#sorry for writing a tiny fic in these tags lmao

[super-rangers]

okay same anon from this morning I’m back from rereading chapter 1!!

I love that Regina is already repressing her attraction to Janis before she even gets hit by a bus lmao girlie never had a chance. I swear if she wouldn’t have had a redemption arc they still would’ve ended up hate fucking at a graduation party or something

She's been repressing that attraction since 6th grade lmao It'd be unrealistic if I didn't include any thirst from the very beginning

no but you're a genius,,they definitely would have hate fucked and it would've caused a cataclysmic spiral in both of them

[desperatepleasures]

guhhhh i am struggling so much with ch3

[gravehags]

desinare

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: awwww look it's a pre-relationship fic just like old times, dinner party, reader meeting the papas, reader and copia being awkward little weirdos with baby crushes, papa nihil slander, references to other curator reader fics

Words: 3,784

Summary: Your very kind cardinal friend has invited you for a meal with three Satanic popes. Surely there's a proverb about this.

a/n: i had so so so much fun writing this lmao i didn't realize how much i missed writing them pre-relationship. my beloved nerds.

~~~

“Eh, signorina?”

“Fuck!” you yelp, dropping the stack of folders you were holding in shock. “Shit…sorry Cardinal. How do you move so quietly with all that fabric on?”

“M-many years of practice, heh,” he kicks himself for how stupid he sounds, wringing his hands while you smile kindly up at him as you stoop to pick up your papers.

“Teach me how some time? I’m always falling over myself. I’d love to have even an ounce of your grace.”

He can feel his ears burn as a dopey grin spreads across his face. She complimented you. Now compliment her back. Go on, say something charming, idiota.

“Dancing!” he half-shouts, making you jump. You fucking fool. “I…I mean I learned how…how to be graceful from dancing. Ballet. In my youth.”

You’re making an impressed face now which is worlds better from the look of terror you previously wore when he barked at you like a senile chihuahua.

“The Cardinal is a dancer?” you murmur, eyes glittering, “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“Oh, it’s been years,” he blushes, “this old body doesn’t move the way it used to.”

He swears he sees your eyes flick up and down his form and a tiny smirk lift your lips.

“I don’t buy that for a second, Cardinal.”

Are you flirting with him? You turn to busy herself with organizing your folders but Copia can see the pink tinge at the tips of your ears.

“Do you like bolognese?” he says, once again loud and blunt. 

“I…what?”

“My…my fratelli and I - the Papas that is - would very much like to meet you. A-and share a meal with you. If you are interested?”

Your mouth forms a little “o”.

“There’s more than one Papa?” you ask, cocking your head. 

“Sì, sì, there is also eh, Papa Emeritus I and Papa Emeritus II, known as Primo and Secondo, respectively. Terzo you already know,” he grumbles, and your lips twitch.

“Three Satanic popes and a Cardinal. Wow…life sure comes at you fast, huh? Never expected this from a job offer.”

“So…is that a yes?”

“No,” you say and Copia’s face falls, “I mean - shit - sorry! A no about the bolognese. I don’t eat red meat. But a definite yes for the dinner, I’d love to meet some more people here! You’re very kind to have invited me.”

“Ah,” he waves his hand dismissively, but a smile still curls his lips, “We don’t get pretty new faces around here very often. It would be our pleasure.”

It doesn’t dawn on him what he said until he sees your lips silently form the damning word and your cheeks light up. Shit, why couldn’t he be normal around you?

“Anyway,” he says, his voice going up a humiliating octave, “would you be available this week? Friday evening, perhaps?”

“It’s a date. I mean–” you look as panicked as he feels at your wording, “--a dinner date. W-with your…with the Papas. And yourself. Sorry, where should I meet you? I’m uh, still familiarizing myself with the abbey. This place is huge.”

“Eh, how about I meet you at your office and I’ll lead the way from there, sì?”

“Sì. I mean, yes. Is there a…should I dress a certain way?”

An image is conjured in his mind of you in a pretty cocktail dress, heels lifting your shapely calves and your decolletage on display—

He shakes his head to rid himself of the vision.

“Uh…dress in whatever is most comfortable. Undoubtedly Secondo will put you to work in the kitchen so–”

“Oh good,” you say, “I mean my culinary talents are uh…definitely lacking but I’d be happy to help and keep busy. Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop, and all that. Well…something like that anyway, I’m not sure if there’s a Satanic version. Anyway I am definitely blabbering on so feel free to ignore…literally everything that just came out of my mouth.”

You’re embarrassed. As if he couldn’t listen to you talk and talk and talk for eternity. He’s about to tell you something to that effect before his brain yanks him away. Bit much for only knowing her a month, fool. Instead he gives you a friendly nod, and bows slightly.

“I’ll eh, see you Friday then yes? At 6:00?”

“Sounds perfect. And…thank you. I don’t remember if I said it or not but thank you for making this place feel like home.”

He feels as if his heart is about to burst from his ribcage.

“Signorina,” he murmurs, “it is my honor. Ciao.”

“Ciao, Cardinal,” you say softly as he turns and exits your office. He doesn’t see the way you collapse into your desk chair with a dreamy sigh.

—

You’re going to be late.

As soon as your work day ended you hustled up to your apartment and began getting ready but it’s now 5:41 and you still have no idea what the fuck you’re going to wear. Half your wardrobe lies scattered on your bedroom floor (you know it’s going to make you insane when you return later that night but fuck you can’t remember what clothes you even own) as you stand in the center of the room in your underwear.

“Okay. Okay you’re going to meet three Satanic popes,” the sentence has a delirious laugh bubbling out of your throat. “Three Satanic popes and one…sweet…handsome…Cardinal. What is the correct choice.”

You eye a snug, knee length burgundy velvet cocktail dress to your left. You’ve been saving this one for a while - for a real special occasion. You would undoubtedly impress but…nah. Too much. To your right is a pair of mom jeans - you pick them up and give them a tentative sniff - acceptably clean. You toss the jeans onto your bed behind you. Okay now for a top. How about…ah! You spy a soft, dark green sweater in a pile and snatch it up. Cozy, comfortable, and practical. Perfect. As for shoes…your well-loved black Chelsea boots should do the trick. You look down at your watch.

5:48

Shit! Almost tripping more than once you jump into your jeans and pull the sweater over your head, tucking it halfway into your waistband. You don’t have the time or the patience to put any makeup on beyond a few swipes of mascara and a dark red lipstick and when you make it out the door with your phone and keys, it’s five to six. You briskly power walk the entire trip to your office and by the time you’re standing outside the door, you’re clutching your side and heaving for breath. You pray to whoever is listening that the Cardinal is a little late so you have a chance to compose yourself but before you can even form the thought–

“Signorina?”

You spin on the spot, trying to look as casual as possible.

“Cardinal!” you rasp. “Uh…hi.”

“You look lovely,” he says with an anxious little smile that gives you butterflies, “you’re glowing, signorina.”

“Thanks, it’s the sweat.”

You ought to be taken out back and shot like Old Yeller.

To your immense relief, he doesn’t look disgusted but instead seems to relax as if your odd faux-pas cuts the tension. Chortling, he gestures for you to follow him with a gloved hand.

“What’s for dinner?” you ask, as the two of you proceed down the hall.

“You’ll have to ask Secondo that, I have no idea what the maestro has planned for us this evening.”

“Sounds ominous,” you smile.

“Eh, sì. He is.”

Oh God.

“Your week has gone well?” Copia asks, adeptly changing the subject.

“Yes, just you know. Trying to make sense of everything von Schreck left me with. Can’t help but feel his presence looming over me whenever I change something he did. Did you know him well?”

“Not well, no. He was a quiet man, kept to himself. His eh, mind started to go, in the end. Became paranoid.”

“Ah. Explains his cataloging system then. If you can call it that.”

You realize you’re now in a wing of the abbey you’ve never seen before - a long hallway with a dark red rug running the length of it and arched doors. Copia stops at one that is open and gestures inside with a nervous smile.

It’s a kitchen. A very large, very well equipped kitchen with a massive island and high ceilings. There are three men standing inside it - you recognize one of them and the other two are staring in your direction. The tallest (and from what you can tell, the oldest) has a soft smile on his face. The other is also tall but broad where the older figure was slim, the overhead light glinting off his bald head. Terzo hops down off the counter, swirling a glass of wine and grinning. You’re suddenly aware of four pairs of the same mismatched eyes boring into you.

“Uh. Hi.”

The three Papas are on you like flies on honey in a snap, pulling you into the warmth of the kitchen while Copia removes his black biretta and wrings his gloved hands. With a shaky voice he introduces you to the two you are unfamiliar with and to Terzo he simply gives a hard stare.

“It’s an honor to meet all of you,” you murmur, smiling around the room, “Wow, three Satanic popes. I haven’t even met one uh…regular pope. Not to say you aren’t ‘regular’ or ‘normal’, of course. The Satanic versions are so much more interesting.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Do you drink?” the bald, mustachioed one - Secondo - asks.

“Please,” you sigh in relief. He gestures you over to the counter.

“What do you know about Italian wines, piccolina?”

Piccolina? You remind yourself to look that up whenever you manage to take a bathroom break.

“Uh, not much. That is to say…nothing.”

He smirks. You know immediately this man is a heartbreaker.

“I will teach you. This riserva is from the Ministry’s vineyards in Piedmont. Made from Nebbiolo grapes.” He pours you a generous glass which you swirl delicately in your hand before leaning in to sniff.

“Oh! I’m definitely getting…red fruits, perhaps cherries? Something mineral, like the way a damp cave smells. Hold on–”

You take a sip as Secondo watches you carefully.

“Wow that’s gorgeous,” you gush, “I didn’t smell the rose element but I definitely taste it. You said the Ministry made this?”

“Sì,” he nods, as he pours more into your glass, “I’m pleased you like it, you have excellent taste.”

“Oh, I really don’t,” you smile, “you’d cringe if I told you some of the swill I find acceptable. Particularly what I drank in college.”

He laughs loudly.

“What kind of self-respecting American college student drinks wine?”

“One from California, that’s what,” you smirk.

“Secondo stop hogging our guest,” Terzo calls from the other side of the room. “I want to see her pretty face.”

Secondo ushers you over to the small breakfast table where Copia sits with the other two Papas before leaving to fetch several wine glasses.

“Don’t you look bellissima tonight,” Terzo grins, and you blush as he gives you a very obvious once-over. That smile disappears though when he jerks violently, slamming his knee up under the table.

“Stronzino, that hurt,” he hisses at Copia, who has carefully schooled his face into a neutral expression. 

Huh. Wonder what that was all about.

You’re distracted by Primo softly saying your name and you turn to the older man with a smile.

“Are you enjoying life at the abbey so far?”

Ah. Well about that. You want to lie - to tell him everything has been smooth sailing but something about the way he looks at you instantly makes you want to be more candid.

“It’s um. It’s been…a lot,” you say, looking down into your wine glass, “The Cardinal is really the only one who speaks to me outside of Sister Imperator. I-I haven’t got out of my apartment much except to go to work. I’m a little self-conscious about exploring, to be honest.”

Primo gives you a gentle smile.

“Do you know where the greenhouses are, fiore mio?”

Fiore mio. Another one for the list.

“I think I know where the gardens are but I’m not sure if they’re nearby–”

“They are.” he says, “Sister Imperator…doesn’t have much use for an old relic like me. I spend my time tending to all that grows here. With some assistance from my ghouls.”

“Ghouls?” you ask, cocking your head.

He smiles.

“Ah, you haven’t met any yet, have you? Well I won’t spoil the surprise. I’m sure the Cardinal would love to tell you about them some time. Anyway, all this to say…please come visit me when you have the opportunity, sì? Ah, that reminds me,” he gets up and walks through an adjacent doorway to what you assume is the dining room. When he returns, he’s bearing a bouquet of vibrant pink dahlias in a glass vase.

“Oh!” you say, setting down your wine glass as Primo places the flowers on the table in front of you.

“For you, cara. To welcome you.”

You’re squeezing the meat of your thigh as hard as you can under the table to keep from crying but the tears well up in your eyes all the same.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he reaches out to take your hand into his long, wizened one.

“Cazzo, are you making her cry, you old fuck?” Terzo grouses.

“Terzo!” Copia says with a sharpness you’ve never heard from him before. You’re not sure if it’s the wine but you’re definitely picking up on some tense vibes between the two of them.

“Uh, need help with dinner, Secondo?” you ask, trying to cut the awkwardness.

“Most of it is already finished but you are welcome to assist with the antipasti. Forgive the lack of aperitivo but someone forgot to pick up olives today.”

Secondo glares across the room at Copia, who turns beet red.

“That’s okay, I don’t like olives anyway,” you say cheerily. Primo groans.

“Ugh! Philistine!” Secondo snaps, making a sharp gesture, “Get over here and atone for your sins before I kick you out of my kitchen, piccolina.”

Now your face is red.

“Yes, Papa,” you murmur obediently as you rise from the table, missing the way the four men look at each other with raised eyebrows.

“Va bene,” Secondo says gruffly as you approach the island, leaning over to pour more wine in your glass, “Do you know how to toast bread?”

You give him a look.

“I think I can handle toast,” you scoff, setting down your glass. “Are we making bruschetta?” 

He favors you with a nod and a half-smile. A point in your favor.

“Here is the olive oil,” he says, gesturing to his left, “here is the balsamic. I have already diced the tomatoes and here,” he turns and opens the large refrigerator, coming back with a healthy amount of burrata, “is the cheese. Think you got it?”

“I…think so? Wait, do you have a grill for me to use or…”

He hands you a square metal pan with holes perforated in it.

“You’ve used a brustolina before?”

No, you have not used a brustolina before.

“How hard can it be? Don’t worry about me, please go sit down.”

He gives you one last sideway glance before snagging his wine glass off the table and joining his brothers. 

Ten minutes later, Terzo is standing on the breakfast table waving a rag in front of the aggressively beeping smoke detector as Copia looks as mortified as you feel.

“It’s alright, fiore mio,” Primo soothes as you sniffle, staring at the charred remains of what used to be several slices of sourdough bread.

“It’s toast. I cannot believe I actually fucked up toast.”

Copia scurries to your side and Primo steps away to make room. When your head thunks heavy against his shoulder he wraps an arm around you, making soothing noises. 

You don’t see Terzo thrusting violently into the air with a wide grin on his face, still standing on the table but you do see Secondo yank him down when he lets out an undignified squawk. The noise has you choking out a laugh, and you turn to Copia to see him staring down at you with a painfully soft expression.

“It’s nothing, piccolina,” Secondo says, unhanding his brother, “We didn’t need bruschetta anyway. Prometto. The real star is coming soon. Please–” he picks up your wine glass and gives you yet another generous pour, “--go take a seat. Enjoy the company of the Cardinal, and Primo, and my other idiot brother.”

You nod, accepting your glass.

“Sorry,” you murmur, and you feel Copia’s hand rub warm circles on the small of your back. You’d be willing to burn all the toast in the abbey if this is what you got out of it.

“It’s nothing, signorina, truly,” he says quietly in your ear, leading you back over to the table. Secondo efficiently dumps the cremated bread into the garbage and puts an apron over his head which reads “Osculari Coquum.” 

By the time Secondo tells the four of you to take your seats in the dining room you are…pleasantly tipsy and incredibly hungry. The smells coming from the kitchen are so decadent, you can feel yourself salivating. 

“Here we are,” Secondo says, entering the room with a loaded plate, which he places in front of you, “Pollo alla cacciatora con riso.”

You have to sit on your hands to keep from rudely digging in before the others have been delivered their meals but as soon as Secondo sits down, you’re ready to strike. Before you can, Primo speaks up.

“I would like to toast our lovely new friend. To your health and happiness. May you find a home here amongst us. Benvenuta nostra sorella. Ave Sathanas.”

Sorella. The word sounds familiar, as if you’ve heard it in the abbey halls before. It makes a warmth bloom in your chest that you’re certain cannot be attributed solely to the wine.

“Grazie mille,” you murmur with a smile. “Thank you all for having me this evening, I appreciate it more than you know.”

Copia’s hand, resting next to yours on the table, twitches and ever-so-slightly his gloved pinkie finger brushes against yours. You look at him out of the corner of your eye but he’s staring diligently down at his plate, mustache twitching as he fights to smile. The sight makes your heart thud in your chest. It’s as if the two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to everyone else despite the fact that neither of you openly acknowledge the other. It’s a breathtaking feeling and you wish you could put your finger on what is so special about this peculiar man.

“Bella, if you don’t eat that I’m going to eat it for you.”

Terzo is staring at you from across the table, mouth full of chicken cacciatore. The whole room, in fact, is staring at you.

“Shit! Right! Sorry I was…I don’t know where I was. Hmm.”

The four men once again exchange a look as you politely dig into your chicken and rice. It’s divine, as you knew it would be. The conversation flows wonderfully, the Papas all eagerly explaining the Ghost project to you.

“So you are all part of the same band?”

“We each had our terms,” Primo explains, “I was the first, Secondo was second, and now Terzo is the third.”

Your brow furrows as you mouth their names and something clicks.

“I’m sorry, you’re all brothers and you’re named first, second, and third? Who does that to their kids?”

Copia snorts into his glass at your candidness.

“Our idiot father, that’s who,” Primo says, and you’re shocked at his venomous tone, “You’ve met Papa Nihil, have you not?”

Oh. You’ve met Papa Nihil alright.

“Ah…yes. Yes, we’ve met. I don’t think he cares much for me.”

Terzo laughs.

“We all have that in common, bella mia! Consider it a badge of honor.”

You don’t quite know what to say to that and an uncomfortable silence falls on the room.

“So,” Secondo begins, “you must listen to each of our albums and tell us which one you like best, sì?”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m qualified to properly judge that sort of thing–”

“We insist,” Terzo says imperiously, “I want nothing less than an album ranking and your overall top five songs. Cardinal, see to it that she gets educated.”

“I don’t see how this is my area of expertise,” Copia says sullenly, stabbing at what remains of his chicken. “It’s not my band.”

Hmm. Another frisson of tension.

Interesting.

“If everyone is done with their meal, shall we move back into the kitchen for dessert? Piccolina, how do you feel about gelato?”

Your cheeks redden at the moan that escapes your mouth. Copia coughs sharply at your side, having turned red himself.

“What’s your favorite flavor, bella mia?” Terzo asks, rising from the table as you do.

“Stracciatella, definitely, but I will never say no to chocolate.”

“Ah! A woman after my own heart! Copia do you hear this? She likes stracciatella.”

The Cardinal remains seated, nodding distractedly. As you exit the room you see Primo move closer to him and put a hand on his back, leaning in to speak quietly.

—

“Oh topolino…she’s just as lovely as you said. Kind, smart, beautiful. Burns bruschetta but eh, no one is perfect.” Primo smiles as Copia looks up at him in earnest.

“Papa…I really like her.”

It’s the first time he’s voiced his feelings out loud and he can feel the flush on his cheeks creeping down his chest.

“I know, ragazzo mio. And you know what? I think she really likes you too.”

Copia’s heart skips a beat.

“Really? You think so? I-I want to do something nice for her, something she deserves but I’m not sure–”

“Spend time with her,” Primo says, smiling, “She is very lonely. Continue to be the friend you have been thus far - that’s what she deserves.”

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” Copia murmurs, “Surely she’ll tire of me or–”

“Surely nothing of the sort,” Primo says firmly. “If she cares for you as I suspect she does, she will welcome you into her heart. All parts of you, not just the best ones. You’ll see, topolino. Prometto.”

“Grazie,” Copia whispers as Primo places a kiss on his forehead.

“Hey you two what flavor–oh, I’m sorry, I’m interrupting something.”

You move to exit the room but Copia stands abruptly.

“No, please. Stay.”

You smile. If only he knew now how you’d take that request to heart.

[peterparkersnose]

Sucks to Suck

pairing: Din Djarin x senator!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: near death experience, sexual references, sexual thots, not smut but sensual i guess?, alcohol consumption and drunk reader, respect of consent, SEXUAL TENSION and description of weaponds and snakes, tiny bit of body dysmorphia, swearing, takes place in between S2 of the Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett

The Mandalorian Airs Tomorrow!

a/n you guys see my padme reference there? huh? enjoy the tension the not angst but angst i loved writing this (it is 1am help i started writing this at 10pm) the sighing gif is literally din giving into his intrusive thoughts this whole story it was too perfect not to use (also i make up star wars planets lmao wut) my favorite mandalorian fic of mine besides secret

summary Din is Senator Y/N’s bodyguard and helps her after an attack

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read time: 10 mins 1 seconds

The Mandalorian your father hired to protect you while you were visiting planet Elaeia was less than ideal.

The same one who also came back to accompany you to a senate meet where there was a threat made against your life.

And the same one that followed you around your whole beach vacation.

Somehow he turned in to an on call babysitter for you. Every time you saw him waiting outside your ship you began to loathe the trip. And soon, he began to show up around your house. Didn’t your father trust you? You were way past the age for need of a babysitter. You were a young adult, you could be the babysitter. And you were a damn senator. But as always, you sucked it up and tried to make the best of the situation.

“Don’t you ever get tired of the suit?” you asked, trudging up the stairs of your luxury apartment you rented for the week.

“Never.” Din lied. He couldn’t count the countless times he had wanted to rip it off and spent a night with you. Chills sent down his spine as he tried to think of something different to ease himself into the long week ahead.

But you were work. Your powerful father was paying him more than any bounty could. He needed the credits more than he needed you, right?

“What do you wear under there anyways?”

He hesitated to answer. “Clothes.”

“Really?” you asked sarcastically.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he muttered, almost barely enough for you to hear.

“Where are you going to crash tonight?” you asked him, placing your bag on the ottoman in front of your bed. “Not tired,” he lied again. The way he wanted to hold you in that comfortable bed was-

He had to stop his thoughts there.

“What time is it?” you asked him. “Around 7.”

“Shit! I’m going to be late.” you panicked. “I’m sorry, I thought we had some time to rest.” you apologized, knowing Din was exhausted from the trip.

The dress that was already hung in the closet for you was what you were going to wear to the banquet tonight. Without even caring, you opened your bag and pulled out the bra you were going to wear for the night. Without hesitation, Din stepped out of the room. Not today.

The dress was a deep blue and was form fitted. It jutted out at the bottom, complimenting your shape. It had long sleeves and a low neckline where your necklace was going to rest that night. You tied your hair up into a large bun with a braid around the base.

“Your train is here…” Din said, stepping in the room carefully. “Thank you. Wait- Mando?”

His heart skipped a beat when you said his nickname. You had known his name for a while, but he still enjoyed it when you called him Mando. Din was stunned at how you looked. I mean, you always looked good. But he could imagine standing next to you at the banquet in a suit, your arm draped over his and a ring on your finger.

The armor didn’t exist in that world.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Can you get this for me?” you asked, handing him the necklace you were going to wear that night. It was gold. Large and resembled tree roots. It was to sit along your chest and clip under your breasts along with behind your neck to stay put.

He handled the necklace carefully. His arms reached up and placed the necklace in front of you as his fingers trailed up the back to clasp the neck clasp.

“Dank farrik,” he sighed. His gloves were in the way of handling the tiny clasp. “Hold it for a second,” he told you. Din sighed as he made the decision. He slowly slipped off each glove and set them down on the bed.

You seemed to tense when his hands brushed your shoulders. You turned your head and saw his gloves sitting at the edge of your bed. The skin was cold and his hands were surprisingly soft.

Din hadn’t touched a woman with his bare hands well… ever. Sure he had brought in bounties who could identify as female. But nobody as elegant and beautiful as you. He would never forget the oddly intimate encounter.

“Thank you,” you said smoothly, adjusting the necklace around your ribcage. “You could call this more of a corset,” you huffed, smiling as you caught a glimpse of his skin as he slipped his gloves back on.

Standing in the mirror, you struggled getting the bottom clasp closed. You turned your body, trying to see if you had gained a bit of weight since you last wore this piece.

“Din,” you called sweetly, almost with a bit of song in your voice. He turned around on his heel as you saw from the mirror and it made you smile. “Yes?” he asked in the same tone you called him.

The way you called for him made him think about one of the rare memories he had of his parents. How one called out to the other. It was a brief moment but gave him deja vu when he heard you speak his name. Speak his name like a wife would call to her husband.

“It won’t-”

The sigh from his modulator was hard to miss.

“Can you help?” you asked, eyes looking up into his viser.

“I’ll hold them, don’t worry.” you smiled, your hands branching down lifting up your breasts.

Under the mask his eyes widened at the comment.

Din got down on his knees to try to get a better angle of the clasp. No other reason. He tried his best to focus on the clip but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the way you held yourself. Thank the gods for the viser, or he would have died of embarrassment.

“How’s it going?” you asked him. You could feel him struggling again with the gloves.

“What if I…”

You attempted to hold your breasts with one arm and had the other hand come down to help him, but the plan failed. Your boobs folded over on his hands without fail.

His hands quickly retreated from your ribcage. You noticed the stress in his demeanor, his breathing quickened.

You thought he was upset with you. Possibly disrespecting his creed, you felt horrible. Guilt knit tightly in your stomach as you knew you were going to think about this event the whole night. The embarrassment was enough for a lifetime.

Din couldn’t care less about his creed at the moment. He had never felt boobs before.

“Oh god! I am so sorry,” you said in horror.

“I can have someone at the banquet do it, let’s just forget-”

You were silenced by the sound of his gloves hitting the ground. Once again, his hands were at your service.

“Let’s get this done. We’re going to be late.” he said.

Grabbing the chain once again, he clasped it on the first try.

He escorted you to the train silently. He held one of your hands in his. The other hand held his pair of gloves.

Din hadn’t even notice you grabbed his hand. And to be honest, you didn’t really either. It was an instinct. Trains always freaked you out and he knew that. The gap between the ground and the train car, the speed they went at. Commercial trains were filled with unsuspecting people. Thankfully, the banquet event sent out personal trains for some of the local senators.

Finally you only noticed when he pulled away to put his gloves back on as you pulled closer to the event.

Had he really been holding your hand the whole time?

Meanwhile back at the apartment you had rented, you expected it to be empty. There was no need for a guard, you had only just arrived. Your location to be revealed to possible rebels wasn’t likely, you were stationed there for only a short time. A guard would follow you home along with Din.

You knew Din was capable of protecting you, he had every time. Something about a man in armor killing in your name just did something to you. But the uncertainty of almost everything about him made you push that idea to the back of your mind. And anyways, you were bound to marry for a political reason some day. It was coming eventually you assumed. Dates were never nearly as exciting as an adventure with Din.

The guard honestly was a joke at this point. It gave your advisors a piece of mind though, so you allowed it.

The seemingly empty apartment was carefully broken into. The sliding glass door from the balcony was opened, no fingerprints left and promptly shut as the rebel left.

Poisonous snakes were left slithering in your sheets.

It was something you would later recognize as a similar thing had happened to a senator many years ago. Poisonous bugs left to crawl in her bed.

Din walked you off the train platform and back to your apartment as quickly as he could. You, on the other hand, we’re being difficult.

“Don’t you ever take vacations?” you asked him, barely able to stand upright. He ignored your strange drunken question and kept holding on to you. “You didn’t answer meee!” you yelled, breaking free from his grasp and raising your hands to the air. The mist had accumulated from the oncoming storm.

“No. I don’t.” he sighed, grabbing your arm gently and guiding you back to the lobby with a hand placed on your lower back.

“Din,” you slurred, holding on to his armor in the elevator. Your fingers marched up his beskar chest plate as you asked him this.

“You ever had a girlfriend before?”

He blinked furiously under his helmet. What the fuck?

“Y/N, let’s get you to bed. Hm?”

“But Dinnn,”

“Come on,” he sighed, placing his hand on your back. The guard was stationed at the door. Din gave him a nod.

“I’m not sleepy!” you insisted, angered that you were being forced to end this wonderful night.

Din threw his gloves on the kitchen counter. He was getting sick of the things. After all these years in gloves, his hands never felt as uncomfortable and sweaty as they did that night.

“Here,” he sighed, steadying you by the shoulder and unclasping the clasp by your neck. The heavy necklace seemed to fall off yourself, only slightly catching at the waist.

“Thank you mister.” you said, letting it drop to the floor with a shake of your hips. Along with that you left your heels.

He saw you face dive into your bed and chuckled a bit as he was picking up after you. That necklace was probably worth more than the beskar he was wearing.

Din eyed up the couch, exhausted after watching you all night. He stood in the balcony of the event and watched you drink yourself almost to the point of embarrassment until he decided it was time for you to return home.

He had just began to settle in when he heard you scream.

It wasn’t like he had heard you scream before. He was used to all the rage screams when an article came out portraying you negatively. He was used to all the screams over the phone with your friends. He was used to the muffled screams he heard as he hid in his quarters when you would have dates over and prayed it would end.

But he would never forget this one.

He knocked over the vase on the coffee table, but didn’t really care.

The prolonged scream attracted the interest of the guard who busted in, spear ready.

Din had made it in the room first. He drew his blaster watched as you simultaneously chucked a snake in his direction. His blaster shot, killing the thing.

“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing you immediately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his armor.

The guard ripped back the sheets and found three more slithering in the sheets. The sight of that made you shriek more.

Din’s hand ran across the back of your head. His fingers hadn’t felt hair like that in forever. His own locks didn’t match up to your softness.

The guard removed each snake and silently killed them.

“Cardillian Greybecks,” the guard sighed, now bagging the snake carcasses. “I’m going to bring these down to the base, are you two all right alone or should I call someone?”

“We’re fine.” Din said sternly, praying for the man to leave.

He calmed you enough to sit you back down on the edge of the bed. “Everything is okay. No more snakes, see?” he says, shaking out a blanket.

“Fuck,” you sighed, your hand running down the side of your leg. “You alright?” Din asked, shaking out the pillows just in case.

“I must have scratched my leg in the scuffle, it really fucking hurts.” you slurred, rubbing the side of your leg. Of course the alcohol was still there.

“Oh gods,” Din sighed, asking for your leg immediately. Laying back against the bed, you lifted your right leg in the air for him to inspect. If he wasn’t so worried he would have thought the pose was somewhat provocative.

“Shit,” he sighed. You were bitten.

“What?” you asked eagerly, pulling your leg back. He held on to it though, staring at the festering wound on your leg.

“It hurts. Please,” you begged, pulling your leg back. Din was scrambling on what to do.

“This…” he sighed, hating the only option available. There wasn’t enough time to get you to a proper medic.

“Hold still.”

He slowly lifted his helmet up to the bottom of his nose to reveal his mouth and chin.

“Din!” you yelled as his lips made contact with your skin. “What the-” you began, but immediately soothed as you felt the venom leaving your bite. A needy moan escaped from your lips.

Din spat out the first round of venom. It stung his lips. It wasn’t enough to kill him, it wasn’t in his bloodstream. It tasted bitter and artificial.

“Oh my god,” you whined as his lips continued to suck on the wound. “Din, holy fuck.” you moaned, squirming in his grasp.

Even though you just had been on the brink of death, this was one of the most sensual things you had ever experienced in your opinion. The thought of his lips teasing you drove you up the walls.

He spit out another round. “One more, I’m sorry.”

You gasped at his voice. No mask, no modulator. “Oh gods, don’t stop.” you begged. Your back arched as he took in the final round, finally tasting blood to indicate the venom was gone.

He spit it out on the ground and slipped his mask back on.

“What?” he asked out of breathe. He had convinced himself he didn’t just hear what he thought he did. His ears were muffled by the mask in its awkward position.

Sitting up in bed, you patted the mattress. He sat down.

“That was so hot,” you whispered near his ear.

He didn’t say anything to you. You had prayed he would rip off his mask and take you then and there. Din wanted the same thing too, he would feverishly re play this night over and over in his mind for years.

But you were wasted. And he had a creed.

Even though after each passing day without Grogu his allegiance to his creed drew weaker, he still had his limits.

Din knew you would regret those words in the morning. But the phrase Cara told him many moons ago rung in his brain.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“Talk to me when your sober.” he replied. He stood up and removed the base of the helmet once again. You embraced his body as he kissed you on the top of your head.

“Din,” you feverishly whispered. Without a second thought, you stood up. His body pushed against yours as you passionately kissed his lips. Your nose bumped the mask up more, but neither of you cared. His nose brushed against yours as you kept your eyes shut. The urge to look was strong, but you respected him too much to take a peek.

“One day,” he smiled, breaking the kiss. “Are you sure I can’t see more?” you asked. He shook his head as he pulled the mask down again. “One day,” he repeated, his voice now modulated again.

“Thank you for saving my life.” you said. “Any day,” he said sarcastically.

He placed the blankets securely over you.

The room was dim enough where he was sure if he was ever caught he would have an excuse. And you would lie for him, he was certain of it.

“Just one more thing-” you asked as his silhouette made its way through your door. He turned and looked at you.

“What color are your eyes?”

He had the widest smile on his face. The thought of you trying to form his face in your mind was almost comical for him.

“Brown. Good night, Cyare.”

“I knew they were brown, I knew it.” you whispered to yourself, convinced Din couldn’t hear.

He smiled as he retreated to the couch, unsure if sleep would visit him after his eventful night.

tag list:  @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25​ 

@peeta-is-useless @kirsteng42 @salliebley @bubsonnobx @lexloon @untitledarea @nyotamalfoy​ 

[ariseur]

Just read your last Cloud X Reader and it was super sweet! I was wondering if you could write any headcanon about Cloud being a parent? And his relationship with reader as well Sorry if it’s clear

cloud as a dad hc’s 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

i hate tagging for ffvii 😞

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of pregnancy (obviously), mentions of morning sickness and postpartum, and obviously babies, lmk if i missed anything love 💕!!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ as we all know, cloud is pretty serious or stoic most of the time. i mean, after everything that’s happened to him, you can’t really blame him. due to the harsh realities of living in the slums of midgar, he wouldn’t want kids unless you two were very stable and sure of your decision. he doesn’t want to bring a child in a world full of hate and despair, so he wants to make sure you both are ready for this!!

❥ when you do decide to get pregnant, cloud is with you every step of the way. he’s still doing jobs as way to make a living for the two of you, but when he comes home, he’s literally so sweet. i can just imagine cloud scolding you for tripping over something even though he’s literally holding you in his arms after he’s caught you lmao.

❥ he’s definitely not fazed by morning sickness or any sort of pain or gross feelings!! he will hold your hair for you when you puke and will massage you when your back hurts (even if he’s super awkward)!!

❥ yes, if you have weird or midnight cravings, cloud will get them for you. no questions asked, you could tap him on the shoulder and he levitates out of bed and just goes to get you your food. maybe a little grumbling at the fact that it’s super late— but once you remind him that you’re carrying his child, he’ll shut up real quick.

❥ i can totally see cloud having a girl and a boy, maybe not twins but at different times. i think he’d want them closer in age so they can protect each other and they’re at least somewhat close in grades? so maybe one baby and then another a year or two after? regardless of their age or their gender, cloud’ll love and cherish them no matter what they are.

❥ i can see cloud as a girl dad just because i’m thinking of those dads where they’re so intimidating and then all of a sudden you just see their tiny daughter in their arms putting bright pastel bows in their hair while they have the most serious face ever.

❥ with his daughter, he’s that, “no boyfriends until you’re 30” type guy. he will support her nonetheless but his daughters future boyfriends should know not to break her heart if they know who her dad is!! i can see cloud teaching his daughter self defense and sparring with her early in the mornings when she has too much energy. when she’s still little, i also think he’d entertain her like he did yuffie where he’ll pretend she beat him up and is just like “(っ｡‸◟ c)”

❥ with his son, he’d also teach him self defense!! there’s not much, if anything, mentioned about cloud’s dad so i think it’d be cloud without a father figure that he’s able to ask for help or depend on when he needs advice. he just doesn’t want his kids growing up like he did.

❥ i dunno about you guys, but i literally adore the little dynamic cloud and denzel have in ac— hence why i made that one fic where reader and cloud took care of him and marlene for the day. i just think it’s really neat how he really looks up to cloud, and i think cloud would appreciate it in his own.. awkward way? so i can just imagine you taking the babies to watch cloud while he trains or exercises or smth and they’re just in utter awe because— their dad is literally so cool??

❥ yes, they will ask for a sword afterwards. please resort to cardboard ones, we do not need any poked out baby eyes on the ground 😭

❥ cloud is the type of parent who’ll multitask around the house and insists that your rest, especially during postpartum. he’ll have a double baby carrier on him, a baby on his chest and other on his back while he’s mushing up their food and simultaneously on the phone with tifa.

❥ speaking of tifa!! she is literally an angel, she will gladly take them off your hands if you guys need it. the babies like to call her “auntie tifa” and she loves it lol. she’ll take them to meet marlene and denzel (depending on which arc we’re in) even though they’d probably be a bit older than your guys’ kids? but nonetheless they love them anyways!!

❥ imagine cloud doing pull-ups with both the babies on him in the carriers LMFAOOO

❥ yeah, these kids are getting spoiled. even if not by you, definitely by cloud. he can be stern but when they’re babies, he can’t help but give in. i can’t help but imagine cloud picking up the babies all awkward when they’re crying and he has like no idea what to do until you coax him into holding the baby properly as he keeps looking up at you for reassurance that he’s not doing anything wrong 😭.

[joelsgoldrush]

wip wednesday: "lovers once a year" (dbf!joel miller)

hello to you, tiny people on my phone. reaching the end of this semester has thrown me onto a motherfucking rollercoaster. if i even think about the amount of finals i have to sit for, i'm afraid i'll tear up. so here i am, drifting away from real-life responsibilities </3 still working on this dbf!joel fic cause i haven't had much time to write lately, but i'm trying not to be too hard on myself. i really like how it's coming along. i'm close to finishing, though i'm not going to promise a specific posting date because i never seem to manage it LMAO

anyway, thank you to @elflutter @joelsdagger and @ovaryacted for tagging me!!!

No one could’ve ever said Joel was a great best friend. For one, he was terrible at remembering important dates. His mind just didn’t catch hold of details like that—never had, really. He wasn’t the affectionate type, either. At best, he’d manage a pat on the back or a firm handshake, maybe even a call on Christmas if he remembered. Emotional displays weren’t in his nature, far too used to keeping things at arm’s length. Luckily for him, Stephen never seemed to care much about these things. They’d been friends for over forty years—which is, well, a hell of a long time, especially considering each had gone off to carve out his own life. They’d trudged through both primary and secondary school side by side, and Joel felt Stephen’s absence like a hollow ache the day his friend left for university in another state. Technology eventually offered them more ways to connect, but it didn’t make keeping up any simpler. The years had tested them, and somehow, they’d held on to the quiet strength of their friendship—a bond they’d forged across decades and distance, held steady like the roots of an old tree. Stephen was the laid-back type, always down for anything as long as a cold beer was part of the deal. It was rare for him to lose his temper, having a way of letting nuisances slide. Joel could bend every rule, yet Stephen’s patience never wavered. He was unflappable, hardly bothered by Joel’s mood swings, which was what made them a match made in heaven. Nothing seemed to throw him off. Though Joel doubts Stephen would stay so calm if he knew what he’d done to his daughter. As mentioned, Joel’s not exactly what you’d call a good friend—particularly considering he’s slept with his best friend’s daughter. Just once, to be fair. One ephemeral, impulsive encounter. Right here, in this very house, exactly three hundred and sixty-five days ago.

AND

Apart from the glint in your eyes, he catches the persistent, quiet ache of want. He isn’t sure if it’s just physical attraction, if it runs deeper, or if that’s all it is for him, either. He doesn’t need to know. The simplicity of it all is a short-lived relief. It’s an easy escape, though, this bare minimum of understanding—you want him, he wants you. Let it be enough for one more moment, for tonight, just another memory he’ll have to lock away. Yet he’s aware, deep down, of his own pattern: promises broken just as easily as they’re made. He’s only fooling himself. The part of him that knows this isn’t something he’ll let go of so easily sits there, silently taunting him, daring him to make another promise he won’t keep.

tagging: @lubdubology @zloshy @princessanglophile @cavillscurls @guiltyasdave @tightjeansjavi @mrsmando - so sorry if you've already been tagged :( - and anybody else who feels like doing it!

[lincolndjarin]

A Little Mishap.

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day five - afab!reader x dark!francisco morales

prompt : hate sex [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 1.4k (sorry all of these are so short, there's so many i've been struggling to make them longer)

summary : READ ALL WARNINGS. THIS IS MY FIRST DARK FIC. you and frankie return to base camp after an unsuccessful mission, each of you blaming the other for the outcome.

warnings, etc. : dead dove do not eat, dubcon/noncon, dark!frankie, unprotected p in v, spanking, use of restraints, panty gag, painful sex, degradation, orgasm denial, creampie, ambiguous ending, probably other things lmk if i forgot any tags

a/n : a lot of my october stuff is gonna be barely edited so my apologies for that but this is my first time writing frankie but also my first time writing any sort of dark fic and i'm definitely feeling anxious about posting this but here it is uhhhh yeah. i've been finishing all of these before work this week and having this tiny little time crunch before doing a ten hour shift really wakes me the fuck up lmao.

He shoves you into the tent, both of you fuming at this point. Neither one of you speaks as you take a seat on your cot, putting your head in your hands. After a moment you can see his boots appear in front of you. 

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you.” He growls and you feel your jaw tense as you look up at him. 

“You can’t believe me?” You say incredulously. “If it weren’t for me we’d have nothing.” 

“If it weren’t for you we might have everything.” He hisses, planting a hand firmly on your shoulder as he shoves you back into the wall, you sit up quickly, kicking his knee in retaliation, watching as he slumps to the floor. 

“I did exactly what Santi would have wanted me to do in that situation.” You usually don’t physical when you two fight, (which is happening more and more often these days) but today you’re fed up with him, you’d been on that mission with just him for over a week when he’d fucked up. You could have lost everything if you’d listened to him, at least now you had half the haul. 

“La puta…” He grumbles, grabbing you by your ankles as you lean back to kick him again. “Os voy a dar una lección.” He mumbles, twisting your legs until you stop resisting. You swallow a squeak that threatens to bubble up from the pain, you’re about to swing on him when he pushes you back down, his hands swiftly yank your pants down making you freeze in shock. He doesn’t give you a chance to protest as he drags you off the cot, knocking the wind out of you as you hit the tent floor.

“Asshole!” You yelp as he pins you down with his knees, taking both your wrists in one large hand as you squirm beneath him, trying to flip him off you.

“Fucking- quit it.” He delivers a sharp slap to your jaw promptly halting your struggle as you scowl at him. You’re about to hurl another insult at him when you hear the familiar sound of his switchblade flipping open. “Don’t move.” He mumbles as you feel the cold steel against your hip and in an instant you hear a slicing, followed by the same on the other side, you squeeze your thighs together instinctively as he pulls your panties off with ease now that the sides are torn.

“Frankie!” You shriek and he takes the opportunity to shove the bunched up fabric between your teeth.

“‘Talk too damn much.” You try to kick him again as he tugs your pants the rest of the way down, bringing them up as he haphazardly flips you onto your stomach, binding your hands behind your back with one of your pant legs. You’re about to spit your panties out when you feel the steel on your throat. “You keep that smart mouth of yours stuffed or I’ll find another way to shut you up.” His blade digs into your flesh as a silent warning and you don’t dare. He gives you a minute to decide what you want to do and you choose to just stay still, trying desperately to steady your breathing. 

He digs his knee into your lower back one more time, eliciting a pained groan from you before slotting himself between your thighs. You’re dizzy from everything happening so fast and he doesn’t give you much of a chance to process any of it as he takes hold of your makeshift cuffs, dragging you upright as you kneel, his free hand wrapping around your waist to cup your mound. 

“You know how often I think about this?” He rests his temple on yours as his chin sits on your shoulder, his body heat suffocates you. 

How many times had you reluctantly thought about the same thing? Rolling to face away from him in your shared tent and shoving your hand between your legs, imagining what it would be like when he finally got sick of your shit and bent you over. You’re snapped out of your thoughts as he dips two fingers between your folds with a satisfied sigh. He slides his digits back and forth, scooping up your abundant wetness with a throaty chuckle.  

“You get off on bein’ a brat?” He dangles his fingers in front of your face before rubbing your slick onto your parted lips, forcing you to taste your own arousal. “Then I’ll treat you like a brat.” He tangles his fingers in your hair, yanking your head up as you feel him grind the front of his pants against your ass. “Fuckin’ soaking me.” He bends you over, forcing your ass up and pushing your face into the floor. He keeps one hand locked around your wrist as the other shoves his own pants down. You whine into the makeshift gag. “Maybe I’ll just fuck some obedience into you.” 

You let out a squeak as he slaps your rear. He lets his palm rest there, before roughly spreading your cheeks. You hear him spit, followed by the sensation of it dripping down your seam, you can feel him lining himself up at your entrance, all of his actions are rushed and you just can’t keep up, your body doesn’t even have time to make an attempt at defending yourself as he rams himself into you without warning. A muffled squeal falls from your lips as he beings to fuck you mercilessly, giving you no time to adjust to the sheer size of him. 

With your face pressed into the floor you can’t see him but you can certainly feel just how thick he is. The underlying pleasure does nothing to soothe the feeling of being split open by him. 

“Jesus-” He grunts out, your pussy gushing around him only spurs him on, his movements somehow becoming harsher as he bumps against your g-spot with ever slam of his hips, the combines overstimulation and pain makes your eyes water, a few tears slipping past your lash line. “Dunno how I’m gonna last in such a tight cunt.” He slaps your ass again, hard enough that you’re pretty sure you’ll have a mark, drawing a sob from you. “Fuckin’ choking my cock when I do that.” 

He spanks you again, a loud crack rings throughout the tent as your cunt involuntarily clamps down on him, his hips stuttering forward. 

“You fucking love this, don’t you?” His voice is low and dangerous as the rough denim of his jeans scratches at your thighs. “Is that why you keep squeezin’ me?” You don’t realize he expects a response until he smacks you again. “You love this?” You nod fervently, mumbling something similar to a yes into your panties. “You wanna finish on my cock?” Much to your own dismay you nod once more.

You don’t know how, but against all odds you really are close. The coil tightening in your stomach threatens to consume you as you try desperately to force yourself over that edge to no avail.

“That’s too bad, only good girls get to come.” He growls, readjusting himself so one hand is tangled in your hair and the other is gripping your wrists, keeping you hovering above the tent floor rather uncomfortably, your lurch forward with every one of his brutal thrusts. You groan something that sounds like his name but you know it’s useless to try and reason with him. With a few more long drawn out thrusts you feel him burst within you, his grip on your hair tightens and you shriek as his release begins dripping from your swollen cunt as he slips out of you.

Your tears are drying on your face and you slump forward once his hands release you. Your body continues to buzz with frustration, a small part of you is genuinely upset at your lack of an orgasm. You can hear the rest of your mission party returning as Frankie leans forward and presses a kiss between your shoulder blades, a sharp contrast to everything he just did to you. You can hear the zipper on his pants as he pulls himself together, leaving you wrecked on the floor. 

“Why don’t we see how Pope feels about your little mishap?” He whispers before you turn your head just in time to watch him lean out of the tent, calling Santiago over.

a/n : i would love any sort of feedback on this?? i've never written anything like this before so i'm a little nervous.

[chairofchaos]

Coffee & Psychotherapy: Something New

Pairing: Eris x Azriel (AZRIS IS BACK IN TOWN, BABYYYY) Summary: In which Azriel encourages Eris to see a mind healer, and they start the healing journey together. This, of course, requires copious amounts of coffee, and possibly some new thing called “hot chocolate”. For Day 3 of Eris Week: Healing @erisweekofficial Rating: Teen Word Count: 2.6k Tags & Warnings: domestic fluff, tiny, tiny, tiny bit of angst, because our ken dolls are traumatized, but it is sweet and soft and gentle, like so many other things in my repertoire (kidding lmao), coffee and hot chocolate should be listed as tertiary characters. OH and TW for mention of Beron (sorry)

Read it on Ao3 HERE! (or below the cut <3)

A/N: Happy Day 3 of Eris Week! Thank you to @tsunami-of-tears for the gorgeous dividers! Shoutout to @dusk-muse who I may have forced to request some idea for fluff. Kudos to @ninthcircleofprythian for her help reminding me of this coffee post (HERE), which loosely inspired this fic in that most of the ACOTAR characters would greatly benefit from some therapy.

That being said, I am not qualified to write actual therapy things, so there will be no actual therapy session content. There are passing mentions of what was discussed in a session, but it’s like 3 lines total. This is centered around domesticity and love. <3

Eris loved coffee. He loved the simplicity of buying the roast beans from the shop, the sound of the grindstones, the scent of freshly ground coffee beans. When he and Azriel had first met, they drank coffee each morning. Eris drank it black. And Azriel, without fail, filled his cup with enough sugar and cream that even Eris’ mother had noticed it with some concern.

Azriel hated coffee. But he liked what coffee could do for him. He was never without a mug, so much so that Eris kept buying him mugs of different shapes and sizes, different spellwork to keep his coffee warm, to make all coffee added to it sweet, to refill automatically. Eris liked coffee. Azriel just liked feeling awake.

Because Azriel was a horrible sleeper. Terrible. Eris didn’t know what to blame - court of origin, childhood trauma, his former line of work, his shadows whispering to him constantly. All were contenders for the crown of keeping the former spymaster awake at all hours of the night.

Eris was no saint, either. Cauldron knew he kept his mate up some nights. But the Cauldron also knew Azriel would get out of bed in the middle of the night and take off into flight, not returning until he knew Eris would also be awake. After the first time, they would rarely talk about where Azriel went or what he did. Instead, Eris would press a mug of overly sweet coffee into his hands and they would sit together in silence on the front porch, Azriel’s head on Eris’ shoulder and their hands clasped together.

Despite the way the habit had begun, Eris treasured those moments with his mate. Watching the sunrise radiate through the autumn clouds, it was easier to forget the foundational pain which motivated them in this tradition.

This morning was different. Eris woke to find Azriel’s side of their bed cool, the blankets rumpled as if his mate had spent half the night fidgeting restlessly until he simply gave up. The sun wasn’t up yet, so he got up, yawning as he flicked a hand at the fireplace. Reinvigorated, the coals flickered back to flames, Eris’ power breathing new life into them. He would drag Azriel back to bed if he could, and the cozier the room was, the more likely Azriel would be to let him when they were done watching the sun rise.

The hallways were dark, but the kitchen lamps were lit. Eris blinked sleepily at them, yawning once more as he stepped into the kitchen. 

Azriel stood there, hands on the edge of the sink as he stared out the broad window. His shadows swirled lazily across the expanse of his back, their dark cloak about him in a guarded comfort.  “Good morning.”

This was new. “Good morning, Az.” Eris paused, but Azriel didn’t move. “Are you alright?”

Azriel nodded, reaching to pick up his mug. “Just drinking my coffee.” One shadow twined around his leg, then darted to Eris and nestled behind his ear. ‘Upset,’ it whispered. Eris nodded. Clearly, he thought. But he wouldn’t say that to the shadow which only wished its master well.

It was rare the shadows deigned to speak to him. He wasn’t entirely sure how it happened in the first place, though he suspected it had something to do with the piece of his soul that was Azriel’s, and the piece of Azriel’s that was his. Whatever limited power it granted him, he was thankful for the insights of the shadows into his mate’s moods, whenever they chose to share.

“Az,” he began as the shadow spun back towards Azriel. 

“I made coffee,” Azriel interjected. “It’s in the kettle.” 

Eris nodded, crossing the room. “Thank you.”

They were silent for a moment. Eris poured his coffee, then crossed to stand beside his mate.

“What’s wrong?”

Azriel gave a wry smile, nudging Eris with his wing. “Couldn’t sleep. Too many memories, I suppose.”

“You’re drinking your coffee black,” Eris observed, taking a sip of his own. “That’s unlike you.”

“And you are observant, as always.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Azriel shook his head. “No. Not now. I had something I wanted to tell you, though.”

“Alright.”

“I’m going to see a mind healer tomorrow morning.”

Eris smiled. “Okay.”

Azriel looked at him, turning to lean against the counter. He paused a second, looking pensive. “I want you to come with me. I checked your schedule, you’re available. I know it’s last minute, but I want to talk about something, and I’d like to do it there.”

Eris nodded slowly. His mate wasn’t one to do things half-heartedly. “Can you tell me what it’s about? It might help me to be a little prepared.”

“I want to talk about you.”

“What, specifically?”

Azriel shrugged, scooping his mug up in his left hand and cradling it against his chest. “I’ve been seeing the mind healer for a couple of months. It’s been my meeting every week, the recurring block on my calendar that’s marked as ‘busy’. I wasn’t ready to talk about it, I don’t think, but I want to. And I want you there, if you are willing.”

“I am willing. What do you want to talk about?”

“I think you should see someone.”

“Someone.”

“A mind healer. Not mine, probably, but someone.” Azriel sighed, looking over his shoulder at the trees ruffling in the breeze. “You internalize the way I do, and I think you might find it helpful.”

Eris nodded. “I’ll go tomorrow. But I can’t promise anything.”

Azriel smiled. “That’s all I ask.”

“What did you think?”

The remains of dinner were spread in front of them; the pumpkin ravioli Eris loved, a pitcher of apple cider which would probably get mixed with some bourbon later that night. Azriel took a bite of the spiced cake. It was one of his favorites, Eris knew. No wonder the cook had been so amused when he made the request. The pumpkin ravioli was time consuming, and Eris never requested it except on special occasions, which meant Azriel had made the request for him. Perhaps it was an effort to soften this very conversation.

“I think it was good,” Eris shrugged. “It wasn’t what I expected.”

“Is there anything we talked about you wanted to come back to?” Azriel set his fork and knife down, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t want to go to bed with things unsaid.”

Eris smiled. “Thoughtful. No, not really. Why were you drinking your coffee black yesterday?”

Azriel chuckled. “I was wondering if you would come back to that.”

“Do you blame me? You hate drinking it black.”

“I know. I wanted to try it again.”

“For any particular reason? Or just because?”

“Just because.”

“Did you like it?”

Azriel laughed. “No. I still hated it.”

Eris smiled. “I’m not surprised.”

Azriel was right. It was helpful, the sessions with the mind healer. Eris hadn’t expected to feel as challenged or as supported, but he was both. He could discuss anything. Though they often touched on the day to day stress he experienced as High Lord, they just as easily discussed his childhood, his family, and the horrors of war. 

He enjoyed the walk there and back. He had winnowed, at first. He had been concerned about being seen at the building, preferring the anonymity winnowing straight into the office could provide him with. Over time, he found it peaceful to walk, whether it rained or the sun was on his face as he came and went. His route took him through some small roads in the city, roads he knew but wouldn’t have regularly walked had it not been for the small healing office on Maple Street. It gave him time to think, and every other week, he walked by the market set up along the street adjacent. 

The area held mostly offices, service-oriented businesses with at least a few employees each, and the market benefitted. They rotated through the city, ten different locations for two weeks worth of opportunities for sales. 

The shops participating rotated on occasion, so Eris always made a point of engaging with them, occasionally stopping on his way home to buy lunch or something to send to his nieces and nephews in Day and Night. Today, it had been raining, and the smell of cinnamon and chocolate wafted on the foggy breeze as he passed through, an umbrella in his hand. The less he used his powers in public, the more unnoticed he would go.

“May I interest you in a hot chocolate?” a merchant called to him from under his canopy. “Favorite of the Winter Court, and it’ll warm you on a day like today!”

Hot chocolate. “I’ll take one,” he smiled. The merchant smiled in return. “Certainly. Would you like coffee extract? It will give you the wakefulness of coffee without the flavor, or I can give you a coffee hot chocolate mix for the same effect.”

“I’ll take one with no coffee, please.”

“Of course, my Lord.” Eris stifled a laugh. He was unable to be anonymous, even dressed as simply as he was in a blue buttoned shirt and trousers.

When the merchant handed him the mug, she said, “The mug is spelled to return, unless you wish to buy it. My children make them– they own the pottery studio on the eastern side of North Village.”

“I have plenty of mugs at this point, unless my hounds decide they want to break them again,” Eris explained. “I appreciate it, though. If you have a moment, may I ask you a question about the coffee extract?”

The merchant nodded. 

“Does it provide all the same effects as coffee? I know someone who drinks coffee like water, but hates the flavor.”

“This may be good for them, then. It can be mixed in any drink to the same effect, though of course we mostly put it in hot chocolate.”

“You wouldn’t happen to sell the extract, would you?”

The merchant shook her head. “I don’t have enough at this point to be able to do that.” She paused, then added. “I could maybe sell you a bit for a trial, and then if you liked it, I could provide a supply as an importer. It may be expensive.”

Eris waved a hand. “That’s no matter. May I add a hot chocolate with the extract, please? I’ll have him try it today, and then I can let you know.”

She nodded. “Give me one moment to make it for you.”

Eris watched as she scooped a tan powder into a mug. If Azriel liked it, his sugar consumption would decrease considerably. Plus, he would likely enjoy the drink. He liked chocolate more than most people Eris knew, save perhaps Nesta and Gwyn. And Azriel wouldn’t have to drink coffee. The merchant added the hot chocolate, stirred for a few seconds, and then set the mug on the table. “Here you are.”

“Thank you.” Eris handed over a few coins. He took her contact information, making a mental note to contact her before the end of the week. She sent him off with a smile and a wave, his umbrella tucked carefully between his wrist and his body to keep it in place as he walked with his hands full.

He walked in silence, only pausing to greet the occasional passersby, until a small wisp of a shadow darted out of the sky and wrapped itself around his wrist. “Is everything alright?” The shadow darted away again, quick as it had come. Was Azriel alright?

Eris heard him before he saw him, the loud flap of wings announcing his descent. When Azriel landed next to him, his hair plastered to his forehead, Eris grinned. “Hi.”

“Are you alright? You’re usually home by now.”

“I’m fine,” Eris said, extending the mug which held the concoction. “For you. Walk with me?”

“What’s this?” Azriel quirked an eyebrow, but took the mug all the same.

“Hot chocolate, she said. With a coffee extract that apparently has no flavor, but gives you the same benefits of wakefulness.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“I hoped you’d say that.”

They set off, Azriel tucking Eris close and replacing the umbrella with his wing. “How was your session?” 

“It was good,” Eris sighed. “A bit of discussion about Father.”

“Ah. Feeling alright?”

Eris nodded. “Tired, but fine.”

“Maybe it’s a good day to cancel the rest of your meetings?” Azriel suggested slyly, nudging his shoulder. “Seeing as it’s so dreary. We can spend the rest of the day together.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working with the guard this afternoon?”

“Cobblestones get too slippery,” Azriel protested. “I wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings when they slip and fall.”

Eris snorted. The Autumn Guard was more than used to rain, and trained on those cobblestones every single day. They had learned how not to fall.

“And this isn’t at all an excuse to spend the afternoon together?”

Azriel grinned, pressing a kiss to Eris’ temple. “It’s a good excuse.”

“Uh huh,” Eris laughed, pausing their strides with a grin and a hand on Azriel’s arm. “Convince me.”

It wasn’t a challenge as much as a tactic to get Azriel to kiss him. Their first date, they had both been guarded, despite their admissions the previous week that they had been dancing around each other for far too long to ignore the ongoing attraction. “Go on another date with me,” Eris had asked at the end of the night. Azriel had smirked, then said, “Convince me.”

Eris had taken the opportunity to kiss him. Ever since, they’d used the challenge as an invitation.

“Happily,” Azriel grinned, sliding an arm around Eris’ shoulders. He kissed him deeply, cradling Eris’ head in his arm. Eris sank into him, the exhaustion of a session with the mind healers hitting him full blast. “Consider me convinced,” he murmured, laughing against Azriel’s lips.

Azriel pulled back, grinning. “Good. Especially since I already canceled your meeting with Lord Merton.”

Eris snorted. “Of course you did.”

“Do you blame me? You know, my mate buys me delicious drinks. I do love this, by the way.” Eris amended the mental note to write to the merchant immediately. “And he kisses me in the rain like he’s drowning and needs me like air. Not to mention, he hasn’t taken as much as half a day off since Solstice two months ago.”

“Alright, alright,” Eris laughed, pressing a kiss to Azriel’s temple. “Let’s take the afternoon off. Maybe today calls for just sitting by a fire.”

Azriel grinned, leaning in for another kiss. It was sweet, and soft, and Eris found himself humming his satisfaction against his mate’s lips. 

“Agreed,” Azriel grinned. “Maybe in bed. Warm blankets await.”

They resumed their walk, sipping their respective drinks. When Eris finished his, the mug disappeared in silence, and he slipped his hand into Azriel’s.

“Az?” Azriel hummed in response. “Do you think we’ll ever be done with the mind healers? There’s so much to sort through. I wonder if we’ll ever get through it all.”

“I don’t know. I think it’s hard to say. It doesn’t have to end, which is a good thing. And maybe, if we feel good for a while, we take a break, and we go back.”

“Do you ever worry it will feel like a failure?”

“Do you think it’s a failure if you need help again?”

Eris shrugged. “Maybe.”

Azriel nodded. “You could talk about that next week, if you think it will help you. And maybe we can talk about that at our next combined session.”

“We should do that again. It’s been a while.”

“Alright. Let’s get it on the calendar. Any chance we could make it a date, too? I’d love to get some more of this hot chocolate.”

Eris smiled, resting his head on Azriel’s shoulder. “It’s a date.”

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @unanswered-stars @c-starstuff-man0

If you want on or off the taglist, give me a shout!

[flowersforbucky]

Do you have any general advice for someone who wants to post their writing but is scared to? I write a lot. But I have never posted on tumblr or anywhere else. I don't know why but I'm so nervous to.

had to add a keep reading link because i ended up rambling way more than i originally intended to 😅 sorry if this isn't helpful or isn't the kind of answer you were looking for but here's a summary of my experience with writing/posting on tumblr and some general tips -

i completely understand being nervous. i feel nervous every time i post my writing. i'm always worried that people won't like it, that it'll flop, etc. when i first tried posting bucky fanfiction about 5 years ago, and when i posted eddie munson fanfiction a couple years ago, just about everything i posted performed really poorly. i had a couple pieces that did alright but for the most part, just about everything flopped. and it was very discouraging, i would let it get to me too much for sure - i'd wonder how other people got their work to get so many notes so easily when nothing i did seemed to help.

so when i started writing/posting for bucky again a few months ago i was really nervous, since i hadn't had much luck in the past. i decided to give it a shot anyway, and told myself that i'm doing this for fun, and if people like what i put out then great, and if not then i wouldn't let it get to me because at the end of the day i'm doing this for myself, because i want to.

everything i've posted for bucky the last few months has surpassed my expectations, truthfully. i don't really know why all of my one-shots have performed so much better this time around than when i first tried to write for him back in 2019 - maybe my writing has improved? maybe i'm just getting lucky and posting at the right times? maybe it's the fact that i write more smut than i used to and the fandom seems to love that? maybe a little bit of all of those things? i'm not 100% sure, but i'm happy to give you some tips that i think work for me, at least.

also disclaimer i definitely don't think i've been doing this long enough or am a "big enough" writer within this community to even be giving advice LMAO but since you asked!!

i usually post on wednesday or friday evenings and i've had good interaction on both of those days, however fridays have been the best and i think i will be sticking to friday evening posts for the most part in the future

i usually post between 7:00 - 10:00 pm eastern time, most often around 9:00 pm - if the time you post doesn't seem to work well, try a different time with the next post

tags tags tags! add the most relevant tags first, and avoid adding tags that are irrelevant. so when i post for bucky i add tags such as the following: bucky barnes x reader, bucky x reader, bucky barnes, bucky barnes x you, bucky barnes smut, etc

write a brief summary for the piece that will draw people in but not give tooooo much away. also always give appropriate warnings

use the "keep reading" feature. to be completely honest, if someone posts something that's 500+ words and they don't use the keep reading feature, i'm instantly going to get annoyed that it's clogging up the feed and scroll past it lol. i personally like to insert the "keep reading" link a couple paragraphs into my fic so that people can read the first tiny bit of it and (hopefully) be interested enough to click the link and keep reading.

don't be afraid to reach out to other writers in your fandom and initiate friendships. i know this can be super intimidating because they usually already have mutuals that they are close with but what's the worst that can happen with trying? most people here love making new friends/mutuals and want to be supportive of new writers, though i know it doesn't always feel like that. not everyone that i've followed/interacted with has followed me back but a lot have!

tease snippets of upcoming fics before posting them (and make sure to add a bunch of tags so more people see) to help people get excited, draw in new followers, etc. pick a few lines of dialogue, or a specific paragraph or whatever, that you're particularly proud of and screenshot/copy & paste it and post it and basically say hey here's a snippet of an upcoming fic! i don't always do this but i like to on occasion

lastly, and this piece of advice won't necessarily help your writing perform well notes wise, but i think it's important to remember: write and post what YOU want to write and post. this is a hobby, this is supposed to be fun, and you are not getting paid for this. if you don't want to write smut, DON'T write it just because it's popular and you feel like you have to. if you don't want to write reader inserts and prefer OCs, then write an OC. if you prefer writing one-shots and drabbles over multi-part series, then write one-shots and drabbles! of course readers are going to have their preferences and that's fine, i have my preferences when it comes to reading fanfiction as well, but it's not your job to appeal to every reader out there. it's your job to enjoy this hobby as much as you can and write things that you're proud of.

[appleblocks]

Alright say hypothetical I don't know anything about your aus and say I really wanted to know more about them.

Could I get a summary(or the main plots of your aus?) :^D

Only if you wanna!

Of course!! :3

My aus are nothing too special compared to others out there, but I still love them a lot and know some of my friends here like them too <3

My first au was one I called Apple's Mythical AU, though the name might change one day, and it was very much based on my Glowsquid Joel design. It's really just my version of Hermitcraft Season 10 but most people (if not all, cause i havent drawn them all yet) are some type of creature. Joel is a Glowsquid Kraken with a humanoid form to be able to hang out with everyone, Gem is an Anglerfish Syren, because of her Dredge inspiration <3, Grian is,,,,, Grian. I drew him as a fish last time I drew anyhting of that au but to me he is a Watcher in disguise in every universe, so that fish design (if you could even call it that) will be retconned eventually.

In terms of lore I have the most for Joel, cause he's the character that sprouted all of this, and it goes like this:

Joel used to be the god of Stratos. Powerful, strong, tall, handsome, the whole package. But he took his powers for granted, and crossed a line that the Watchers, the elder gods, did not accept. He tried to force life with his powers, in the creation of Tiny Tom, and it nearly ripped a hole into their world because there was not enough data for the world to generate a proper creature, and so it was turned into a creature of void that the Watchers had to take away and stabilize, leaving them in another world for safety. The Watchers then stripped Joel of his godly powers and sent him crashing down to the ocean to die, but his wife Lizzie, The Ocean Queen, caught him and made him a new form, making him the first Glowsquid Kraken and allowing him to keep living.

I love him very much <3

@/stiffyck has a really cool Kraken Scar au and one time they drew my glowsquid Joel with him!! :3 You should go check them out!!

As for my other au, it kinda stems from that first one, but it is a Next Generation AU. I'm currently writing a fic for it, and the premise of the au as a whole is quite simple: the (mostly) cannonical kids of the hermits and lifers grown up and having their own adventures! <3

I'm a sucker for Next Gen aus, and this adoration started back in my MLP days lmao

The au follows Hermes (Empires 2), Tiny Tom (Empires 2), Grumbot (HC 7), Jrumbot (HC7), and Jeremy Jr. (SOS smp) in their lives as young adults, exploring their friendships and their familial relationships, and my fic Fresh Life (name derived from the term Fresh Meat) follows them experiencing their first Life Series together, with the return of the Boogeyman and a new Canary :3 I'm currently writing Chapter 1 and I'm writing it in 'Sessions', so each chapter will be the span of 1 mc session, roughly. I have multiple tags for this but the main ones are #next gen au and #project fresh life!

And I'm posting that one on AO3 now that I finally have an account!! The link is in my pinned post :3

Thank you so much for the ask!!! X3 sorry for the long and late reply, haha 😅

[skibasyndrome]

Hey Simon 💜,

1, 2,4, 36, 39, 41, 46 and 47 for the fanfic ask :)

Hope you have a lovely weekend!!

Hi Sophia 🥰 Thanks so much for sending in an ask! I'll try my best to reply with the tiny catalog of read fics I have available haha.

favorite fanfic of all time

I cannot possibly answer something as... final as this lmao. I'll just name my recent faves again (sorry for tagging you guys again):

The most beautiful boy by thelovelysarcastic (not on tumblr? idk?)

Treasures and Treachery by itsme_hi_imtheproblem/@iwouldnevergetintofanfic

Ivy by unfortunate17/@unfortunate17

2. favorite writer of the fandom

You see... now I have a very similar problem, lmao. Toooo many amazingly talented people whose writing I am obsessed with, to possibly decide, but I'll give a few definite faves:

@earlgrey-lateatnight (RubyIntyale), @ungaroyals (embracedthevoid), @unfortunate17, @darktwistedgenderplural, @iwouldnevergetintofanfic (itsme_hi_imtheproblem), @stretchoutfics (strechoutandwait), ... (and I'm sure I'm already forgetting people and fics arghhh)

4. the fanfic you would recommande for somebody not in the fandom

Honestly? All of my favorites.

But I actually did send a link to you can stay by origamifrogs/@princewillesothermom to my bf @alkalinetrios yesterday because I was like "I don't care that you're not involved, you HAVE to read this". (it's beautiful and heart-wrenching and a masterpiece)

36.   your favorite trope

So if we're learning one thing here today, it's that I am highly indecisive. God, I love so many tropes. I think it'd be easier to ask which tropes I don't like, I guess?

But I definitely love a good slow-burn, a good friends-to-lovers or enemies-to-lovers or strangers-to-whatever-to-lovers with everyone suffering from being painfully in love. I guess I just very much love reading about them falling in love and being dumb about not noticing that it's mutual lol. Yeah I think that's it, something like mutual, very lovesick pining.

39. a trope you would like to see (more) in the fandom

Oh idk, I don't think I have enough of an overview to really say something I missing, but as a never-fully-recovered former emo kid I'd love to see some more of the stuff the MCR fandom had for example, like idk... vampires obviously, but also ghost stuff or like tragic angsty historical fics or idk. I guess just some dark stuff? For funsies lol.

41. How do you choose the fic you read

Firstly it's gotta be Wilmon-centric, then I look at the word count, and compare that to how much time I have lol, then I read the summary and idk? I guess either the writing style needs to catch me immediately or it needs to be some original premise. Or a retelling of one of my favorite scenes, that also catches me lol. So I guess I just base what I want to read on the summary. Oh, or a trusted mutual/friend recommends it!

46. did you stay awake up to an veeeery unreasonable hour to finish a fanfic

Yeeeeeeep, very much do that, probably too often. Sometimes my eyes will be falling shut, but I tell myself I gotta push through, there's only x chapters left lol

47. WIP or not WIP

Yes WIP!!!! I love WIPs for soooo many reasons, most of all because it's such a fun journey and because the waiting just kind of heightens the excitement for the next chapter!

Send me a fanfic ask

[faeriekit]

Questions for Fic Writers ✏📝💻

@chromatographic tagged me! ...And then I was at work and forgot about it by the time I got to my laptop! Sorry 😅

How many works do you have on Ao3?

My works tab claims the number to be twenty two, but at least one is a screen-reader-friendly duplicate of a Percy Jackson themed Reskin of Kids on Brooms, so it's more like...twenty one. I'd also take off of Blister Pack one-shots because they're tiny but they are one shots and those are technically valid, so...

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

355,110. Thank you, Blister Pack and Trade of Trickery!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Naruto.

...So I what I usually write and what I actually publish to ao3 are pretty different 😅 I've been doing a bunch of dp x dc fics as of late, and one dc x marvel fic, but if left to my own devices, I go back to Star Wars and Naruto and a lot of Naruto, and I have a surprising word count on a Supernatural fic which is odd considering I've never actually finished an episode of the show before.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

No idea! Lemme look:

#5: Dig Three Graves in Apartment 31C. A spooky and classic contender!

#4: The Firstborn Son. My excuse for writing a almost-canon dp x dc fairy story!

#3: The Haunting of Drake Manor. Nice 😎 You may have noticed, but I'm a sucker for baby fic.

#2: You know 'em, you love 'em, it's The Health and Wellbeing of Hybrid Entities! Who doesn't love a dissection recovery fic?

#1: Which leaves, of course, Blister Pack to reign supreme o'er the ao3 account. Who's shocked? Not me.

5. Do you respond to comments?

...there's 1,900 in my inbox right at this moment.

I want to. I love responding to comments. but it's just not feasible in the way I want it to be, and that blows.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Patchwork Memories! I don't think this counts because it was just a snippet, but, you know. Angst for the sake of angst n' all that.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Blister Pack!! Find joy in packing up and getting the fuck out of there! Who needs 'em?? Hit the bricks!!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've received stuff I honestly consider worse than hate, which is people who believe that I should think exactly what they think and write the fic as they believe canon should be interpreted, but here is the funniest exchange I've ever had on any fic ever:

9. Do you write smut fic? If so, what kind?

Once. I will occasionally write stuff for myself, but the reviews on the one posted smut chapter were generally that it was very, very funny. This does not give me much feedback to work off of lmao

10. Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

The answer to both questions are dp x dc and also dp x dc. And that's generally tame as far as crossovers go.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. 👀

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of! 👀 But I'd be way more amenable to that than thievery lmao.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I would never bog someone down with my symptoms disorder. I don't trust me enough to be helpful in any creative endeavor ever

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I don't believe in genuine OTPs, but whatever Desiree!Janet and Bruce have going on in Drake Manor is hysterical to me. I hope they get divorced and then break up and then get back together and then break up again.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I want to finish Trade of Trickery. I think it will take time. But I am determined to do it. We're halfway through the Sea of Monsters and I am delusional enough to think I can make it if I just power through in some distant future

16. What are your writing strengths?

I am the recipient of divine visions which keep me going. The hard part is staying consistent when I lose steam.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I am the recipient of divine visions which keep me going. The hard part is staying consistent when I lose steam.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Google translate is my friend, and I don't necessarily believe in providing translations. There's no irl subtitles. If the characters are meant to understand, I'll leave stuff around to make the context and content clear, but like, no creo que es necesario en todos situaciónes.

19. First Fandom you wrote for?

...Naruto...maybe...? No I'm wrong. It was Fairy Cube. My first divine visions/early fic thoughts were from Tamora Pierce's Song of the Lioness series and my first fandom I actually wrote/published fic for was Fairy Cube. Don't ask what account it was on. I borrowed my friend's ffn account. I don't remember the username anymore.

20. Favorite Fic you’ve written?

....hoo boy. Tie for Quiet Respite and Trade of Trickery. I love Comets and Drake Manor has a special place in my heart, but QR feels uniquely mine in ways that my dp x dc fics sometimes don't, and Trickery really is a love story about Sally Jackson and forgotten Demigod kids. Nothing else hits. Nothing else is the same. It's about collecting what you can in your hands and taking it with you.

@newgraywolf @cyrwrites @mysterycyclone @songue85 Anyone else want to play?

Thanks for asking, Chroma! It only took...what, a week, two weeks, to finally get to it?

[lennsart]

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I got tagged by the talented @lele5429 !

And ooohhh boy. I have. A lot of LU wips. And their titles are rarely serious.

(as a frame of reference for how I name wips, know that A cave like a net was titled "mermay! But it's october" for the LONGEST time in my files, and I literally found the title the day when I posted it)

Most of them are Legend-centric (and whumpy lmao) ! Here they are :

- The pipeline from sweet apple to sour lemon

- Tiny heroes

- The Autism fic

- Obedience

- The Dark™

- This Is Starting To Feel Like Bullying

- Ocarina

- Bitch are u okay

- Modern AU, followed by two other wips because it was getting massive : 'Modern gayness' & 'The modern AU is getting out of control'

- Bullshitting

I actually have more than that, but I have a terrible tendancy to write same stories in different fonts, so here are the most fleshed out and the ones I'd like to talk about !

I'm so sorry but I legit think every people I have interacted with and I know write fics have already been tagged on this 🥲 if anyone is like ">:0 I know you and am writing fics" don't hesitate to tell me in comments ! I love seeing what people do (although I might be slow to get to it) and you can do this ask game if you'd like to ! :D

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Hey! I love your work, and I think you get everything down to Alfie’s language to the fucking t! It’s so fucking good when I can literally hear him in my head while I’m reading! Sidenote—please don’t cut my head off, because I’m *genuinely* trying to understand. I’ve followed you for awhile and I’ve noticed you engaging in the discourse about readers and reblogs, likes, etc., so I thought maybe you would be a good person to try to help me understand why some writers seem to be so upset by some readers liking instead of reblogging. Again, I’m not trying to attack anyone, I promise, but even as a writer myself, I struggle to grasp why it matters so much. Like, of course, comments and/or reblogs with comments make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! It makes my day hearing that someone has loved a thing I’ve put my time and effort into creating, but likes are called “likes” for a reason—to let someone know you liked what they posted. In my head, getting them is another way for people to let me know they enjoyed what I put out. I’m not saying that anyone is, but to me, it comes off a little entitled when people get upset at readers for not explicitly praising their work with comments and such. Yes, the site is free and we’re not getting paid to write fanfics, but nobody owes anyone anything. When I write a thing and post it, I don’t feel like readers are then obligated to give me feedback because putting it online is a decision that *I* made. If they take the time to comment on it, that’s fucking wonderful, but that doesn’t mean that people who don’t do that are in the wrong for using the like button as their way of telling writers “Hey, I like this!” if they’re uncomfortable interacting or don’t have anything specific in mind to say. I’ve seen people talk about just copy/pasting a comment, but I don’t get how having 100 comments that all say “I like this fic!” or whatever is any different than using the button that’s meant to indicate “I like this fic!”. If somebody’s going to say something about my work, I would rather it be because they genuinely wanted to comment, not because they feel obligated to do so. I really hope this doesn’t come off as rude and I’m so sorry if it does. I’m just confused because both interactions mean the same thing—the only difference is that some people are more comfortable sharing their thoughts in depth or socializing online. I don’t know, it sorta feels like some are trying to police what other people do/don’t do with their blogs when we’re all here for the same reason—to fuck around and fuck our favorite characters. (Or daydream about it, unfortunately lmao)

Okay, I will try and explain it for you, nonie.

The reason why we are frustrated over the lack of reblogs is very simple, and if you’ve been following me for a while I’m surprised that you haven’t noted the reason by now.

Essentially, it keeps the fandoms going. It spreads posts around, it gives them visibility since half the time, the tags don’t work (it’s hit and miss at best!) and the algorithms on this site are virtually nonexistent, so having our work shared is a vitally helpful way for us to reach more people.

This isn’t Instagram. The reblog button is there to be used as that’s the very ethos of the tumblr experience; you see something that you enjoy, you like it, you share it. You seem to be forgetting that and solely focusing on commentary, but let’s get to that, shall we?

You’re absolutely right, nobody is obligated to comment, but come on. It’s a tiny exertion of effort to reward an author. It’s interaction, it can help people feel like what they wrote is valued beyond the bare minimum. It’s a tiny expression of gratitude in a world were fast consumption of “content” is now the norm. It also helps people - new writers especially - feel like they’re not shouting into a void. It all also ties in the the community of fandoms, which seems to be dying because of this quick consumption trend.

If you are fine with none of the above happening, with no sense of community in your respective fandom, with people not offering comments - or the more important reblogs - great! But people aren’t wrong for wanting a little more from our audiences, especially when that little more takes seconds to participate in.

I hope that clears things up for you.

[nickeverdeen]

Hey I saw your "nameless characters" masterlist so I thought I'd make a request.

Male (he/him) x female (she/her) smut where they be working on a compulsory school project that's supposed to unite random pairings from the school he's senior and she's sophomore (can be college if you want to but preferably highschool) and they never talked before but by the end of their meetings (multiple times they work on the project) they become friends and then hook up and she gets all awkward after that and avoids him so the presentation is awkward af lmao 😭 but they strat dating after it.

Anyways sorry if this is unclear also I think you may wanna start tagging those works "original characters x reader" and "oc x reader" to reach more audience, just a suggestion :)

Untilted Project | Male!oc x fem!reader

Pairings: oc x reader (romantic)

Type of fic: Smut

Warnings: Sex (a bit badly written)

Summary: You two were supposed to be doing a project, but ended up doing something else…

Ps: I made reader a collage student as in sophomore you’re 15-16 and in senior is 18-19 so that’d be really weird for me - plus I’m not gonna write a smut with a child and thanks for the suggestion, but to be honest I don’t really care about the amount of people who read it

———————

The library was quiet, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional rustle of pages. You glanced up from your laptop as he arrived, his tall frame silhouetted against the doorway. His black backpack hung off one shoulder, and he had the same casual, indifferent air about him that he’d had since the two of you were paired for this project.

He sat down across from you without a word, pulling out his notebook and a pen. You had barely exchanged more than pleasantries since being assigned to each other, despite having worked together for a week.

You cleared your throat, determined to keep things professional. “I outlined some ideas for the presentation,” you said, sliding your laptop toward him. “We need to focus on making it cohesive, so it doesn’t look like two people who never talk threw it together at the last minute.”

He glanced at the screen, smirking slightly. “Isn’t that exactly what this is?”

You rolled your eyes. “It doesn’t have to look like it, though.”

“Fair enough.” His voice was deep and smooth, with a hint of teasing that set you on edge in a way you couldn’t quite place.

The two of you worked for a while in relative silence, occasionally exchanging comments or adjusting each other’s notes. Despite his aloof demeanor, he was sharp and contributed more than you expected. It wasn’t until an hour later, when you both reached for the same pen, that the dynamic shifted.

Your hand brushed against his, and you quickly pulled back, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

He chuckled softly, and when you finally looked up, he was watching you with an unreadable expression. “You’re pretty jumpy for someone who seems to have it all together.”

“I’m not jumpy,” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively.

His smirk widened. “Sure you’re not.”

The meetings continued over the next few weeks, each one blurring the line between professionalism and something else. He teased you mercilessly but in a way that made you laugh despite yourself. You found yourself looking forward to his smirk, the way his eyes would linger on yours just a little too long.

One evening, as you both sat on the floor of the library’s private study room, papers spread around you, the tension reached its breaking point.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” you said, exasperated as he pointed out another tiny mistake in your notes.

“And you’re stubborn,” he replied, leaning back on his hands.

Your retort died on your lips when you noticed how his shirt clung to his chest, the muscles in his arms flexing as he shifted. The air between you seemed to thicken, and you realized you’d been staring when he raised an eyebrow at you.

“What?” he asked, his voice quieter now, his gaze locked on yours.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, looking away.

He didn’t let it go. “You sure about that?”

Before you could answer, he leaned forward, his hand brushing against yours. You froze, your heart pounding as he tilted his head slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

When you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was soft at first but quickly deepened. Your hands found their way to his shoulders as he pulled you closer, his body pressing against yours as the kiss grew more heated.

“Here?” you managed to whisper between kisses, your voice breathless.

“Unless you’d rather stop,” he replied, his lips trailing down your neck in a way that made stopping the last thing on your mind.

The study room’s door locked with a quiet click, and you found yourself pressed against the wall, his hands exploring your body with a mix of urgency and care. He kissed you like he’d been holding back for weeks, and you clung to him, matching his intensity.

His hands slipped under your shirt, lifting it over your head before discarding it to the side. He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over you with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t have time to respond before his lips were on yours again, his hands roaming over your bare skin. You tugged at his shirt, and he quickly shrugged it off, revealing toned muscles and the faintest trail of a tattoo on his shoulder.

As things escalated, you found yourself on the floor, your body arching into his touch as he worked you out of your jeans and underwear. His fingers teased you, drawing soft gasps from your lips before he finally pushed inside, his movements slow and deliberate at first.

“Don’t tease,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He didn’t need to be told twice. His pace quickened, his movements rougher but never crossing the line into too much. His name fell from your lips in breathless moans, each sound spurring him on as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

When you finally tumbled over, your body shuddering with release, he followed soon after, his grip on you tightening as he buried his face in your neck, his breathing ragged.

The aftermath was… awkward. You both dressed in silence, avoiding each other’s gaze. He broke the tension first, leaning casually against the table as he smirked at you.

“So, does this count as team bonding?”

You glared at him, your cheeks burning. “Don’t make this weird.”

“Too late,” he teased, grabbing his backpack. “See you at the presentation.”

You avoided him for the next few days, which only made things worse. When the day of the presentation arrived, you found yourself standing next to him in front of the class, your face redder than it had any right to be.

He, of course, looked perfectly composed, his smirk making it clear that he was enjoying your discomfort.

“Why don’t you start?” he said, his tone light but his eyes gleaming with amusement.

You shot him a glare, but your voice cracked as you began to speak, earning a few confused looks from the audience.

Halfway through, he took over, his confident delivery making it impossible for anyone to suspect anything had happened between you. Still, the occasional brush of his arm against yours sent your heart racing.

When it was finally over, you practically ran out of the classroom, only for him to catch up with you in the hallway.

“You can’t avoid me forever,” he said, stepping in front of you to block your path.

“I can try,” you muttered, though your resolve was already crumbling under the weight of his smirk.

He leaned down, his voice soft but firm. “We should talk.”

You hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine. After class.”

The conversation was awkward but necessary, and by the end of it, you’d agreed to take things slow—whatever things were. But it wasn’t long before slow turned into something much more, and soon enough, he wasn’t just your project partner anymore.

[mutenized]

Red String of Fate

Modern Rockstar Eddie Munson x afab photographer reader!

Not gonna lie to you guys, I was reading this fic (it’s 18+) and got inspiration based off of chapter 6……then I got carried away so I don’t even think I have a word count on this bitch. It’s currently 4 am and as I’m writing this part I’m not even done… so word count? LONG lmao! Thank you dolly for hyping me up

Enjoy!

Tags: fluff fluff fluff! Mutual pining, opposites attract

Also here’s a playlist for this fic! Listen if you’d like, a lot of sad girl pop mixed with pop punk! The series is named after Red String by Sweet Pill!

Fingers danced across your waist as you delve your toes into the soft sand that had cooled drastically due to the rise of the moon and fall of the sun pass the watery horizon. Peace. You were at peace. Any and all wars that currently played within your head, whether you knew it or not, ceased due to the absolute heaven you seemingly ascended to.

Eddie’s arms pulled you from your contemplative state, reminding you of the happiness, the thrill, you were living in. A vacation, together. That was something you never dreamed of happening when you two first met months ago. Yet, the tale of time and chemistry between two people proved to both you and the frizzy haired rockstar that anything could happen.

Eddie’s band, Corroded Coffin, was on a small tour through dive bars and smaller venues throughout the east coast. You had been excited for the Philadelphia date because they were the main band at the small, two-story bar, Johnny Brenda’s, that sat on the corner between the Olde Kensington, Northern Liberties, and Fishtown districts. Bringing along your film camera as well as your digital one as well, you opened your case for the security detail before clambering the tiny stairwell to where the stage was set above the pool tables and larger bar and kitchen that rested at street level. Greeting your friends whom you came to support, you looked to the small table next to theirs where merchandise for the two other openers sat. “Corroded Coffin is a dope ass name!” You hear the drummer, Nick, rattle off to the two young adults who pinned up the rest of the band’s merch on the peg board.

“You think? Eddie and Gareth came up with it themselves between D&D sessions in like, middle school.” The one spoke, a smile on his face and his freckles cheeks making his eyes close. “Yea dude! Y’know Philly has an amazing punk music scene it’s like the origin-“ Nick’s rambling was background noise to you as you hug his girlfriend who just arrived with the last of their band’s shirts. Gem was true to her name, a gem. Guiding you to the small sectioned off area for the photographers, she wanted to make sure security didn’t give you a hard time as they have before.

Setting your case between one of the speakers and the wall, you were too into making sure your camera was properly formatted to notice two figures near you. One on stage on their knees, fiddling with their peddles and wires that ran to the guitar placed on a stand next to the microphone and the other behind you waiting for you to move a hair over to join you in setting up their tech.

“Excuse me, sorry!” The even toned voice didn’t seem angry or bitter as you quickly side stepped to let them beside you. A light brown bob greeted your sights before you saw the angular face and side smile that the voice belonged to. Tapered slacks, a Corroded Coffin shirt, and open vest paired with silver jewelry and a crystal hung on a string were the first things you took in as your eyes gazed from the screen of your camera to the pair of blue eyes looking towards you.

“Hey, you’re (y/n), right?! One, huge fan of your work, like seriously! Two, well, actually. No two. Just be wary that the guys like to grab equipment so you get good shots. I’m Robin, nice to meet you!” A happy yet awkward chuckle left the rambling girl as her ringed fingers expertly secured her lens to the body of her camera and snapping a few shots off the stage.

“Hey! Yes thanks! I’ve seen some of your work and it’s absolutely amazing!” A grin played on your features as Robin went through the three stages of honor; shock, disbelief, and flattery. You both hit it off, chatting haphazardly as the crowd formed behind the metal barricade you rested on and the balcony. Soon enough, lights dimmed and the steady beat of a bass drum filled the room. Screams and cheers followed suit, that was your cue to go into work mode. Forgetting about what was around you, you worked nimbly with Robin to make sure you both got high grade shots and didn’t run into one another.

It wasn’t until the third or fourth song of the set when you went to go switch to your film camera that you noticed the four men on stage in front of you. The frontman instantly got your attention as he donned a pair of ripped skinny jeans and chains, rings, a muscle tank which showed off the opal skin stained with onyx and ruby ink, and a black bandana wrapped around his forehead. The brown-black hair was what struck you, though. Wild and unruly, his curls seemed to make him look even more angelic while if that were anyone else, they’d look like they had no idea to take care of their appearance. He was effortlessly ethereal; put together while also not being put together at all.

Your eyes must have burned a hole into his face because his brown doe eyes caught yours as he roamed the stage before the next song. His stoney, rocker façade seemingly broke for a half-moment as he drank you in before returning to what task was at hand.

Both of you couldn’t deny the intensity that drew both of you in but you found yourself already overthinking like you were getting ready for a date as you photographed the rest of their set.

You see, while your friend’s band was in the pop punk genre, which you enjoyed thoroughly, over time you’ve become drawn to bedroom and indie pop. Phoebe Bridgers, Ethel Cain, The Japanese House, The 1975, just to name a few. Many called it sad girl pop since the songs were catchy and addicting while the message in the lyrics dealt with the heavy reality of life.

So to say you were out of place in a sea of leather and chains was an understatement. Your bell bottom jeans and black ankle boots paired with the babydoll top Gem had made just for you for your birthday that had the band’s logo of a jar of sugar next to a bottle of spilt pills couldn’t stand out even more than it already did. That didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy the music Corroded Coffin was playing but it wasn’t your usual flavor.

With the last song fading, the house lights came back up and you capped your lens after turning the camera off to preserve battery. “Oh my god, (y/n). I have the best photo of you and Eddie staring at one another! Oh dude he’s going to be so embarrassed!” Shoving the camera into your line of sight, your eyes drew to the tiny bright screen. Your lips pressed into a cheeky grin before you peered to Robin through your lashes. “Oh you can’t delete that! Send it to me!” Mischief laced both of your auras, making a deeper connection with the girl who reminded you so much of yourself.

Grabbing your wrist with a playful laugh, Robin guided you away from the security of safety before leading you to the bar where there was the frizzy mass of hair downing a glass of ice water. His side profile was something out of a distant dream you had had years before but that was something you didn’t care about. The same doe eyes that softened when they landed on you found you once more before playful fear filled them as he noticed Robin guiding you towards him.