on a very simple dress — one more like the style of today rather than your father’s time. Grabbing a cloak and your mask, you put them down on the bed before sitting down at your writing desk to pen a letter. The slam of the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. You calmed as you realized it was just Pandora. 

“Oh, good. It is just you.” 

“I have the Bridgerton and Featherington dresses but what do you mean it is just me, Y/N?” 

You stood up, abandoning the letter now that someone was around. “I am going out to see the ton.” 

“What?” 

“It is still dark. I have a map, my cloak, and the mask. And I have a very clear destination with vehicles that will get me back in the most discreet of ways should I need to use them.” 

“Your Highness.” 

“Pandora. I am nearing my introduction to society. You will all have to let me go at some point. I know everyone cares for my wellbeing but my happiness is gone. I am seen as nothing but my illness. Before I have an episode in public like the king, let me meet the ton. Let me not be Farmer Y/N for a brief moment of my life before I am a farmer forever, before I stay in that garden just like Father.” 

Pandora’s mouth shut. She simply locked the door and unlocked the window. “You must return before your midmorning promenade and snack. Since you ate downstairs, I can convince them to overlook your absence of a breakfast request. And don’t take your mask. It’s better if they don’t know who you are at all.” 

She gasped as you hugged her. 

“Thank you, Pandora! Thank you! You are truly the bestest friend a woman could have.” 

“Just go so you can come back quickly and I can have my sanity back.” 

You closed the window, shocking Pandora as you pulled a picture frame off the wall to reveal a staircase that led outside. The door was hidden behind the trellis covered in vines and flowers. You pulled the hood over the cloak over you. The last thing you did was check for your bracelet and if your papers were inside. Until you were introduced to society, all the royal children had bracelets that couldn’t come off unless cut off. There were just in case measures with the eldest two but became necessary after so many nights sneaking out. The bracelet wasn’t going anywhere but you didn’t want to lose your birth certificate. It was your first safety measure. Even if you were kidnapped or harmed, you’d be returned to the palace for a pretty penny. You did pull your sleeves down so your bracelet wouldn’t be noticed.  

You couldn’t contain your smile at the excitement of being out. London was so different without all the noise. The brothels and pubs were starting to close down for their few hours of rest and relaxation. You stuck to streets where you could see all the action but wouldn’t be easily spotted. No one bothered you until you arrived at your destination. 

The footman stood to attention. “May I help you?” 

“Yes, hello. I bring a package from Buckingham House for the Bridgertons, courtesy of Princess Y/N.” You handed him a letter with your official stamp at the end of it. 

The footman’s eyes went wide as he handed you back the letter and ran inside. The Bridgertons looked up at the frantic knocking, pulling slips over Hyacinth and Daphne before telling the footman he could enter. The Bridgerton boys came upstairs after hearing the heavy pounding of their employee’s footsteps running up the multiple stairs. 

“Is there a problem, Marshall?” 

He panted before taking in a deep breath. “The Young Princess’ lady-in-waiting is here, bearing gifts.” 

“WHAT?!” 

The Bridgertons collectively yelled before the scramble happened. You tilted your head when you saw the windows open and a maid shake out some bedsheets. She squeaked when she looked down to see you. You laughed as she ran back inside. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you were escorted into the house by a very out of breath footman. The Bridgertons stood on the steps at the end of their entrance hall in chronological order with their mother starting the line at the very bottom step. Nervous smiles graced their faces when you finally reached them. You curtsied to which they curtsied or bowed back. 

You gave them a second to assess you before speaking. Even though it wasn’t true in the slightest, everyone thought the ladies-in-waiting and manservants were reflections of the royals themselves. Not in character or value but in appearance. They figured they could form some sort of picture as to what the young masked royals looked like. If you were ugly then surely the princess was too. You hoped they at least found you to be average looking in appearance. 

Anthony Bridgerton — the new head of house from what you remembered of your studies — stepped from behind his mother to greet you formally. He bowed once again, deeper, before offering up his hand. You settled yours in it to receive a chaste kiss. 

“To what do we owe this sudden pleasure, Mrs…” 

“Beckett,” you lied, just using Pandora’s last name. 

“Mrs. Beckett?” He didn’t recognize the name as one belonging to an upper class member of the ton. He wasn’t sure he recognized the name at all. 

“Apologies, I should explain. The princess doesn’t distinguish in her court, we are all there to work. All women are ladies-in-waitings, all men are valets. Regardless of station, regardless of marriage.” 

“So, I am to take it that my earlier statement was incorrect.” 

You nodded. “Simply Miss Beckett.” 

“Well that sounds like very forward thinking actually. All the same, it is our pleasure to meet anyone in her highness’ court.” 

Violet smiled as she watched the interaction. If her son was close to anyone in the princess’ court, especially someone that seemed so close to the princess as to be sent here, then he would be able to meet the princess with good graces. He’d be ahead of any man by leagues. 

“Princess Y/N has sent me on her behalf. She extends warm greetings to the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons whom I will meet after our encounter. The princess congratulates Miss Daphne Bridgerton for earning Diamond of the Season as well as congratulations to the Dowager Viscountess for raising such a fine woman and to Viscount Bridgerton for chaperoning and keeping the family together therefore allowing his sister to shine.” 

He cleared his throat and started to smile. “Please give the princess all of our thanks for the most kind of compliments.” 

“And she would like to assure Miss Bridgerton that I have not been sent on behalf of any princes. Her brothers will not be bothering you today.” 

They all chuckled when you laughed. 

You set the first box down on the table next to you and opened it. “The princess has brought new dresses for the ball. The Diamond and the rest of her family should have the opportunity to shine with the utmost and wholehearted respect and support of the Crown. Please, enjoy them.” 

The family ran to the table, picking out dresses and suits and matching them to the person’s name on the paper pinned to each garment. They kept singing praises and admiring the outfits. Violet turned back to you. 

“When are you planning on visiting the Featheringtons?” 

“In an hour or so, I must be back before the princess’ morning promenade. She has a very busy day afterwards.” 

“Will the princess be introducing herself this season?” 

“Hyacinth!” Anthony and Violet yelled at the same time. 

You laughed. “It is no trouble. I’m at liberty to answer as the princess’ head valet.” 

“Valet? I thought you said they were all men. They are usually all men.” 

“If the princess should become heir to the throne then she will receive a male valet alongside me. For now, it is just me. The Crown believes someone of the same gender should always be with her should she need to confide in someone about very personal matters.” You took a breath before testing the waters. “Such as affections of the heart.” 

It had dawned on you in that moment that you could spy on the ton. When the time came, you would still have to dance with all the bachelors of the United Kingdom but you at least you would have a better picture of them. You’d have to apologize to Pandora for the countless strokes she was about to earn from you but you couldn’t make this your only time sneaking out.  

Violet smiled, knowing she was right. “Well, would you like to stay for breakfast?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“It would be no trouble at all. We have more than enough room. Eloise, dear, if Penelope is to come over please request that she do so now.”

(part 2)

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[kairiscorner]

is this the start of a new series?

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

miggy and his feelings for you (after an argument).

a/n: ok so this is kind of an extension of the "miggy's sole friend" fic, but you can read this as-is.

summary: you had an argument with miguel, and this time, you did something unexpected of you: you walked out on him. instead of getting mad at you, he got scared. he knew you all his life and could never remember a time when he didn't know you. he wants to apologize and admit to you once and for all how he feels about you, what you make him feel now that you've left him for the time being, and how he's... oh, is he really saying it? how sorry he is about his shitty attitude towards you.

word count: 2,440 (wowza)

it was certainly an experience being miguel o'hara's... only friend ever since, well, forever. you had other friends of your own, but the one who you knew the best and who knew you best was none other than miguel. you two knew each other pretty well, like the back of each other's hands. you two knew everything there was to know about the other; be it a favorite color, their 7th birthday, that time they broke their right arm in two places, the name of the second pet they owned, where your beauty marks were most prominent, and just about every other little detail there was to remark about each other.

you lauded yourself as an observant person, as someone who could look at something and see a thousand unnoticed details that a lot of other people never looked twice at, or even caught at first glance. it was due to this aptitude of yours to be able to know where to look and what to for that you became friends with miguel, even when he was a difficult little brat when you first met him.

his snarkiness and sarcasm was palpable and irritating, he mouthed off anyone he pleased, which was not for pleasure; he hated having to point out everyone else's incompetencies--but rather out of an insecurity of himself, a sort of allusion to how he wanted people to understand him, but how he struggles with understanding himself in the first place. he did it to feel safe, and you could see right through him when a lot of other people were turning away from the poor boy.

little did you know that your decision to befriend him would be the decision that saved miguel from himself. you saved him from his loneliness, you became the sole person in his life to make the first move and stick with him, no matter how difficult he became towards you or how aggressive he was at times.

of course, you two never saw eye-to-eye all the time; but you two genuinely got along a lot. you two would complain to each other, compliment each other, taunt and make banter with each other, you two were each other's companion, never complete without the other. but you two would also have disagreements, and when you had disagreements, miguel would be convinced he was right. at least, he used to think he was always right.

but one time, you storm out and got out of his face after an argument. he thought to himself he did nothing wrong, you were wrong. you were always the one thinking you were right, that you knew everything there was to know about a person, that you could do no wrong, that... you were the only person in his life that really understood him.

...this feeling is shit.

he had never felt that feeling before, of being walked out on, being left alone for being difficult and demanding. he knew the world couldn't give him everything, but he just wished, this once, that he could restrain himself and quell his ego for once so you wouldn't get sick of him.

oh, please, please don't be sick of him. he was a grown adult, he could take rejection in the face by anyone but you. he was frightened of what would happen if you one day stopped seeing him, stopped talking to him, or worse, managed to forget he even existed.

the gnawing feeling of despondency and probing the thought of you leaving him alone when you were the only, only person who understood him. lyla didn't count, she was made by him; the people of the spider society didn't count either, they were either scared shitless of him or understood his need for order and justice--not the person who believed in those ideals.

you did save him from his loneliness, but that didn't mean he was doing fine without you. if miguel could put a label on the feelings you gave him when he was without you, it'd be, "an utter, soul-crushing weight on my chest that grows the longer you're gone". and if he was without you because of his own actions, it'd be, "an immense regret of having ever done that to you, and if i could go back in time to punch myself to stop me from doing it, i would. in a heartbeat, i would".

miguel couldn't focus right throughout the day, every time he would try to listen to a report or look through the multiverse's canon events and occurences, his mind would always shift his attention the other way, to that nagging, unrelenting voice in his head that keeps screaming at him, "i need to talk to them. i need them back here, i'm... scared. i'm scared without them."

miguel had a hubris, and as often as he denied it, it always showed ceaselessly; but he attempted to put it aside for a minute and think of what to say to get you to stay with him for a few seconds longer, see you again even if you didn't want to see him; he just really wanted you right then and there with him, and he was so sorry he let himself get to you with his stupid, stupid pride.

"lyla," he called for the ai assistant. "now before you tell me to call them up so you can keep screaming, count me out. as a virtual assistant, i have rights." she said as she pulled up a monitor. miguel shook his head. "no, i'm not gonna yell anymore, no screaming, i just... wanna talk to them, in a civil manner." he emphasized the latter parts, with lyla slowly nodding in a sarcastic manner.

"well, have you ever thought that maybe they don't want to hear from you right now?" she asked miguel, looking at him quizzically. he sighed. "i've thought about it. and i'm done letting my thoughts dictate what i do." he said as lyla called you, miguel's thoughts racing in his mind, contesting against one another and contradicting each other. all the apologies he wants to tell you because he never told you before, all the genuine compliments he wants to tell you because he doesn't think you've heard enough of them in your life, let alone from him--all the thanks he has for you saving him the day you approached him and stood your ground in your desire to befriend him...

he wants you to know more than the "everything" you swore to have known about him, from the good and the bad, from the beautiful to the ugly; this is the one thing you and your astuteness never caught.

"what? i'm--" you began as you appeared on the other side of the screen, visibly irritated at miguel's impromptu call, but miguel cut you off.

"i'm in love with you." he blurted out without hesitation. the minute he saw you, the minute his breath was hitched in his throat as he caught sight of the most perfect person in the world, the one who toughed out every single time he was being a hard-headed bastard... he had to tell you how he felt. or at least, the only words that have so much meaning, yet so many meanings no matter how often it is uttered or how it is said.

"i'm... in love with you." he repeated, in a slower voice, a voice that wanted to take you gently by the hand and lead you through each syllable and pause as if it were like teaching one how to walk after being debilitated and bed-ridden. he ran a hand through his hair and placed his other hand on his waist as you remained silent, waiting to hear if he was roped into some prank by the knuckleheaded fools in the spider society somehow, if this was his "canon event" or whatever else he spouted out as a mandate through his authority as the leader of this "elite force of heroes".

you soon broke the silence when he didn't say anything with a cough.

he stared up at you, your face presented on the monitors in an larger ratio. he opened his mouth to speak, but he took a few seconds to collect his thoughts. "i... realized i've been selfish, i've been a bossy, arrogant, self-absorbed... pendejo." he finished with a deep breath in as he sighed. he knew that he was a bastard to you, has been and... probably will always be, even if he doesn't want to.

he wants to change, but he's painfully aware that his admission to all the things he's been called over the years didn't only hurt his pride, it hurt you because you knew he hardly changed from before. "okay." you said as you angled the camera of your phone better to get a good look at him. "so what?" you asked, trying to sound angry after he let his pride down just to see how true this change in attitude really was.

he scratched the back of his neck and peered up at you as his head was hung. "so i, uh... i wanted to admit it. estoy enamorado de ti. i'm... dammit." he said softly as he lost what he was going to say, just letting loose that spanish phrase he's wanted to tell you ever since you won him over with your beautiful smile, that ceaselessly sweet charisma of yours, and that patience and strength you had when it came to bearing with him and everything he puts you through.

"...i know, i don't deserve you. you don't deserve this overly dependent manchild you probably think of--" he continued, but you cut him off with a sarcastic chuckle. "oh it's not just probably, you are a manchild." you corrected, to which he nodded along. "right, right, i suppose you're..." he trailed off, not wanting to relent at that appraisal of his true, uninhibited nature. "...you're right." he finally admitted.

"but the matter of fact is that i am completely in love with you and want nothing more than for you to know i am so, so sorry for my idiocy, my inadequacy, my... every kind of 'cy i've lacked and... should be making up to you in ways that aren't just limited to calling you when you're clearly busy with work." he said in a quieted voice as he went on.

"i'm nothing without you, and i know i come off as dramatic, needy, or just straight up pathetic as shit, but it's the truth. i need you like i need air, you understand me when i can't even understand myself. i need you, so much, and i'd do anything to just keep you remembering me, even just one last time before you decide to cut me off from your life fore-- why are you laughing?" he asked as he heard a few chuckles escape your pursed lips as the corners of your mouth quivered, trying to conceal your laugh, to stifle it so he doesn't notice, but he does.

"you're just so extra, you know that?" you point out with a fit of giggles as miguel sighs, a small smile forming on his face. "well what can i say? it's the truth, and nothing but the truth. you deserve so much more, and i understand if you don't want me, too, but i..." he cuts himself off again as he hears the doors to his office open, looking at your video feed and noting the background looked exactly like the layout of his office. from the dimness of the light to the small, intricate carvings on the walls--it was an exact replica of his office. soon, he connected the dots together, and realized a little too late you were in the room, smiling slyly to yourself the whole time as he looked from the monitors to your face that was now close to his.

"and i can be a little extra with my entrance, too." you quipped as you leaned over and gave him a hug. "even if you're a hardass pendejo like you say you are... i'll never forget you. and i won't leave you, not like that. not when i'm..." you drifted off as you looked up at him, holding him tighter as his breath hitched in his throat, admiring how small you appeared below him, how warm and loving your touch was, how... delicately you held him, as if you didn't plan on hurting him despite how you had every right to get angry with him for being so conceited and prideful.

"...not when i'm in love with you, too." you admitted as you buried your face in his chest, leaving in your wake a blushing, heated mess of a man as you nuzzled yourself further into him. "i just wanted to hear you admit it, first." you said with a chuckle as he slowly carded your hair in his hands, wondering to himself if this moment was real, was supposed to happen, was going to happen all along? all the events that led to this very euphoric, heavenly moment; and he wouldn't waste a second.

he leaned over to you, and as you pulled away from his chest, he brushed his nose over yours in an attempt to seize your soft, plush lips which he yearned for too damn long. he kissed you, and you found yourself kissing him back. he savored your taste, the feeling of your lips on his was too perfect, too right; he could do this for the rest of his life if you were up for it, kissing you until you knew just how much he loved you--which not even he could tell you, either, not with you constantly stealing his heart and attention all the time.

"i'll work on not being so unbearable all the time... i just want to, to hold you like this," he said as he reciprocated your touch and wrapped his arms around your waist gently, pulling you closer to him as he felt your racing heartbeat, and you felt his own in yours.

your hearts beating together in perfect harmony, as if each of your hearts responded to the other. "if it means i can keep you for eternity, i'd stop being a prideful bastard and admit i'm wrong, admit you're the greatest, that you're amazing, you're... perfect." he finished as he kissed your forehead, apologizing still for all that he did, with you giggling and telling him it's okay, but he has a whole lot to do to make up for it.

luckily for you... he's always up for a challenge.

a/n: man i fr thought i had writer's block while making this, it was a bluff, i just got tired and lazy LMAO but hoping y'all enjoyed :> TYSM TO @jrrantss FOR THE HELP IN THE SPANISH TRANSLATION, it's so fucking romantic, ako'y kinikilig super tyyy <333

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @jrrantss @luvstarrstruck

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about Inumaki Toge being insecure about his speech (or the lack of thereof).

I feel like if he could trade a year of his life for sixty seconds without his cursed speech, he would. Without second thought. And specially because of you.

He's had a crush on you for a while (ever since your first encounter), but he'd never admit it. Not because he's scared of rejection, but because he's scared you'll reciprocate his feelings. Because he thinks you deserve better. Actually, scratch that: he knows you deserve better. You deserve someone so much better than him.

"And then you won't believe what he said! He said: 'I can't date you, cause I'm actually your brother!'"

"No way! That's the plot of the movie? How shitty!"

You deserve someone like Yuta. Someone who can make you laugh with their own words, someone who you don't need to strugle to understand what they're saying. Right now, you and Okkotsu are talking about some bad movie he watched. And you're laughing so hard and your laugh is so pretty it makes him wanna laugh too. He wants to engage on the conversation. He wants to say: "That's one of the worst plots I've ever seen! I can take you to the movies to see a real good movie if you'd like to"

But he can't. He can't, but Yuta can. He should let you go so you can be with someone who deserves you. He has no right to be this selfish, making you a slave of a love without any words of affection.

It feels like everytime he looks at you, there's a nagging voice in the back of his head, painfully reminding him that he can't be with you, and there's nothing he can do about it. It's an impossible love.

Hell, even Panda is making him feel envious and jealous. Even though he's literally a panda, at least he can talk to you. Sing your favorites songs with you. And he can't. At least not without cursing someone (and, God forbid, maybe even you. You're the last person he wants to harm)

He wanted you to confide in him just like how you confide in Maki. You always tell her everything. He wishes he, too, could be a source of relief. A shoulder you can rely on. But he can't. He can't, cause the best he could say in that situation is "Salmon", "Caviar" and other stupid onigiri ingredients that have nothing to do with the actual topic of the conversation. Honestly, he would be tired of himself if he was his friend. You don't have the obligation to understand his dialogue. Nobody does.

So, he comes to the conclusion that he should just avoid you. He should give up on loving you, because he doesn't want you to suffer.

"Toge, please! We haven't talked in days! Why did you suddenly stop talking to me?"

He stays silent. That's the only thing he can do, after all. He can't speak. He can't. But he wishes he could. He wishes he could tell you everything that's going through his head, tell you about how he feels like dying when he sees you playing a game with Itadori and Nobara because he knows he'll never be capable of doing that with you normally. If he speaks now, everything that'll come out of his mouth are foods. Speaking now would only remind him about the drift that exists between you both (and there's two options to avoid anyone's fall: you either close the gap or you widen it. He chose the latter)

"..."

"Inumaki, talk to me" (how sad. You want him to do exactly the only thing he can't do. That just makes him remember that he'll never be enough for you. Never)

Also, wow. You're using his last name. He got in a really bad situation, huh? How will he get out of this? How will he stop your (and also his) suffering?

There's only one way. And even though he swore that he'd never use his spell against you, he finds himself lowering his scarf with trembling hands.

"Leave. And don't look back."

~A/N: This is the fic I wrote that I mentioned on my last post!! I know a lot of people have writen abt this b4, so this is inspired by other stories I've read (if you've written something like this and want me to credit you, feel free to send me an ask!!). IT JUST FITS INUMAKI CHARACTER SO MUCHHH!! Like, I can totally imagine him being insecure about not being able to speak. I just thought I should give it a try cause I CAN'T FIND INUMAKI STUFF, so I took matters into my own hands. I don't realy like this, but I thought it would be a waste to not post it anyway

Masterlist

[c1eepypas1a]

Can you do some dark Dean Winchester smut? With an age gap, daddy kink, and virgin reader?

A/n: I can only try, this is my first smut pls don't make fun, plus I dunno how to do the writing color change thingy, cringe ahh title name (plus: this is fictional, I know it's fucked up but honestly I've been through shit like this, and if you don't like it, don't read it, there are multiple fics like this, I'm just doing what people want okay?)

Parings: dean Winchester x fem! Virgin!sub! Reader (I can do a male version if it's not supposed to be fem)

Warnings: age gap (dean is 29 reader is 18, daddy kink, dean forcing reader to call him daddy/dean calling himself daddy, non-con, pain for the reader, forced oral (m!rec), tit palming/slapping, slight choking, kissing, swearing, obviously Dom!dean and sub!fem! Reader, nipple play (for like a second), crying, blood (slightly yk since she's a virgin)

"Please, don't...daddy."

*gif isn't mine I got it from Pinterest*

*readers pov*

Me and dean have been friends for awhile now, he thinks I'm stupid, that I don't know about all the staring or lingering touches when he's fixing up my wounds, I hate the looks, I remember when it all changed, when he changed

*flashback*

I smile as I walk into my house with jo, I jump as everyone shouts surprise at me,my dad, bobby singer walks up to me "wow kid, the big 18, do you feel older yet." He smiles warmly and I smile "uh, yeah I guess." I giggle, dean makes a backhanded joke about me finally being legal,

Sam rolls his eyes "dude, your almost thirty, stop being so gross, you knew her when she was in pigtails." Dean grumbles and hands me a present, telling me to open it later when nobody's around and his hand lingers on my shoulder,

That night I open the gift dean gave me, a fucking vibrator, in the shape of a rose and a photo of him, gripping his clothed hard cock, I quickly throw it under my bed along with the vibrator and I pretend nothing ever happened.

*end of flashback*

I walk into the motel room, I look at dean who's binging through channels on the tv "where's Sam?." I sit down next to him, "gone to get food." I nod and I continue to watch the tv, dean lands on a horror movie,

My eyes wander to the hand he placed on my thigh, I don't move it nor I say anything and I get back to watching the shit gore on the tv, "you know sweetheart, sammy's gonna be gone for a while." He says in his usual flirty tone, his hand sliding more up, I push his hand back down, "so what if he's going to be gone." I say feigning my clueless tone, bile rises in my throat as I feel his eyes move down from my face to my tits, "means we could find other things to do then this shitty ass movie." He grips my thigh tighter, borderlining on pain "d-dean what the fuc-" I'm cut off by his lips on mine,

I try to push him away and get up but he pins me down and he tsk's "no, your not going anywhere, I've waited to fucking long for you, I'm not letting you go now." He smirks and starts to undo and push down his jeans "as much as I want your cunt, I'm gonna use your mouth first."

He manhandles me so I'm on my knees, tears sting my cheeks and he smiles condescendingly, "oh baby, you started this, this is your fault, parading in your short shorts and your tight shirts, wearing no bra thinking I won't notice." He says, gripping my hair with one hand and palming my tits and thumbing at my nipples with the other, against my mind praying for this to stop, my body reacts, my nipples getting hard and my cunt getting wet, he smirks at me, pushing down his jeans, leaving himself in his boxers, the imprint of his dick visible,

He stops palming at my breasts and pulls his boxers down, his hard cock slaps against his stomach, leaking pre-cum at the angry red tip, "open up for daddy." He smirks but I don't, I keep my mouth shut and he gets visibly annoyed, he grips my hair tighter and then his other hand closes my nose, "c'mon baby, you gotta breathe soon." He says in a condescending tone,

I try my hardest but I finally open my mouth to breath, he quickly shoves his cock down my throat, I gag and spit forms around my lips and his length, he lets go of my nose and I try to breathe but its hard, "you know, this all could of been avoided if you didn't play fucking coy with me.", he says as he practically skull fuck's me, gripping my face and hair, thrusting his hips roughly,

After about 5 minutes he finally pulls away, I take a deep breath of air,tears streaming down my face, he roughly pulls me up against him, his cock against my clothed stomach, he pushes me down and sits in between my legs, trying to push my shirt up but I twist and I turn to get away, "c'mon babygirl, the less you resist, the less it'll hurt your little virgin pussy." I whimper at those words,

After what felt like forever of struggling, he finally gets my clothes off of me, leaving me in my panties, "lace...it's like you asked for me to fuck you.", I cry at those words "c'mon baby tell me how much you want this, tell daddy how much you want his big cock to stretch you open." He grins sadistically, I stay silent and dean doesn't like that, I feel his hand strike my left breast, "say it!." He shouts in my face, I whimper and I finally speak with a scared tone, "i-i want d-daddy's big cock to stretch me open." He smirks, "that's a girl.",

"please don't...daddy."

That's all I can say hoping that will please him but before I know it he thrusts into me, pain shoots through my whole body and I start to cry again "awe, baby don't cry, daddy's got you." He says as he fuck's me faster, taking away the one thing I thought I could control, but I can't, I'm helpless as he takes it from me, I feel liquid down at my pussy and I look down, I notice the crimson liquid leak down my cunt,

"I fucking knew you would bleed, don't worry sweetheart, it won't hurt that much anymore.", he says as he fuck's me harder, it hurts, no pleasure from it, I beg for him to stop, I cry to god that it'll be over soon and before I know it, I feel him pull out and his cum spurt on my tits and stomach, I feel dirty as dean kisses me before he flops down beside me and cuddles me, like he didn't just destroy me, exhaustion takes over me, before I slip into sleep I hear dean mutter something and I fall asleep.

*the end*

(a/n: my first smut, I hope it was good, if there is any mistakes or anything you didn't like please tell me, I'm sorry it's so short, I wrote this at 1am.)

[bloodyquillink-blog]

White at Your Wedding, Ghosts HC’s

Prompt: How the Ghosts would react to someone wearing white at your wedding.

A/N🪶: Hello again. To anyone who may have been keeping up with my fic “Sugar and Lemon”, I’m sorry I haven’t been writing. Between creative juices for the fic running out as well as school, I haven’t been as motivated. However, I do want to continue it. I just need to find the right time. I’m doing summer classes otherwise I probably would be working on it now. It’s just overwhelming at this point. But I still want to give y’all something with the Ghosts since I know a lot of people in that part of the fandom don’t usually get a lot unless it’s with (typically) Keegan. Nothing wrong with that, I just want to include more of them, especially more underrated characters like Ajax and David/Hesh. Thanks for reading this blurb <3

HC Note/TW: May include descriptions/mentions of weapons, violence/violent intentions, shitty people, harassment. Please note: I’m gonna make this AU style where Rorke wasn’t turned and no one was killed because I said so. Reader is gn so their groomsmen/bridesmaids will just be referred to as your “friends on the side”. 

I made a separate one for David because I love him, find that here

Storyline:

He was almost done getting ready. Today was finally that day, that beautiful day that he never thought would happen. Between the world gradually being broken down each time it was nearly put back up, he had expected to be killed in action like everyone else. But perhaps fate was on his side for now. He knew better than to expect everything to run smoothly, though. 

With two different people from two different families, someone was bound to have some opinions. It was just a matter of whether or not they voiced it. Of course, he had made plans just in case. He was getting married to you and there was no way in hell, heaven or on this Earth someone was going to stop that. They could interrupt the wedding all they wanted to, however they pleased. They could set the whole damn thing on fire, but he’d still marry you. 

He tried not to think about how beautiful you’d look, lest he start blushing. It didn’t work but the attempt was worth it, despite the pestering the other Ghosts would no doubt lay upon him. 

The time came and he stood on the slightly elevated stage, groomsmen and best man at his side. Normally, he doesn’t wear white but this is a wedding… his wedding… his and yours wedding. His back was to the hallway you would walk out of, so he kept looking to the faces of his friends and family for any indication. His heart beat was relatively controlled… and then the music began playing… and they smiled… and the officiant gave him the look to turn around. So he did.

And by God, you were ethereal. He couldn’t tell if his heart stopped or was beating so fast he could no longer feel it. His brain was short-circuiting. You had made your way up to the stage, your friends on the side smiling. He just stared, had he been smiling since he saw you? His cheeks were hurting already. You looked up at him, your smile like the sun, he couldn’t care less about going blind if it meant the image of you would be imprinted in his eyes.

Logan Walker

This man would be trying so hard not to panic.

He almost gets whiplash from how fast his head turned to David who, alongside Merrick, would pipe up and tell off the person.

Logan would have been prepared in a rather classy way. 

See… There’s a thing where, if someone wears white at a wedding, especially a dress, the bridesmaids can take wine and pour it on them, effectively ruining the dress.

Logan absolutely has heard of this and got your friends the cheapest wine possible.

Logan looks at your friends and signals to them to get the wine. 

One of them moves around closer to them so their attention is away from the friends with the wine.

David and Merrick tell them that they need to leave.

As they get up to get in their face, wine is poured on them.

They yell and fuss, claiming you and Logan are going to pay for their outfit as they stomp out of the room. 

You, not having expected this, stand there. Your hands are held by Logans and your mouth hangs open.

Your friends smile at you, David and Merrick chuckling to themselves as they all come back to their original positions.

You struggle to form coherent words.

“Did you- when did- where’d the wine come from?! Was that planned?!”

And the wedding continues, the smell of wine and the sound of laughter flowing through the air.

Elias T. “Scarecrow” Walker'

You know this man would be willing to drag out the guilty party himself. 

I fully believe he’d pick them up and carry them outside. 

Otherwise he’d probably set up his other comrades to be guards so people don’t try to get in.

I could imagine it being an old ex or probably a family member he hates. None of the soldiers he knows would dare do that to someone like him, he’s garnered so much respect from them over the years.

Any one of his friends, whether groomsmen or guests, I know they’d all stick up for him as he just watches with a smile.

Thomas A. Merrick

Roasts the ever loving shit out of whoever is wearing white.

“If you’re gonna wear white, at least pick an outfit that fits you right.”

“Did you get that from Walmart? I think I saw that when I went last week.”

“That would look better on Riley, but hey, who am I to judge?”

I know the person would willingly walk out without having to be escorted, due to embarrassment.

Gabriel T. Rorke

I can’t see him having a very public wedding. There is a very short list of people allowed and if there’s someone he doesn’t know, he’s meeting them beforehand.

If someone dared to wear white, well…

As all eyes are on them as they stand, showing off the color that was only meant for the two of you, he takes the opportunity since everyone is distracted.

He slowly reaches and shifts his white suit jacket, lifting just the edge, enough for the offender to see the gun, or other weapon, he has tucked away.

He lets go so he looks normal again, while the person is left with wide eyes, suddenly nervous.

They leave with minimal issue and everything resumes, people are left confused but eventually shrug it off as Rorke having intimidated them with his presence alone.

Keegan P. Russ

Keegan would be the type where, prior to the wedding, he expects everyone to show what they are planning on wearing.

He makes sure the two of you set guidelines so it is absolutely clear that if anyone tries to come in wearing white, they will be thrown out and not allowed back in. 

This man does not leave room for error. 

He takes advantage of having your friends/family’s (bridesmaids/groomsmen) contact info so he can keep an eye on everything.

Would absolutely sweet talk your grandparents or parents into keeping him informed whenever possible, especially if there’s gossip (Keegan loves gossip and you can’t tell me otherwise).

Alex V. “Ajax” Johnson

He wouldn’t bring weapons like Rorke or make snide comments like Merrick.

This is a man of respect, and while he’d be annoyed, he’d be prepared.

As people turned around and gasped and gossiped, he’d remain calm and relaxed despite his comrades wanting to push the person out.

He’d want them to be politely escorted out and you wouldn’t have to do anything.

Naturally, he’s fuming but this is your wedding after all. He maintains his composure.

If the person speaks up, they’ll be escorted out. If not, I can imagine him letting them stay, not wanting to waste time and probably continuing to marry you out of spite and right before the dinner, they suddenly aren’t allowed in.

They’re edited out of any photos they may have forced their way into, everyone basically ignores them. 

I love you, Ajax <3

Kick

This guy is just getting married privately.

Mostly just because regular weddings are so hectic and frankly, he isn’t much of a people person but he still wants to marry you.

[lookingfts]

The trolls are back - here's how to deal with them

The anon harassers are back in the fandom after a hiatus, and I know this is an especially sensitive time for a lot of people. So I just want to share a few things (that can apply to any fandom) about my experience and how I've dealt with them in the past.

First, and this is the single most important thing, the harassment is NOT about you or your story. It is 1000% entirely about them. There was a time when the stories that got attacked were about specific themes they didn't enjoy. Then it was just every story that was remotely popular. Now, who even knows, it's just everything. Do you know what that tells me? It's not about the writer, or the story. (They've attacked some of THE most talented writers in the fandom and some of THE best stories.) It's about their jealousy over someone else creating something that is loved by others. It's their jealousy over not knowing what their purpose is in life and not knowing what they have to give, so rather than figuring that out, they'll just attack people who have found their gift. So, fuck them for that.

Second! Please believe me that I understand if this impacts your mental health. It's straight up cyberbullying, and that sucks, especially when you're making yourself vulnerable by putting your heart into something and sharing it with the world. So I will not judge you if you need to take a step back. But I would argue that the better way to give them the finger is to ignore them and keep doing what you enjoy. They've already chased several authors out of the fandom, and it clearly hasn't satisfied them at all - they won't be happy until every last person stops writing, for some fucking reason.

Third, here's how I got rid of (the vast majority of) the harassment, as I was getting it pretty bad at one point. First, change your comments on AO3 to "Only registered users can comment." You might literally have to go back and do it for all your stories. It's a pain in the ass, and it cuts off users without an account from commenting, and I know that sucks. But I promise it will solve 90% of the problem.

For shitty comments from a registered account, just go ahead and block those people.

If they send you asks on Tumblr (I get those too), just keep blocking. Go to your inbox, click the three dots in the top right corner of the message, and hit Block sender. You can even do this with Anonymous asks, and it will block Anonymous messages from THAT sender without blocking Anonymous asks altogether (a feature I dearly wish AO3 would adopt).

You can also report comments on AO3 and Tumblr - I'm not much of an expert in this, but it's an option.

There were other steps I had to take, but I don't want to give the harassers any ideas (I know they read my posts). So if you have issues beyond this, feel free to reach out to me directly and I can share more, or help you figure out how to deal with it.

I hope this helps. Fic writing is a fun, beautiful creative expression with a wonderful community and I am sick of watching people be pushed out of it. It is not a reflection on your talent, and if anything, shows me that the harasser read and liked your fic and THAT is what pisses them off. If it was truly bad, they wouldn't care. I love all of you writers, and I believe in you, and I am here for you. Together, there are so many more of us than there are of them.

[striveattemptfail]

Feel your way | Logan Howlett/Wade Wilson, 2.7k, NC-17

@poolvertober: Day 8 – Bloodbath

Summary: Yet another Honda Odyssey fic lol. TW: Canon-typical violence and body horror, plus smut. Read on Ao3

A/N: Title from You're the One That I Want from Grease because it's right there. Horrifically un-beta'd and I'd apologize but my eyeballs will fall out their sockets if I have to proofread this one more time /o\

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

“I take it all back—the Honda Odyssey fucks hard,” Wade breathes out, head lolling with perverse satisfaction. He lifts the hand holding baby knife to beckon Logan back to him, two fingers curled and teasing. “Too bad you don’t, needle dick.”

Logan rises to the bait. “Oh, we’re just getting started, bub.”

And Logan leaps towards him again with a roar, claws sinking into Wade’s chest cavity. When he pulls his claws out for another attack, Wade manages to grab one of Logan’s arms to stab him clean through the tricep, but Logan uses the connection to pull Wade into leaning sideways. With Wade’s right side more exposed, Logan’s free hand begins to jab him repeatedly in the temple before moving down to do more of the same to Wade’s shoulder. Wade presses his thigh against Logan’s torso, trying to use his leg to swinging himself upright. He brings up a forearm to block Logan’s wrist, pushing away the claws now slashing at him anywhere they can reach.

The symphony of metal against metal, metal penetrating flesh, and the Honda groaning from the violence accompany his and Logan’s grunts and growls, the occasional curse and insult dotting their fucked up little melody. Body ephemera spews everywhere, flesh and guts continuing to paint the car’s interior like a bloody Jackson Pollock, with glass and ripped up seat fabric also scattered around.

It’s been a long while since Wade fought someone that just won’t fucking quit, most people being lame losers and doing stupid things like dying before he can really get into it. At some point between choking Logan with a seatbelt and Logan’s claws stabbing right through his brain, Wade stopped fighting Logan over his painfully accurate monologue about Wade’s shitty life to fighting Logan because it feels fucking glorious to spar with someone who tosses back just as much as Wade throws at them.

Logan now practically straddles Wade’s leg, his knees bracketing Wade’s right thigh in the backseat of this godforsaken vehicle. He sheathes his claws on one hand, opting to simply smash his knuckles into Wade’s face. The arm not dealing blows (haha, blows) shoves his claws into Wade’s shoulder and onto the seat. Wade is effectively pinned down, but by now he’s only halfheartedly stabbing Logan’s side with baby knife until Logan finally realizes why.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

Logan pauses his fist’s tirade against Wade’s face.

“Whaaat?” he asks innocently, drawling out the syllable. Even though he knows Logan can’t see it right now, a shit-eating grin grows beneath his mask.

Logan scoffs in disgust. “Seriously, bub?” He presses one of his thighs to onto Wade’s very obvious erection.

“Hey, at least this time I’m awake for it!” Wade reasons. “And the only thing keeping me all nice and close is you, old man.” He squirms a little to prove his point, several areas of his body rubbing on Logan.

Logan grunts another noise of disgust. “I don’t understand why you don’t wear a cup, you goddamn lunatic.”

“I’m glad that’s the only issue you have about this, honey badger!” Wade happily quips back. He shifts his hips up, dick deliberately rutting into Logan’s thigh, not even bothering to stifle the pleased moan stuttering out of him. “Can’t say I miss having one on right now.”

With a growl, Logan grabs Wade by the mask and smacks the back of his head hard into the backseat. Wade thinks if he didn’t have whiplash or a concussion before, he definitely has both now.

Pain echoes in his skull as he yells out, “Fuck!”

Logan repeats the action, knocking Wade’s head onto the seat several times in quick succession, his grip on Wade’s mask pulling it halfway off and exposing his mouth. Wade can feel all kinds of bodily fluids—blood, drool, sweat, maybe some snot—dripping down his chin and onto his neck now that his mask isn’t catching the filth.

His body is then slightly jostled from Logan’s manhandling, which allows him to also feel (oh, fuck yes, that’s it) something else.

Logan lets go of his mask, bringing his arm back to unleash his claws with a snikt! He points them right in front of Wade, close enough Wade can basically breathe and close the distance.

“You,” Logan pants hard, nostrils flaring, “are a repulsive piece of shit.”

With his mouth exposed, Wade beams another nasty grin at Logan. It’s the only response he gives before licking one of the claws not even half an inch away from his lips. He cuts his mouth on it, of course, blood flooding everywhere and onto Logan’s claw. But he pays no mind, tilting his head slightly and immediately gliding his tongue down the smooth side of the blade while he meets Logan’s appalled glare.

“You’re a fuckin’ freak.”

Wade’s grin only widens. “And yet.”

He bucks up his hips to meet the growing tent in Logan’s pants. Logan hisses at the contact, looking down at his crotch in what Wade assumes is betrayal before meeting Wade’s gaze again with a sneer.

Because for all the beating he’s being served, there’s no way Wade would let Wolverine’s boner escape his notice since the fucking hypocrite doesn’t wear a cup either. Not that Logan’s dick is possible to ignore in the first place, considering how his clearly generous size is doing its damndest to break free from the jock he’s got on.

Fuck, Wade hopes that claws aren’t the only thing inside him today.

He mouths his way back to the end of the claw, staring Logan in the eyes as he begins to suck the tip into his mouth. He’s slow, actually trying to be careful for once because he doesn’t want to accidentally slice his tongue clean off. He’ll need it when he gets Logan’s cock into his mouth.

He pulls away with a muted pop!, a thin string of blood-tinted spit still connecting his lips to the claw.

“Seems like we match, kitty cat,” Wade croons, lifting his hips up to grind on Logan again. “Maybe my freak just matches yours.”

Logan growls, teeth bared as he digs the claws still in Wade’s shoulder even deeper. Wade unashamedly lets out another moan, and at this point he honestly can’t tell if it’s from pain or pleasure. Probably-most-definitely both.

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan snarls, his other hand still threatening Wade with a lobotomy and then some.

Wade licks the tip of another claw.

“Then fucking make me.”

Logan hisses, pulling his claws out of Wade's shoulder. Wade gasps at the new pain now blooming in his shoulder wounds when Logan cups his hands on Wade’s cheeks and kisses him.

Though, it’s less of a kiss and more like Logan using his mouth to punch Wade’s.

Wade yelps at their teeth clacking together, the sound turning into a long moan when Logan shoves his tongue into his mouth. The kiss immediately turns dirty once Wade’s brain catches up to what’s happening, and Logan shifts to straddle his lap properly. The low groan that escapes Logan’s throat when he sinks into his lap and rubs their clothed boners will make an appearance in Wade’s spank bank for years to come, he’s sure of it.

His hands move to Logan’s waist, halfway to groping Logan’s ass, but he gets distracted by what Logan’s doing with his tongue. Apparently, Wade’s aborted attempt to grope his butt seems like hesitation, because Logan pulls away from Wade’s mouth long enough to growl, dropping a hand to push one of Wade’s onto a pert cheek.

“Either grab it or don’t,” Logan snarls. “None of that half-ass shit.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Wade smirks up at him, both hands sliding to Logan’s ass and gripping.

Logan gasps softly, arching his back to push into Wade’s palms. “Fuck, yes.”

Wade dives in for another kiss, their noses just barely avoiding an accidental, very un-sexy headbutt. Logan tugs at Wade’s mask and pulls it all the way off. Wade would protest because he already knows what Logan thinks of his appearance, but his entire brain is kind of focused on the taut muscles of Logan’s ass beneath his fingers and the taste of Logan’s mouth when he sighs.

“Off, off,” Logan pants, pawing at Wade’s pants after using his teeth to bite his gloves off.

He nods helplessly, removing his own gloves and unbuckling his utility belt, immediately going for his fly right after. His cock springs free from where it was trapped, aching and flushed red, and Wade can’t help but smile at the heated look he catches on Logan’s face.

“Looks like not wearing a cup was a good thing after all, huh, Wolvie,” he says smugly.

Logan rolls his eyes, working on his own suit and shoving the jock down to free his own dick. Wade’s mouth literally starts salivating at the sight of Logan’s fully hard cock, long and thicker than he expected. At the base is a jungle of wiry hair that Wade can’t wait to bury his nose into once he gets Logan into his throat.

Logan frowns at him. “Quit starin’, bub.”

“Can’t help it when you’ve got a baby arm down there,” he replies easily. “How the fuck did you even fit that in your pants? The poor thing must’ve been suffocating!”

Logan unsheathes his claws on one hand, grazing the tips on Wade’s cheek. He’s pretty sure Logan breaks the skin there if the warmth dripping down his face is anything to go by.

“Shut the fuck up before I chop your dick off, Mouth,” Logan warns. Wade only laughs.

At Logan’s confused expression, Wade leans in to kiss him again, short and quick, before bucking his hips up. They both hiss when their cocks brush together, and Wade bites down on Logan’s bottom lip. With one hand he grabs Logan’s shoulder, the other slipping down to take both their cocks into a loose fist. He begins stroking slowly, heat pooling in his stomach when he feels Logan’s hips twitching into his grip. Wade moans again, mouth pulling away to kiss his way down Logan’s jaw and onto his neck.

“Fucking hell,” he gasps, “can barely get my hand around you, you’re fucking huge.” Logan groans into his ear, biting at Wade’s lobe.

At this point, Logan’s hands have snuck underneath Wade’s top, palming at whatever he can reach. Wade’s breath stutters when Logan rubs his nipples, which he clearly notices because the motherfucker starts to pinch both of them at the same time, rolling them in his fingers.

“Fuck!” Wade shouts at a particularly hard pinch, hand abruptly pausing mid-stroke.

“Yeah?” Logan pants, doing magical things to Wade’s nipples, and Wade can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Keep that up and this is going to end a lot sooner than we both want, honey badger,” he warns, nipping at the corner of Logan’s jaw.

“S’not my fault ya got sensitive nips,” Logan grumps but he releases Wade’s nipples anyway. His hands continue their earlier exploration of Wade’s skin, his breath catching in his throat whenever Logan’s nails scratch him.

He catches Logan in another bruising kiss, tongue licking the palate of Logan’s mouth. Wade begins stroking again, using his thumb to gather the precum leaking from both their cocks. It’s not enough, the friction still on the side of too dry, but Wade does not give a fuck and it seems that Logan doesn’t either. When he begins to rock his hips, Logan does the same, their rhythm already frantic and frenzied, and Wade closes his fist into a tighter circle.

Logan bucks his hips with a little too much gusto on an upstroke, nearly knocking them both off balance until he catches himself by stabbing the headrest next to Wade with his claws.

“Getting too excited there, big boy?” Wade’s lips brush Logan’s when he speaks. “Feel that good?”

“Fuck no.”

There’s a tiny part of Wade that hurts at the words but he ignores it in favour of catching Logan’s lips in another dirty kiss. He bullies Logan into lying down, and Wade slides down to finally face Logan’s cock, kissing the tip and licking at the precum that dribbles out. He grasps the base of Logan’s cock with one hand, taking Logan deep enough for his lips to meet his fist. He plants his other hand firmly on Logan’s hip.

Logan makes an unhappy sound. “What? I can’t fuck your mouth?”

Wade shrugs one shoulder, humming on the downstroke, and smiling (as much as he can with Logan’s dick in his mouth, at least) when Logan drops his head back with a drawn out groan, hands coming to rest on Wade’s shoulders. He doesn’t really pay attention to his technique, too excited to have The Wolverine’s dick in his mouth to think about pace and finesse, but Logan doesn’t seem to mind at all with the way his hips keep twitching up. There’s a reason why Wade has a hand pushing on the flat of Logan’s pelvis.

He gradually manages to open his throat, pushing himself further and further down Logan’s cock, satisfied once his nose begins brushing wiry curls. He may or may not start humming the closer he gets to the base just to hear the noises escaping Logan every time he does.

Pulling off with a filthy slurping sound, a thick line of spit and precum connecting his lips to the tip of Logan’s cock. Wade licks his lips hungrily, keeping one hand pumping Logan while the other moves down to grip his own aching dick. He sighs in relief once he starts stroking himself.

“Fuck my face now,” is all he says before swallowing Logan back down to the root.

“Shit.”

For as violent as he was not five minutes ago during their fight, Logan is surprisingly gentle thrusting into Wade’s mouth now that he has permission. It’d be sweet if Wade isn’t in the middle of chasing his own pleasure right this moment, and he needs to feel Logan hitting the back of his throat for tonsil target practice before he loses his mind.

He pulls off with a whine, frowning up Logan.

“What happened to ‘none of that half-ass shit’?”

Logan glares down at him, a low rumble coming from his chest.

“You fuckin’ asked for it, asshole,” he sneers, and before Wade can complain again, Logan grips the back of his head and shoves him back down to the base of his cock.

He begins to fuck Wade’s face in earnest, delicious noises spilling from his lips that Wade can’t help but return with his own whimpers. He moves the hand that was stroking Logan’s dick to fondle the man’s balls instead, his other hand still furiously jacking his own cock. His jaw aches in the best way as Logan relentlessly guns for his orgasm.

“M’close, bub,” Logan pants heavily. “Pull off, wanna come on your face.”

Wade whines in the negative—he wants everything pouring down his throat.

“I said fuckin’ pull off!”

He stubbornly refuses, too fucking close to coming to care about what Logan wants at the moment.

Several things happen in slow motion from there.

(Take a moment to imagine a record scratch followed by the opening plucks of the violin from Enya’s Only Time à la the second movie, dear reader.)

Wade comes while his mouth is still on Logan, his eyes clamping shut from how hard it hits him. He might also accidentally bite down a little, tiny bit because of his orgasm. (Don’t blame him for getting bitey when he comes—it’s not like he can help it!)

At the same time, Logan grabs the back collar of Wade’s suit while his other hand pushes Wade’s forehead, forcefully pulling Wade off his dick. Wade vaguely registers Logan yelping in pain, likely because he is in pain now that Wade is maybe, slightly using his teeth. Wade—rightfully upset, in his opinion—makes a pathetic, displeased noise when Logan’s cock slips out of his mouth.

For some fucked up reason that Wade would love to investigate one day, this is when Logan orgasms.

Fun fact: when Wolverine blows his load, his claws come out. Another fun fact: he can shoot far enough to reach his chin, and maybe even a little further than that.

Things rev up to regular speed from there, chaos dialling right back up to 11.

“Ow! Not the fucking eyes, shit breath!”

[alpaca-clouds]

Astarion's Plotline and the Thing About Consent

Let me talk about one thing I find weirdly underdiscussed in the BG3 fandom. Technically this does not only concern Astarion, but also a lot of the other romanceable options. but I see it most discussed with Astarion especially in regard of one thing.

I am not the only person who feels icky about the graveyard sex. Not becasue of the graveyard, but because of the context in which it happens. Aka: Astarion has had the hell of one day. He has confronted his trauma in so many ways, he has almost died, he managed to overcome Cazador, and he actually managed to remain himself rather than becoming Cazador. I absolutely do understand that our dear fanged friend kinda wants to celebrate his freedom by finally having sex just because he wants to have it - but I also understand that for a good chunk... Him wanting to fuck in that scene is mostly him somehow trying to cope and not having learned good coping strategies, right?

However, whenever someone in fandom brings this up, quite often someone will reply: "People who are traumatized are still able to consent, you know?"

To which I - someone with tons of trauma - will just say: "Yeah, they can, but consent is something that happens from both sides."

Now, we will leave out the meta discussion that obviously Astarion, on the basis of being a fictional character in a game, obviously has no agency in either direction, while the player does. But ignoring that and just reading the in-game situation...

Tav, Durge, or whoever of the origin characters might be on that graveyard with Astarion in that scene still also have a right to not consent to it. And yes, say: "Hey, you had a hell of a day, and I am honestly not sure whether this is good for you, and if it turned out not to be I would feel really shitty about that" is actually a valid reason to not consent to have sex with someone.

Even if Astarion does want sex in that scene. Even if it turned out to be actually the thing he needed. The other person in the scene very much still has the right to say: "I am not feeling good about this, I don't want this, at least not now."

I am not saying that your own Tav/Durge needs to not be okay with it. They can be perfectly fine with it and have their kinky graveyard sex. What I am saying is, that not everyone is feeling like that - and that their feelings are valid, too.

And it is weird how some Astarion fans react to this, too. First there is the "but he can consent", to which I will just say: "Yeah, and his partner can also say that they don't consent". And then the people will go: "But he looks so sad if you say you don't wanna have sex with him." Which... I... Folks, for once: He is fiction. But also... Even if he wasn't fictional, he would have to live with it. It is not the job of his partner to fuck him whenever he wants sex. Again: Consent matters. And consent involves at least two people.

Like, folks. I am begging you. Just consider this fact. Consent has to come from everyone.

And I can tell you that at least my Tav in that situation did not feel very comfortable with the whole situation. I mean, this is how I wrote out the scene on the graveyard in my fic version of the evening.

“I think, I’ve been dead for along enough,” Astarion finally muttered. “It’s time to try living again.” He took a deep breath, trying to sort his thoughts, his feelings. Then he took the bard’s hands, smiling at him. “With everything life has to offer.” He did not even think about it much, as he gave his voice a sultry tone, and most certainly he had not expected Tav’s reaction. But the bard twitched just a bit. “Astarion…” He seemed awkward, uncertain. “I…” Astarion was not certain if the bard understood. “I want you. I think I might…” “Stop, please,” Tav whispered. There was a tremble going through his body, and an expression in his eyes, that felt like a dagger in Astarion’s heart. He didn’t understand. What was going on. “Don’t you…” It was hard to speak those words. “Don’t you want me?” He had not intended for his voice to sound as hurt as it did in the end. A sigh. Tav pulled his hands out of Astarion’s, before cupping Astarion’s face with them. “I want you. I do. And you know it. Just not… Not now.” “What is wrong with now?” There was hurt still. And anger. Just a bit of anger over the rejection. “What is wrong with now? I am finally free. I can finally…” “Astarion…” Tav was hesitating once more, before moving in closer, pressing his forehead against Astarion’s. “You have been through a lot today. A lot.” “Yes, I know. I was there, remember?” The sarcasm was back in Astarion’s voice. He tried to pull away, but though gently, the bard held onto him. “Please, look at me,” Tav said. “Let me…” He stopped, before letting go of Astarion. “Can I show you?” Now it was Astarion’s turn to pause. He understood, of course. He understood well. “Alright.” He opened himself up to Tav’s feelings – and they were strong. Warm, consuming almost. A want. A need. Fantasies. All there. And it made Astarion understand even less. “Then why?” “Because if I sleep with you again, I want to be sure that we both are going to feel good about it the next day,” Tav said gently. “And today, I cannot be sure of that.” Those words made nothing any clearer. “I don’t understand.” “Look. Today was so much for you. And I do not even need you to show me your feelings. I can tell like this. The sadness. The pain. You feel guilty, too. About those spawn that are more or less your responsibility. About killing Cazador, too.” “Why would I feel guilty about that?” “Because no matter how much you hated and feared him, you were also dependent on him for two hundred years,” Tav said. He took Astarion’s hands again, pressing them. “And there are probably a lot of other feelings, too.” His thumbs were caressing the backs of Astarion’s hands. He gave a tiny sigh. “Look at me.” Astarion had not even quite noticed that he no longer looked the man in the eyes. But he did now. The same, familiar green eyes. “I do not even trust myself right now,” Tav said. “I know I care about you, deeply. I want you. You have no idea how much I want you. But with all the chaos right now… I do not trust myself enough to say whether this is love or just…” Once more his thumbs so gently went over Astarion’s skin. “Right now, I am mostly worried about you. Because today was a lot. And I know those days. And I know what follows.”

And... It is just something that has to be considered. I mean, I know there are people who romance Karlach but still do not sleep with her, because their character is not ready for that. And that is just the thing. Consent has to come from both sides.

In that it does also not matter whether the player is uncomfortable or whether they have just an idea how their character would feel. For the scene playing out... The romancing partner can say "I don't consent." too.

[literally-noone83]

Breathe Easy

Draken x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Draken comes by your place at night only to find out you've been stuck in a household full of screaming and yelling.

A/n: Another short oneeee. Writing juice on low. But I hope you like this comfort fic. Also of you have any requests or ideas for fics please send them in, I'd happy to look at it. Might spark a new writing piece or if I like it enough, I'll write what you suggest :)) Ok enjoy! ALSO, can't reply to comments yet. But to the love given for my Loki fic THANK YOUUUU.

He saunters down dampened roads and over the faint, flickering spots of light from streetlights that buzzed softly. Slanted and with the lingering smell of rust and rain, it marked the neglect of these metropolitan roads. He breezes through the long alleyways and the small spaces between brick walls where every ounce of light is evaporated under the high moon. Only the rare silouhette passes by in his distance or the echoe of reving cars.

His hands rest comfortably in his pockets as he wandered through the blocks of apartments, and dingey homes sat on the outskirts of the city. He knew them like the back of his hand. Needn't stop once or look over his shoulder. He can hear the crisp air whistle in his ear and every mile away car. Even if he was to be attacked it wasn't an issue to Toman's vice-leader.

His nerves rest easy. All that's on his mind is getting to where he needed to be.

Nearing the apartment complexes that sit almost side by side, he made his way over to one of the windows just above the ground. Lined on the floor, there were the partial basement housings. His eyes glided over the dirtied cement, the way the barred widows glisten with droplets that run down its faces. Many of them had its curtains drawn. It was midnight after all. Everyone should be asleep but amidst the lot, his eyes flickered with familiarity at the one that was never fully drawn at this hour. A warm glow from a lamp he knew kissed the edges of the lower window as he drew near.

Naturally the end of his lip curve up softly at the sight. He stops at the foot of it before crouching down, beside your window into your room. He tilts his head to see you at your desk beside that small lamp as expected. However... his eyes peered over your slouched figure upon not textbooks upon textbooks but rather a comic. Strange, he thought.

Casually, he leans forward and knocks on your window. He watched your head snap towards him in somewhat of a shock. He noticed the way your eyes don't light up or the way you don't instantly smile. Instead, you're quick to move over to him and pull the window open before sitting back down.

"I thought you had patrol." You go back to the comic you left open. His smile has long disappeared.

"Finished... thought you'd be studying." He hums lowly. On cue a loud thud ricochet off the wall followed by barking voice of anger that overlapped one another.

Furrowed brows etch his complexion with worry as his eyes instantly dart over to your unflinching self. You continued to stare at your comic. With the way your eyes were distilled upon the animated drawings, he wondered how long you've been re-reading that same page.

"Couldn't think..." You finally murmur.

He let's out a silent sigh. "Should I-"

"They're fine... just angry as usual. And stupid."

His eyes danced over your expression carefully, but it doesn't move.

"Have they been at it all day?"

There's a momentary hesitation in your eyes and he watches shame wash over you like it's your fault. You hum softly not once looking at him.

Draken has seen that face before. Distant and quietly fuming, so unlike the unceasing smiles, bubbling and maniacle laughter, and that endless sarcasm that makes your eyes glimmer. At times, Draken truly wondered how two emotionally unstable and temperamental people could produce someone like you and let their shitty relationship weigh on their child this much.

Over the years knowing you, Draken never saw anything affect your mood as your parents' big blowout fights did. Draken never had parents, and despite growing up under the roof of a brothel that had its own varying imperfections, he could only imagine how hefty it was to be an only child isolated between walls that shook with the yells and screaming of parents love that's meant to warm them.

An unadulterated scream echoes, like a child throwing a tantrum before more barking follows; empty threats of money loss, divorce, cheating and who knows what more. The dull look in your eyes that stares blankly, he could see the hurt you never like showing. But he can see it.

His jaw ticks. He hated you being there alone. He quickly looks around, down both the empty wet streets.

"Hey." He said suddenly.

"You should go." You still don't look at him.

"Hey."

"They'll stop soon."

"I said hey."

"What?" You snap your head towards him, a hint of irritation.

Your gaze met his through the bars where he crouches. He taps on the metal.

"Let's go." It's not a question. It's a soft demand.

The crease between your brows smooths at the mere of idea of escaping. Your lips part, eyes unsure.

"I- draken I can't."

"You can. Come with me." He says again. "C'mon you've done it before."

You sigh at his persistence. "It's midnight."

"And this is a fucking shit hole." He deadpan. "Let's get out of here."

He coxed a brow at you in challenge as you looked at him sternly. Immediately his gaze softens into something assuring and pleading. "Cmon, Y/n... let them have it out. You don't have to listen to their shit."

You take a deep breath before shutting your comic and reaching into your draw for a key. You climb up and unlock the window gate. Draken stands back, swinging the gate open and reaching down to help you up through the window.

"God, they're gonna kill me." You grunt as you find your footing. Draken takes the key and shuts up your window and locks the gate.

"No they won't." He says it so self-assured. Not because he's sure you won't get caught sneaking out but because he'd never let anyone harm you, not even your damned parents.

"You're right, they'd come after you." You poke at him, a smile threatening your lips.

His ears perk up at the tingue of your familiar words. He straightens, looking down at you with a smirk.

"Good. Can't wait to actually meet them." His voice is unsuspecting, but his comment is playful. His dry sarcasm makes you roll your eyes and shake your head to hide the humoured grin that breaks out on your lips. You couldn't help yourself. If anything, everything in you chanted you shouldn't be smiling. Shouldn't even remotely feel like smiling after such a shitty day contained in a cage of torment. But with Draken, you let slip a rather quiet and sarcastic comment, and all of a sudden the end of your lips twitch, and you felt like laughing.

A satisfied smile blooms on his lips as he catches your small smile. There it was. That Sass. That impeccable humour that cracks at the smallest of things. That smile.

There's my girl, he thought.

He takes your hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Let's have fun, yea?"

You sober up and a genuine smile takes its place on your lips. Even in darkness, he could see the stars dance in your eyes. You held a softening gaze, and your shoulds deflated as if all stresses were slowly leaving you willingly and happily. With an expression that said through unspoken words he didn't need you to ever say aloud, 'I'm glad you're here.' That 'I feel safe with you.'

"To the park?" You asked, a twinge of childish hope in your voice.

That knowing look in his eyes said yes, and that was all you needed before you were tugging him forward then letting go in a spontaneous race to get there first.

At home you felt like you couldn't breathe. Those walls felt so close together. Outside knowing Draken was a few spaces behind or beside you, you could breathe. Puffing out white smokes of cold air from your lungs after running down the street, giggling and hushing one another in empty pathways and swinging on swings under the streetlight hazy glow.

With you, the dark alleyways and wet tar roads weren't so mundane. Cold rainy nights like that one, sauntering down cramped homes and dingey parks weren't so uninviting. Long nights didn't feel so long, and lonely walks didn't feel so lonely. With you, the moon wasn't the most beautiful sight in the night anymore...

Without having to say it or proclaim it, you both wordlessly save each other from your own endeavours. With one another, you could breathe easy. With one another, you were a little less alone. With one another, you felt safe and, most importantly, alive.

[celestailio]

the written fate ( raiden ei x fem!reader )

outline: years have passed, and kunikuzushi’s heinous crimes have spread fear throughout inazuma. as fate would have it, you cross paths with him once more, the weight of your shared history heavy between the both of you.

contains: mentions of raiden ei x fem!reader, angst, no comfort, ei and reader don't meet, mother and son quarrel time. somewhat follows canon.

wc: 1.1k

a/n: the last part of the longing can be read on its own, tho. it's kinda short, but i think it's enough. i wrote this on halloween and forgot about editing it xo anyway, hope you all enjoy this. i feel so happy seeing the interactions on the previous two fics. again from the bottom of my anxious heart, thank you for taking the time to read my shitty writings <333

you had never seen him like this.

you distinctly remember him as a kind, gentle boy—the one who would flash sweet smiles at you the moment your eyes met and come tumbling and collapsing into your arms. the one would never ever think of causing harm to anyone.

someone who you had been ordered to kill.

that same boy stood in front of you. the twilight illuminates his figure, allowing your brain to register his familiar blue hair protruding from underneath the massive black jingasa. you make out a small crowd not so far behind him. by the looks of it, he was accompanied by the troops of the fatui.

everything has changed about him. he looked so, so unlike him. completely unrecognizable.

“i go by scaramouche now.”

he said with an abrasive tone. something strange glinting in his blue orbs. he began trudging towards you. his black zori leaving imprints on kannazuka’s tarnished sandy beaches. the solar pearls attached to his hat rang with his every step, its chimes filling the dead air between the two of you. he crossed the distance slowly with steady strides, his assertive composure beginning to disturb you.

you had never seen him like this.

you have to regain your composure—say, do something before the anxiety threatens to take over you.

''tell me why? i am just hearing about you joining the fatui?''

your voice croaks a little, but it doesn't matter. as long as it sounds unwavering, that was enough. you're still like his mother, and well, he is still like your son, right?

it's not a problem if he didn't come to you after he woke up in the pavilion years ago. you think maybe he had forgotten about your promise to him. but it's alright. you are here now, and you will take care of this. everything will be okay, just like in the past.

“not to mention, you have been going around, eating everyone's life. does this look like a game to you?”

scaramouche stays motionless. he keeps on digging holes on your crinkled visage. if his gaze could burn you, you would have been on the ground, your body smoldering in a pile of ashes in a mere seconds.

something has changed.

“you never thought of coming to me after you woke up? why?”

“why would've i?”

“huh?''

“to someone who had been deceitful to me. to someone who didn't feel any remorse for me.”

what was he talking about?

''do you know how i felt when i woke up by myself in that ridiculous place? how would i have made the trip to the main island? i had no money, no one, nothing. all because of you and her!''

''how dare you leave me?” his voice now merely a whisper.

''please listen to me. i had no choice. i could not change her mind.''

''i could not leave with you. i have a duty, my destiny, to serve this country and its people, an oath i made many centuries ago, and i have to remain loyal to it.''

''please, i could not.''

you were babbling at this point. so desperate, so eager. oh, god. it felt like you were going to throw up any minute. you know this was going to happen, and there was nothing you could have done to prevent this. curses. you attempt to take a step, longing to be close to him, hoping to comfort him, but he pushes away. from you. his little hand comes up to stop you, head turned away as he couldn't bear to look at you.

''i've had enough. be gone. i don't want to see you any much longer. you disgust me.''

''but-'' you make an effort to reach for his sleeves, but he is quick to grab your arm. the sensation of contact, arousing goosebumps all over your body.

''enough!''

with a sudden jolt, electro energy dispels you away from him as you land near a pile of debris with a loud thud. sand feels rough, grazing against your skin, as you give it your all to lift yourself up. you felt your breath hitching, eyes wide, overflowing with unshed wetness. you gradually turn towards him. a similar look graced his face.

you felt your heart tighten at the sounds of little whimpers leaving him. his hand lingering in the air as if contemplating what he has done. but this had answered enough. you had no choice now but to brush the dirt from your clothes. as you unsheathe your katana and point it towards him. the blade sharp and glows under the moonlight. your stance confident, as words of venom slip out into the crisp winter air.

''you are now an enemy of the nation i serve.''

''this is the one and only time you will step foot in this country, else i will not think twice before slicing your head off.''

scaramouche says nothing to that and wanders off with his fatui subordinates, disappearing behind the woods of tall otogi.

when you return to tenshukaku, you are critiqued on your failure to get rid of the sixth harbinger. the shogunate questions your loyalty to the nation, to the shogun. but you can do nothing like always. all you manage is to come up with a lousy excuse. something about you being outnumbered by the fatui and having to flee before you lost your life. but they don't give a damn, do they?

''he was right there, miko.''

''was he now?''

''he wouldn't listen to what i had to say. i could not get through to him at all.''

''he surely got his mama's temper, huh.''

you remain silent. only the rusting of the sakura leaves swaying in the breeze could be heard. miko's stare begins to soften. shaking her head. her sake swirls in her cup as she takes a seat beside you. head resting on your shoulder.

''that stubborn woman should have just killed him.''

never did you think you would be in agreement with this. a few years ago, you would have slapped a cheeky hand on her shoulders, but the 'you' now would beg to differ. things weren't as they once were. you had never felt so lost and lonely. so empty inside. you lost your little boy, your ruler, your god and the only one you loved. it is unfortunate that you still do and will continue to do so.

and that was what you were cursed for your entire existence. only a star from another universe was capable of rewriting the course of destruction this destitute nation has embarked on.

[floralcyanide]

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 • 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫

Part One

Roman Bridger x AFAB!Reader

The day Roman first laid eyes on you, he knew he had to have you. There was something about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and usually, he was good at reading people off the bat. But you were a different story. Naturally, you only opened up when necessary, not letting people in if you didn’t have a reason to. So you were guarded, and Roman didn’t like that. He wanted to worm his way into your life, no matter what it took. 

If that took delving into his twisted past again in order to get to you, so be it. AFAB - (assigned female at birth) someone who is born female but can identify with she/her or other pronouns. reader pronouns are gender neutral, so people who use any pronouns can read, but female anatomy will be used and described in this fanfiction eventually.

request: Please could you write a Roman x reader where she is only supposed to be an extra in his movie, but he becomes obsessed with her and starts doing whatever it takes to make her part of the main cast so he can get much closer to her. by anon.

Can you do Roman with s/o that's an actor/actress? If you don't I'll cry myself to sleep :) by @hell0r0ck

warnings: none for this part!

word count: 1300

author's note: sorry it's kinda short, but I felt it was a great place to naturally stop. I do want this to be a few parts long, so we shall see how long it gets lol! thank you to those who sent in requests (: I'm happy to be writing for the Scream fandom again <3 if you enjoy this and want me to continue, please reblog/ like/ comment!

series masterlist | masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

You’re about to do a simple audition process in order to be an extra in the new Stab movie. There’s not much to it- just getting into hair, makeup, and costume and then blending into the background when ordered to do so. You’re pretty good at becoming invisible already, but you’re still nervous. The movie's director is attractive, in your humble opinion, and he’s the one who conducts the auditions. So you’re most anxious about doing something embarrassing in front of him. In your self-absorbed imagination, you hope, for whatever reason, the director notices you out of everyone here. But the chances of that happening are astronomically low.

You’re in an area full of other random people auditioning to be extras, possibly around fifty people altogether, solidifying why you won’t be so much as blinked at. You managed to snag a seat earlier when you arrived before people began pouring into the studio. You’re squirming in the chair anxiously, switching which leg to cross over the other often, and playing with your hair without noticing. 

“Are you okay?” someone from next to you whispers.

You glance over to your right and see a small girl around your age studying you with concern. 

You nod, “I’m fine. Just kinda nervous.”

“I can tell,” the girl smiles gently, offering a hand, “I’m Sage.” 

“Nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N).”

“Is this your first time auditioning?” Sage asks, her eyes curious of your answer.

“Nope,” you shake your head, “I’ve been in plenty of shows and movies.”

“Then why are you so worried? You’ve got this!” the chipper blonde grins.

You hesitantly chuckle and lean in closer to her to whisper, “I think the director is cute.”

“Roman? He’s alright. Not my type, but he’s really nice! I’ve worked with him before.”

“Really?” you raise your eyebrows, intrigued to learn more about Roman now that you know his name.

“Yeah, he directed some shitty horror movie about a year ago, and I was one of the random bystanders that got killed. He always made sure all the extras were the best they could be. I doubt half of these people here will make it because he’s really picky,” Sage rambles.

“Good to know,” you say, now even more nervous than before.

The room suddenly hushes, and everyone looks in one direction at whoever caused the silence.

“Welcome to Stab 3, everyone! I’m Roman, and I’m the director. Let’s get started.”

Everyone is ordered to a set where we all stand aimlessly and talk to each other or walk around. According to Roman, anyone breaking their character or not looking convincing enough will get booted. Upon his signal to begin, we all take random places around the set and pretend to be nobody. Piece of cake. There are placeholders for the actual main actors reciting lines for the scene we’re practicing to make it more natural. You avoid your eyes from anyone specific other than Sage, pretending to be deep in conversation with her. Roman walks around the set like a ghost, dismissing people here and there. He has a hand on his chin, rubbing it inquisitively as he studies everyone he passes. A group of girls giggles at Roman when he walks by them, to which he then dismisses them off the set. You avert your eyes back to Sage quickly before he notices. In your vision field, you can see him walking in your direction.

Sage notices your staring and looks at you knowingly before learning her throat, “So have you heard?” 

“Heard what?” you say, trying to remain in character the best you can as Roman inches ever closer.

“There’s a masked killer on the loose,” Sage looks around nervously, quieting her voice.

“Seriously?” you furrow your eyebrows, half wondering if she was actually serious or if she was just playing her part, “Do they know who it is?”

Sage shrugs as Roman stands by the two of you, watching with a slight gleam in his eye, “No one does. We just have to make sure to stay safe. So if you go anywhere, don’t go alone.”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere alone,” you chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully, “No pun intended.”

Roman stifles a laugh, “Good job, you two. I’ll see you on the real set soon,” he winks.

You look at Sage with wide eyes as he walks away, and she pats your shoulder with a smile, “I told you that you had this in the bag! Besides, I know Roman enough to know that he thinks you’re cute.”

You try not to snort, “And how do you know that?”

“He’s still staring at you.”

Trying your best to look casual, you scratch your neck and turn around slowly, darting your eyes around to avoid direct contact with Roman. Your eyes land beside his face, where you can see him sneaking a peek at you before turning away.

“Told you,” Sage snickers, “Now come on, let’s blow this popsicle stand now that we have the parts.”

The two of you head over to the area where other extras which have been accepted are sitting. There are about 20 of you, while a measly 10 remain on the set. After 15 minutes, 5 more dwindle over to where you and Sage sit and converse.

“Alright, my extras,” Roman smiles as he approaches the group of you, “I’ll see you bright and early on the actual set tomorrow at seven sharp. Don’t be late.”

Everyone cheers and talks amongst themselves as you and Sage stand up from your seats, brushing yourselves off before making your way to the exit.

“You two,” Roman stops you both right at the stage door, “I’ll be keeping an eye on you. You guys seem too good to be extras.”

“Roman, you know good and well your team wouldn’t allow some random extras to be in the main cast. So keep dreaming, pretty boy,” Sage rolls her eyes with a laugh, “We’ve been down this road before. I’m not into major acting.”

“What about them?” Roman points to you, and you nervously cave in on yourself momentarily under his direct gaze.

“Uh,” you stutter, looking between Roman and Sage, “I don’t know. I guess I’ll see how it goes tomorrow first,” you shrug.

“Alright,” Roman grins, “See you tomorrow.”

You nod, suppressing a smile. Once Roman is out of earshot, Sage squeals quietly.

“You two so like each other,” she giggles, pushing the door open.

“Remind me to block your number when I get home,” you say jokingly.

The following morning, you try your best to refrain from rubbing your tired eyes after having makeup applied to them. You’re standing at the coffee cart on set, clutching a cup of hot liquid as your eyes gloss over. Someone walks into your peripheral, waving their hand in front of your face.

“Are you there, sweetheart?”

Snapping out of it, you squeeze your eyes shut quickly before blinking rapidly to clear your vision. Roman is standing in front of you in a flattering button-up, a small smile on his lips.

“Sorry, just a little sleepy this morning,” you laugh nervously, pulling the cup of coffee closer to your chest before taking a cautious sip.

“That’s alright. It’s a slow day today, not much to film with many extras, so if you want, you can chill out on the sidelines,” Roman suggests, and you shake your head.

“Nope, I’m here to work. I’ll wake up here soon,” you take a large gulp of the hot, caffeinated beverage.

“A good attitude to have!” Roman grins, patting your shoulder, “See you on set later, then!”

Little did you know, you’d see Roman more than just on set. And he’d be seeing you everywhere you went. Everywhere all the time.

[sugurusdiscordmoderator]

barista suguru and reader has the biggest crush on him that they try to ask him out but got too nervous to do so!! however.. reader suddenly see him at a party they were invited in, and what does alcohol do to a person sometimes? confidence, and they hook up (eventually got together??) I'm not sure if this request makes sense, and English isn't my first language..

omg hi anon thank you for the ask - not sure if you're an AOT fan but @humanitys-strongest-bamf has an amazing fic similar to this w Levi and its god tier

anywaysss here we go <3

(The ages in this are all fucked up lol, Megumi, Nobara, and Yuji are 22 and Gojo, Geto, and Shoko are like 25)

content warning: Haibara and Nanami are lovers lmao, weed, alcohol, cigarettes, hookup culture

(this is my original drawing please do not repost)

-

Being well known on your college campus is a blessing and a curse. You loved being involved in a lot of clubs and participating in social events. Going to the library or trying to study was nearly impossible with how many people knew you. However being a senior, you needed to focus and get things done. You lived a little ways off campus to save money and started frequenting a little coffee shop a few blocks from your apartment.

The first time you stopped, you had been walking home from class when a storm with bad winds blew in, and you decided to just study in this cafe until the storm passes. There are little tables all throughout, you grab one near the back and pull out some of your course materials and get started writing notes and going over chapters for your quiz in a few days. That is when a yawn washes over you and the exhaustion from late nights sets in. You figure you might as well get a drink while you're at this coffee shop.

Walking up to the counter you squint up at the menu board trying to decide what you're in the mood for.

"What can I get for you?" a man's voice asks.

Lost in your indecisiveness you don't even look down to make eye contact reading between Americano, Latte, Cold Brew, etc.

"Mmmm, not sure yet, I may need a few minutes," biting your bottom lip thinking about how much caffeine you want to intake today.

"We also have a list of specials down in front of you," he says politely and you see him walk away out of your peripherals.

The thing is, you're not a huge coffee person. Half the time it's too sweet, half the time it's too bitter. The caffeine gives you jitters and makes you anxious. Also sometimes coffee just messes your stomach up so you just have given up on expensive coffee places and opt for making your own shitty coffee at home.

You glance down at the specials list, reading them to yourself,

"Almond Joy Latte

Sparkling Green Tea Refresher

Pink Velvet Cold Brew

Barista's Choice"

You finally look up at the employee, a tall man that is turned around cleaning the espresso machine. His hair is pulled back into a cute bun and his frame is just large. You look at his hands, so large and strong with some veins protruding. He has a black button up on with the sleeves rolled up, exposing tattoos on his forearms. Matching it with black pants and a black apron, he looks kind of dark and mysterious.

He turns around and catches your eye, forgetting all the words that were about to form in your head.

"Still need a minute?" He squints his eyes a little and smiles softly as your eyes rake over his whole face. He has a piece of black bangs sticking out from the bun, pierced ears, a lip ring, amber eyes, and an amazingly chiseled jaw. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out and you can feel the heat spread across your cheeks.

"Uh, I, sorry," you shake your head and try to laugh at your own stupor, "Can I do the barista's choice?"

He nods, "Any preferences?"

"Uhm, no, whatever you like," you completely lie through your teeth trying to seem chill. He taps in the order on the iPad at the register and flips it over for you to pay and sign. At least it isn't too expensive if you don't like it, but you eagerly press the "25%" tip button hoping Mr. tall, dark, and handsome appreciates it.

"I'll bring it over to you when it's ready," he smiles and nods his head towards where you were seated.

"Thanks," you smile awkwardly walking back to your course materials, although it's not like you'll be focusing on anything other than the barista soon. You not-so-casually watch him work, obsessed with a man you've hardly spoken to once.

A few minutes later he brings over a cute tea cup and saucer, and you immediately smile when he sets it down, seeing the little design on top.

"It's a dirty chai...like a chai tea latte with a shot of espresso in it and a little special touch. Let me know if you like it."

The man smirks and walks away before you can even properly thank him. You burn your tongue eagerly taking a sip too soon, trying to find another excuse to talk to him. You try to take your mind off of it by scrolling through instagram for a bit while drinking your latte but around this time of year its all couples and engagements and babies which only adds to how down bad you feel. You get a text from your friend Nobara letting you know that a friend of her friend, Megumi, is having a party Friday and the friend told Megumi who told Nobara that they could bring whoever. After deciphering the word vomit of a text she sent you you send back a "thumbs up emoji" letting her know you'll be there because nobody else has invited you anywhere yet.

You finish your drink and decide to pack up your stuff and head home, a few blocks in the rain won't hurt you. It might cool you off from thinking about the dreamy barista you just met. You set the cute mug on the counter, and he turns around when he hears the noise. He raised an eyebrow, as if asking 'how was it?'

"It was great," you smile, "uhm, have a good one," you slightly shrug and turn around to go before he can add anything, just like he did to you earlier.

-

The next few days are uneventful, you walk by the coffee shop every day on your way to campus, wondering if he is working or if you should go in, but not wanting to struggle to pick a drink or pay for coffee again.

On Friday Nobara walks back to your apartment with you, she commutes in to town so whenever there is a party or something going on she crashes on your couch. She eyes the little cafe, "Want coffee? I think tonight might be pretty fun from the sounds of it!" She practically squeals and you find it adorable how excited she is. "Sure" you grumble, holding the door open for her.

She waltzes right up to the counter, decisive as always, and knows exactly what she wants. You trail behind her, not seeing any employees at the counter, squinting up at the menu board yet again. That's when you hear giggling come from the back room and see the handsome barista come out with some supplies, followed by a cute girl with a short brown bob who seems to be helping him.

You can't help but think about his beautiful laugh, and how you can hear it again.

"See ya tonight Shoko" he says, putting his apron back on and refocusing his attention to Nobara.

"Bye Geto!" This so called Shoko calls back to him as she walks out the front door. You cant help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the way he was in the backroom with his apron off and laughing with a girl.

Like girl - quit being delusional, you just heard his name for the first time and he probably doesn't even know who you are.

"Y/n, what do you want?" Nobara interrupts your talk with yourself.

"I'll have what she's having," you say overly confident, smiling at Geto. They both side eye you and you just remain oblivious, opting to go on your phone as you let your friend pay for your coffee as payment for her 'hotel' for the night. The two of you move out of the way and stand off to the side waiting for your drinks while Nobara talks about how Megumi's other friend Yuji is going to be there tonight with his big brother Sukuna and how excited she is because they're both sooo attractive. You nod your head along with what she says while scrolling on your phone. It's not that you don't care what she's saying, it's just that she knows so much about everything. All the gossip on campus is at your fingertips because of her, good or bad. You zone out staring at whatever drinks the barista is making, watching his damn good looking hands do his job. He walks over to you with two cups and you can't help but just stare at him. His outfit today consists of jeans and a tight black tshirt with a flannel jacket over top.

"Two iced matcha lattes with coconut milk and a strawberry cold foam on top," He smiles as Nobara eagerly grabs both of the drinks and hands one to you.

She sips it right away, "This is the best I've ever had thank youuu," she dramatically draws out while pulling you out the door heading to your apartment again. You look back to see him watching you leave and give a small wave with the hand that is holding your drink. You can't tell if you're imagining it but you think you see a faint blush over his cheeks.

-

You and Nobara enjoy your typical pregame activities, getting ready together, listening to music, and sharing a blunt.

"The guy at the coffee shop was checking you out," she half slurs, talking while applying her lip gloss.

"What makes you say that?" You think she's messing with you but you also hadn't told her about your little crush.

"When I was ordering he was staring at you the WHOLE time. Like he didn't even make eye contact with me I don't think!" She wines, "God it's not fair he's so gorgeous."

"To be fair Nobara, you think most guys are gorgeous" You giggle and walk towards the freezer to grab some liquor. "Speaking of gorgeous men, who's party are we even going to tonight?"

"I think it's at some guy named Satoru Gojo's house? I guess he's good childhood friends with Megumi from when he didn't really have a dad." There goes your friend, sharing other people's business when she didn't really need to.

"Mmm," you nod and throw back a shot of liquor, "I think I had a class with him when I was like a freshman and he was a senior. A real interesting character."

"Maybe you can introduce me and I'll get lucky," Nobara raises her eyebrows at you.

"You will not be having sex on my couch." You say sternly before you both erupt in a fit of giggles. Gathering a few last minute things before heading out, you also grab a reusable shopping tote and fill it with a little bit of your own alcohol, you never know what they may or may not have at these kinds of parties.

-

Walking there was a little chilly but overall a nice night for the time of year. This guy must've gone to your school and hadn't left yet given the proximity of his house to your apartment and to campus.

You walk in and see Yuji Itadori right away with his friendly smile and big personality. He gives you both hugs and you know at least if Nobara doesn't get lucky with anyone else she can rely on Yuji.

Your energetic friend holds your hand as she searches the rest of the party to find her friend Megumi. He stands in the kitchen with a white haired man that you faintly think is this Gojo guy, both getting ready to shotgun a beer together. You and Nobara wait to see who wins before interrupting, grabbing drinks out of the cooler and setting down your bag with liquor and hard seltzers in it. It appears that Gojo finishes just a second before Megumi and you hear Nobara interrupting, "Gumi what was that?! You lost like a little bitch?"

He groans in response but ultimately smiles, "Why am I friends with you again?"

"Because you've been stuck with me since high school."

Watching the altercation, Gojo comes up to you and asks, "You're with them?" Nodding his head at the two immaturely arguing.

"Sadly." you respond taking a swig of your drink.

"I'm Satoru Gojo, this is my place, thanks for coming." He eyes you over top of his black round sunglasses, making you feel like you may be wearing too revealing of clothes.

"I'm y/n, thanks for the invite by proxy," You giggle as Megumi makes his way over to you.

"Y/n, good to see you," the spikey haired boy gives you an awkward side hug, and a little kiss on the top of your head. Satoru raises his eyebrows at the two of you and you roll your eyes. When Megumi and Nobara get distracted and head into another room you fill him in. "Megumi and I may have hooked up once or twice when we were drunk," You blush, revealing your secret that hardly anyone knew to this stranger.

"Mhmm, seems like more than once or twice," Gojo sips his drink and sighs dramatically, leaving the kitchen to you alone.

Just then the back door of the kitchen that leads to the back yard creaks open. You turn to see who it was out of instinct, and recognize the girl with the brown bob from the cafe earlier today. She carries on past you not even really looking at you with her cigarette still lit in her mouth.

You see Nobara in the living room from your spot on the kitchen and mouth to her that you're going outside to smoke. She nods and thumbs up, but it seems that Yuji also read your lips and is interested in joining you.

You head out to the backyard, very dimly lit despite the pretty lights Gojo tried to hang up to make it look more aesthetic. You pull out a dab pen and a cigarette and hold them up for Yuji to take his pick. His eyes light up at the weed pen and he takes a huge inhale.

"God Yuji, careful," you laugh and proceed to take a smaller hit.

Your laugh seems to attract the attention of another group standing outside, and you immediately quiet yourself.

"Do you have a light?" One of them asks although you can't make out names or voices and even if you could you don't know many people here.

"Yeah," you respond, digging out a baby pink lighter that has a "Daddy's Girl" sticker on it, a joke that one of your friends gave you. Hopefully its dark enough that they can't see it.

A blonde guy approaches you to grab it, "Thanks, we have some seats over here if you guys want." Yuji happily follows but you're a little apprehensive. However they do have a firepit going so it is a little brighter over there.

"I'm Kento, this is my boyfriend Yu," the two introduce themselves, lighting their cigs at the same time with your lighter. You take another small hit of your pen as the brunette one comments, "Nice lighter." It makes you cough on your smoke a bit but eventually turns into laughter, "Thank you," You smile grabbing it back from them.

Yuji seems to be a little high from his rather large puff earlier, and you ask, "I'm going to go check on Nobara, you need anything?" He smiles and shakes his head and starts some conversation about an underground fight club with the two guys as you walk back inside. You enter back into the kitchen, grabbing another drink and heading into the living room where you last saw Nobara. She is having a heart to heart with some girl that graduated last year that you know of named Maki. They both have been drinking and just are smiling and agreeing with everything the other says.

She suddenly turns to you when she realizes you're standing there, "Your lover, he's here." She abruptly turns back around ignoring your inquiry of who she is referring to. You see Gojo and Megumi talking in the kitchen and decide to go talk to them instead of standing there looking awkward. You couldn't see from the angle you were at, but the brunette bob cigarette girl was also standing with them chatting.

Gojo waves you over to the conversation, putting a playful arm around your shoulders. "So sweetheart," Satoru starts, slurring his words a little more than he was the last time you talked to him, "Were trying to place bets on who's going to hook up with who tonight."

"Shoko has money on Suguru and Yuki, Megumi bets on Nobara and Yuji, and me, well I have money on you and Megumi." The four of you errupt in laughter and yelling over top of each other of who is correct.

"What are we arguing about?" Another voice asks that just came into the kitchen. You turn to see who it is with Gojo's arm still loosely hanging onto you.

"Suguruuuu" Satoru coos, "Finally joined the party! Shoko here thinks you're going to hook up with Yuki tonight."

"Like hell," he mutters looking to see who his best friends choice of girl is for the evening, before his eyes land on you. You can't help but drop your jaw at the beautiful barista from the cafe standing in front of you. It looks like he just showered, wet hair which is half up half down, and you can smell the fresh body wash radiating off of him.

"Who'd you bet Satoru?" Suguru questions, still having his eyes focused on you.

"I bet little miss y/n here and her boy toy Megumi." He responds and your cheeks flush at the fact this beautiful man may think you're not interested because of Gojo's fat mouth.

"Who'd you bet on?" Shoko asks directed towards Geto.

"I'll have to get back to you on that," he turns to get a drink from the cooler before taking a step outside, you assume to smoke.

You excuse yourself from under Satoru's arm, leaving him Megumi and Shoko to talk about more random gossip. Heading to the backdoor, you try to build up some courage to introduce yourself to this Geto guy. Much to your dismay, as you are walking out of the door in your own thoughts, another person was coming through the door to go inside but was a lot more solid than you. Bouncing back onto your ass you giggle, "I'm so so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you look up to meet the amber eyes you've been thinking about for the past week. It feels like the wind has gotten knocked out of you seeing how close your faces were with him grabbing your hand to help you up.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to knock you over like that,” he slightly laughs. “I’m just grabbing a lighter,” letting go of your hand holding the door open.

“Oh I have one here!” You pull it out of your pocket kicking yourself for showing it to someone else again. Well maybe it will at least start a conversation. You hand it to him and he lights his cigarette, not making a comment and hands it back to you. You also decide to light a cigarette, trying your best to look cool doing it but because of the wind you’re having a little trouble. Suguru sticks up his hand to block the wind for you. His damn hands. It’s like as big as your face up close and you say “thanks” with the cigarette hanging out of your mouth now lit.

“Y/n? Is that your name?” He breaks the silence first.

“Yes, are you Suguru?” You ask sweetly back

“Suguru Geto, the one, the only, barista extrodinaire,” he laughs and draws a puff.

“I like your laugh.” You blurt out, now realizing your judgement is a little impaired from your weed alcohol and nicotine pairing. “Sorry that just kind of came out.”

“That’s okay,” he stares at you with kind eyes ashing his cigarette against Gojos house.

“Did you like the matcha today?” He asks after you don’t respond.

“Actually no,” you bust out laughing, “I don’t like matcha I was just distracted when she was ordering.”

“Distracted by what?” He asks.

“You,” you realize how close your faces are and how intimate the moment is with your glowing cigarettes and how intoxicating the mix of his smell is.

He nods and smirks at your response, glancing down at your lips. “I think I want to get to know you more y/n.”

You gather all the courage that you haven’t had with this man for the past few days and put it all in your lips and lean in to kiss him. He kisses back, graciously, putting his hand against the back of your head as you place your hand on his hard pec. He depends the kiss, moving his lips passionately before entering his tongue into your mouth. His free hand wraps around your waist.

Just as things are getting intense you hear Nobara squeal in the kitchen, “GOJO LOOK!” You both break the kiss laughing, but still pressed up against him.

“I think I may know who my bet is on for tonight,” he winks and gives you another kiss, making your knees weak and release a tiny whimper into his mouth. You pray he didn’t hear it, but instead he asks, “needy daddy’s girl?”

You feel your cheeks grow so warm and cover your face with your hands. “Just kidding pretty girl, your lighter was cute though.”

—

reblogs and comment for a part 2 ?? 🤭🤭

[thatneoncrisis]

oh captain my captain, I've read maybe ten TLT fics in all my time here so I'm not necessarily familiar with the common fandom takes. If you haven't already, would you mind elaborating on them? I'd like to know more about the history that prompted you to write your latest fic. please and thank you, I'm still reeling from the update today and I think I need to hear like. all of your thoughts ever about writing it

GUH. christ. idk its like a lot of things, its a year and a half of fucking around on ao3 and getting annoyed in a way i am only susceptible to because im fucking Online. if i get too specific it starts calling people out by name which i want to avoid so keeping it super broad:

the way gideon is written wrt being a trans butch of color

connected to that point like, the insane amount of rizz she has. god its so funny. to me

the way fics have like an interesting premise but run at a breakneck pace to get to the kissing and then it just ends. nooo the world was so cool go back nooooooo

how a lot of stories do this thing where they want ianthe to be a shitty ex girlfriend/half hearted love interest but they cant commit to her being genuinely awful or treat her like a person with feelings so it accidentally reads like her worst crime was being uncommunicative and bad at sex and unfunny, because the audience is already primed to hate her so were just like yeah this tracks

the sixth mommying harrow to an unbearable degree, like they treat her the way they treated nona in canon, this also extends to them wingmanning her

the like. paradox of wanting genuine conflict between harrow and gideon but also retaining their close banter. this is a hard thing to do if theyre like MEETING in a fic for the first time. theres rarely a reason for them to hate each other with such intensity and thus it fizzles out like immediately. i didnt even really bother with this i just did an immediate inexplicable closeness that is then undercut when harrow snaps out of it by going back to how she generally is

wrt harrows relationship with her faith this is less something im upset about and more something i rarely seen done in a way that interests me as an individual. shes catholic Ish, it doesnt really matter re her day to day outside of her childhood or maybe her job, she might pray sometimes or allude to long since conquered internalized homophobia

and in a similar vein like the very. Correct way people talk. its all very precise terminology to describe their sexuality or gender or a diagnosis they got and are actively working on. nobody is a faggot or transsexual or a girlboy or a thing they dont have a word for but know exists

again im saying this as often as i can. if youve done any of this cool. genuinely. keep doing it i cant stop you. its more about how often i see it just compound in on itself over and over, its the vast majority of fics that do at least one of these things. its a personal problem about wanting more from something that doesnt want to be more, and i cant make it more, because its not mine and wasnt made for me

[sorryeveryonemppw]

i was watching this tiktok that was talking about how the marauders fandom is mysoginystic and how the girls don’t get the attention they deserve and often take more background roles in fics and are used as a support to the boys story (which is unfortunately very true) BUT, i was thinking and i believe the reason that happens is not actually ill intended

PLEASE LET ME EXPLAIN MY POINT THROUGH THIS MEDIOCRE THESIS (cause my thoughts about this are too loud in my head) 🥸🧐

i’ve been in the fandom for over four years and being honest, i’ve always pivoted more to the boys and i think that’s because i’m kind of gender frustrated/confused, and when im reading about them i get this feeling like im finally able to live the boyhood i always craved but never had (ik obviously it’s very possible to have this kind of feeling irl, just not a possibility for me atm).

After all my time being a marauders fan i genuinely think that many people in the fandom feel or go thorough a similar situation, which would kind of explain the huge contrast of attention that the girls and the boys have.

Im really scared of posting this and somehow sounding like a woman hater because I REALLY RESPECT AND LOVE OUR GIRLS WITH ALL OF MY HEART, and obviously they deserve more, it’s just that at the end of a shitty day, I wanna be one of the boys yk 😭

disclaimer!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

by sharing, this im in no way defending throwing woman under a bus so m|m ships can happen, that’s cringe, stupid and fucked up

AND PLEASE STOP GIVING THEM ROLES OF JUST A SURROGATE IN FICS 😭😭😭😭

[streetkid-named-desire]

Writer's of Night City Tumblr Community!

What started as a Discord server to unite Cyberpunk 2077 fanfic writers, is now also a Tumblr community!

This was created because the Cyberpunk 2077 is such a visual fandom. But, wherever you find visual art, you also find writers. Albeit, in smaller numbers...

Sometimes it can be demoralizing wanting so badly for your work to be seen and you try so hard to remember, "It's a small subset of the fandom, numbers don't matter." And thus, this server and community was born.

As of right now, you cannot use side blogs with Communities. If you have questions or concerns, you can ask or DM @streetkid-named-desire which is my Cyberpunk 2077 side blog.

If you are interested in joining the Discord server as well, DM me!

Reply to this post or DM me if you want an invite!

Rules of this Community

These are the same rules as the server. And, just like the server, I will screen people that ask to join this community to keep Zwei, her sycophants, and other known predators and their enablers.

I am not shy about that, no. I explicitly do what I need to protect the members of the server and this community. If you take issue with that, make your own!

With that being said:

By joining this community, you agree to follow these rules which are subject to change or moderation at my discretion as needed, and agree to any moderation actions that may need to be made for violation of these rules up to and including removing the post or removing you from the community.

No bigotry: Full stop. Zero tolerance policy for any kind of bigotry.

Be nice: You are expected to not start drama in here or be shitty about other people in the community. If you are shitty to people in this community when outside the community and I find out, I will remove you from this community. No shit-stirring allowed.

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Keep politics to a minimum: art is political, cyberpunk as a genre is political, but politics are also inescapable, especially when you're of a marginalized identity. Keep it in context e.g. if your work features politics, you want to discuss meaning, etc. We're not here to debate economics, democrats vs republicans, current wars, etc. There are a million other activist spaces and this is not one.

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Unless this Community grows to become unmanageable, I am the divine ruler of this community. I am too old and have too much to do to worry about internet drama. That doesn't mean I don't care about making this space nice, it means that I prioritize what I want this space to be.

Content Guidelines

As this is a community for fanfiction writers, your posts should be centered around writing. They can include multimedia such as VP, but generally should be around writing.

OC development is also welcome and encouraged. However, that does not includes aesthetic development. We're not gonna discuss mods or review whether this hair color or another looks better. This would be about OC backstories, plans in your fics or AUs, etc.

OK to post:

Original work only: You can reblog into communities, however, it should only be used to reblog your own posts. We want to support each other and that means sharing our own work.

Links to resources: Do not reblog a random post written by some random Tumblr user about grammar rules or what tropes to avoid etc. Quality resources from other places on the internet. *Note: Reblogs from authors, publishers, or other writing app blogs are okay. e.g. Neil Gaiman, Novlr, OTW, etc.

Brainstorms, requests for feedback, etc. If you need to throw shit at a wall and see what sticks, this is the place!

Discussions of lore as it relates to writing: for example, how certain cyberware might be written or changed, fanon, etc.

Gripes about the writing process, personal struggles with writer's block, etc. (Though, try to balance it out with sharing your work/positive posts too!)

Links to templates, lists of prompts (preference given to Cyberpunk 2077 and science fiction prompts), or other creative resources.

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Art/commissioned artwork if it relates to your fanfic or OC development. e.g. if you had a specific scene illustrated or want to write about the symbolism or other details about the artwork.

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Not OK to post

Virtual photography not related to introducing an OC, photostories, or fic illustrations. @fereldanwench runs a Cyberpunk 2077 Virtual Photography community I recommend checking out if you want another place to share your VP! You can DM her for an invite or more info.

Ask games unrelated to OC development or fanfic writing. Please tag these with #oc ask game, and check the tag to see if it has already been posted.

Writing unrelated to Cyberpunk 2077: Outside of sharing links to your AO3, this place is focused on Cyberpunk 2077 fanfic. Links to AUs with the same character are okay, within reason. For example, if your same OCs are in a Baldur's Gate AU, you can post the link to the main fic. Please do not post a link to every chapter.