#taxi driver fanfiction

[onhajoon]

The level of badassery in this playlist knows no bounds. Kim Do Gi is a force of nature, a law unto himself. Conversely, he is a carer, a listener, a friend, and protector of those left behind, but at the end of the day, he is just a man who needs a place to call home.

[idkelly]

Painting

Travis bickle x reader

Summary: 3 encounters lead to 3 words on their minds.

Warnings: none; fluff

FIRST ENCOUNTER

Her knuckles were turning white.

Her grip didn’t soften as she pressed her notebook into her stomach. She stood on the edge of the sidewalk, shivering in her boots. She cursed herself for going out of her comfort zone that day. It was an important day on her calendar, yet at the end, she regretted her outfit. Upon moving here two months prior, she came to the realization that not many people had ‘style’. or at least a pop in what they choose to wear, everyone is so mundane in New York City that it clashes with what actually happens in the shadows.

As she stood there waiting, her mind wandered off to earlier that day. She had officially made it, and her agency is finally letting her step foot onto the field. Back in her hometown, she had worked tremendously for years on end on her craft; art wasn’t easy to master, or at least memorable art. Now that she's achieved what she’s been wanting, her work is recognized and in high demand.

But that was all on paper; she, on the other hand, wasn’t. She felt as if she were a ghost roaming around, creating what people thought were the most breathtaking paintings ever. At the back of her mind, an encounter a few months ago had stuck with her. She heard a higher-up phone call about the upcoming sales, and the topic switched to the products. Then he rambled on and on about how her paintings are basically Renaissance-made today. She was never much of a talker, yet she mustered up the courage to go up and talk to him, though his confused gaze threw her off.

"Uh, who are you exactly?"

It was fate; it had followed her everywhere. Sometimes she thinks that it’s because she was bland, basic, ordinary, and vanilla. But those thoughts left as soon as they came; she knew she wasn’t any of that. She was someone’s cup of tea for sure—not the vast majority thought so—and she was okay with it. Most of the time, she was alone, yet she never felt lonely.

Her cowboy boots were killer, red and bright, but so was the blood running down the back of her ankles; it was the first time she wore them. but she didn’t think it would mean a miserable way back home. Someone was supposed to pick her up, but guessing by the time they'd probably forgotten, she didn’t have anywhere near to go; her apartment was almost an hour away, and she hadn't seen a cab in a long while.

Behind her, illuminatingly, was a night café. Shaking her purse, she guessed she had enough money for some coffee and waffles.

She sat on the bar stool; she always liked it better than the regular seats; it was taller and bigger, almost like she was on top of the world. She liked the little stuff like this; it seemed silly to an outsider, but at least she’s having fun on her own, especially facing the window and looking at whoever walks by. A few minutes later, the waiter brought her food. She kicked off her boots to rest her feet a bit. It was going to be a long walk home.

She sat her bag on her lap and pulled out her small sketchbook. As if on cue, she noticed small rain drops clinging to the window before her; it added to the atmosphere, making her smile to herself. In her ear buds, killing me softly by fugees played, and her head swayed with the rhythm.

Half an hour passes as she’s lost in her sketchbook, her pencil dancing along the page, creating another beautiful portrait. That was her specialty. Her train of thought stops for a second when she notices someone sitting at the end of her row. Her head turns around, and she realizes that the place is basically full.

She glanced beside her at the figure; it was a guy in a green jacket and some jeans; he seemed to have ordered a coffee and some waffles; he had a mole on the side of his face. She didn’t spend much time staring at the man; it was rude. She just went back to drawing. but out of the corner of her eye, she saw what shoes he was wearing. cowboy boots.

"Cowboy boots!" It slipped out of her mouth before she could think.

The man looked startled. He looked at her, then turned his head behind him, making sure she was talking to him. His eyebrows rose as he looked at her confusedly. "Huh?"

She smiled, a bit embarrassed. I'm sorry, I meant—your boots! Cowboy boots, I like ‘em."

Her eyes never left his; they were dark, almost black, yet pretty. He hadn’t spoken a word yet, but he was smiling now.

"These are mine," she pointed to the pair that’s beneath her. I had to take them off because my feet were all bloody. She laughed, not taking it seriously at all. He looked at them and smiled, saying, "Hey, they’re just like mine, just in a different color."

She looked closer, and he could see her eyes light up at the realization. "we’re matching!"

"matching?"

"Yeah, matching"

A moment of silence passed, not an awkward one, though; they were both staring at each other, smiling a bit, her eyes drifting to his plate, then back to him.

"We don’t have matching taste buds, though; I hate waffles. This surprised him, making him chuckle and take a sip of his coffee. He wasn’t used to this; he didn’t know how to act when people approached him. Whenever he responds, he usually says the wrong thing, ruining the encounter. He didn’t respond to her; he simply didn’t know what to say. It felt like her eyes burned holes through his side, but soon enough she went back to her small book.

Her legs were crossed, and her black skirt hiked up to her mid-thigh because of her position. She wore a colorful dress shirt that was predominantly red, matching her boots. Her hair rested on her shoulder. A few pieces kept falling in front of her face, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Staring is rude, you know. "His head whipped straight back. She laughed; it was almost contagious, creeping on his lips. He mumbled an apology.

"What’re you writing?"

“I'm not writing, I'm drawing."

"oh"

She seemed focused now, unlike a few seconds ago, when she was pushing him to have a conversation. He felt a bit blue, but once he mustered up the courage to talk to her, she was over it. After the incident last year, Travis has been more weary of how he talks with other people, though that didn’t stop the screw-ups from time to time. He now understands how to read the room.

He was already done with his food; the coffee turned out to be bitter, so he barely touched it. As he got up and put on his jacket, he heard her.

"Wait, where’re you going?"

“Uh, I finished my food; I'm going home. Why?"

“Just," she started scribbling faster on her paper without looking at him, "sit down for a few more minutes, ‘kay?"

He stood still for a few seconds before agreeing to the request. He looked around the place; everyone had left by this point. Subconsciously, he yawns. He never feels sleepy, but he could feel his eyelids getting heavier by the second. She spares him a glance, smirking.

"Don’t fall asleep on me, alright? Here—ya go, take this." She handed him her right earbud between her slender fingers, and suddenly Travis took hold of it. They were sharing earbuds.

"Just two cowboys listening to music."

"You’re a cowgirl, not a cowboy."

"Saying cowboys is much easier than saying cow enthusiasts," they laughed.

She stayed quiet for a while, then suddenly stood up with her book in hand. The earbud fell out of her ear, and her face displayed an ear-to-ear smile. He had never seen someone smile this much in this city.

"It's done!" "Here you go. She ripped a piece of paper and handed it to him. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name."

"I'm Travis, he said, looking down at the paper in his hand, absolutely stunned. She could tell he almost lost control of his face as his mouth hung open.

"Well, Travis, you might want to close your mouth, or a fly might fly in there." She was getting her boots on with a bag over her shoulder with all of her belongings in it.

Travis was flabbergasted as he looked at the drawing of himself; it was almost like someone had taken a black and white photo of him, but she barely looked at him while drawing. How did she do this? She saw him. She’d seen him. The man’s hands started to shake a bit. He composed himself and looked up at her figure; she was smiling, as she always had. Words couldn’t leave his mouth once again. Don’t say the wrong thing. Don’t say the wrong thing. Don’t say the wrong thing.

"Well, if you didn’t like it, it's completely fine; don’t sweat it."

"No! No, I, uh, do like it; I'm just, uh, surprised, that’s all. Thank you." He didn’t catch her name, but she chuckled and told him. He made a mental note that she wasn’t from here; it was the first time he heard a name like

"Now it’s time for me to go, Travis. See you around, yeah?"

Yeah, he breathed.

As she walked towards the door, his eyes couldn’t stop following him, but he raised a brow once she stood dead in her tracks, turned around, and headed towards him again.

"Did you forget something?

She kissed his forehead and went away, like it was nothing. Travis wasn’t sleepy anymore; his mind was working full force, and he was only thinking of one thing: the way her lips felt on his skin.

[epicwingman]

Withered Roses: Steven Rudboys

Steven Rudboys is a talented pilot who works in the U.S. military and a main/secondary character in How to Bake a Loaf of Bread. When he isn't showing off to his friends, he's drinking too much alcohol for his own good or spending some time with his father. Nacha moving in doesn't affect Steven at all, but him and Walter don't exactly get along.

Steven is probably one of the better written characters overall. He doesn't really do much in the first book, just drinks, fights and has an ego that can be seen from miles away, but the next 3 books will focus on him more and I've just loved writing and developing his character!

Nacho is releasing little sneak peeks constantly! I love the fact that it's getting a Steam release honestly. I also can't wait to see what this whole character creator thing is that Nacho has planned! I don't have any main OCs for TNMN (there's 3 for Withered Roses but I don't have specific designs for these characters... they're just all sort of there) but it'll be cool to play around with this!

[gaspanicwrites]

‘Just another no account fatality’ by gaspanic on ao3

Pairing: Travis Bickle/Arthur Kirkland

Fandom(s): Taxi Driver (1976), …And Justice for All (1979)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 6.1K

Summary:

In the aftermath of the Fleming trial, Arthur Kirkland is suspended from the practice of law and bumps into a former client.

Happy June 29th!

Got hooked onto 70s Al Pacino and Robert De Niro and it led to this… Might be a crack pairing but the fic ain’t so give it a go if you’re interested!

girlies pls understand 70s al pacino has got me by the metaphorical balls im in so deep this is a whole PHASE

[29625]

Here’s a confession; I’m seeing Slider as a femme (homme?) fatale and I’m always imagining Slimav in some sort of classic Film Noir settings where Mav (sometimes Ice, too) becomes slowly obsessed with Sli, who is all hot n mysterious and witty like a true princess he is.

What if I told you…Slimav but Taxi Driver. Or Slimav/Slice but Blade Runner. Or Night Moves in which all three of the love interests are Sli because why the hell not fuck around with the idea of dilf Sli.

What do you think?

[currentlylivingonaprayer]

my wip

@zenithsky tagged me.

(if you read this, I will read the last few updates of diaryus I've missed in the next few days, sorry)

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! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

WIP

• call it love and devotion (kentakim/pitbabe)

• kinnporsche the series mermaid au inspired by @thatgothsamurai

• good omens hospital au

• taxidriver kdrama one shot

• vegaspete spin off to my kimchay ff

(I'm only actively working on the first two, but when I have the time I will sit down and maybe write some of the others)

Tagging @ae-azile , @liesineyes , @zoinkssc00b , @shou-jpeg , @le-trash-prince and everybody else, who wants to participate :)

(To the people I've tagged, you don't have to participate, if you don't want to)

Ask box is open

[shesarainbow]

What was I made for? | Taxi Driver (1976)

TW: trauma bonding, emotional abuse, gaslighting, etc...

🎶 I used to float, now I just fall down. I used to know, but I’m not sure now what I was made for. What was I made for? 🎶

Iris clings to him like a lifeline in the midst of the storm. She’s nearly forgotten how good it feels to be touched by him again. She buries her head in his strong arms in a protective, comforting embrace.

Oh, how lovely it feels to be held, and how safe it makes her feel. She needs him so much right now; she craves him with all her being and can’t help it.

It only takes a hug, and everything falls into place. All of her doubts and insecurities fall to the floor. She’s no longer tense.

Travis was wrong. How could he say those things? He has been so mean with all those implications about Sport. He doesn’t know him like she does.

Sport is not a cruel man; he can’t be like this, and this proves it. He merely wants to take care of her and keep her safe.

Travis was wrong; now she’s really sure of it.

Sport cradles her and strokes her blonde hair as she lets herself go into his arms, which make her feel at home—not the home she left, but the one she found in New York.

Sport is her safe haven to return to, the only place to be, where she can finally be herself and be loved.

Music fills the room, and they continue slow dancing.

“I depend on you” Sport says.

Is this love? Iris wonders.

“I’ll be lost without you” he continues.

Is this what everybody’s talking about? Could it really be love?

“I am a lucky man.”

Is this how you feel when someone actually loves you? Iris keeps asking herself.

Yes, her heart answers. No, says the brain.

“I need you so much, Iris. Don’t forget that.”

Iris closes her eyes and lets him guide her, take care of her and make her feel loved.

No, Travis was wrong. He knows nothing about love.

[l0vergrlll]

: ̗̀ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Inspo: Care by Sonder (good song, I <3 Sonder)

Summary: You come home on a Friday evening after a rough week of work, excited to finally have some time alone with your boyfriend, who plans on taking good care of you tonight.

Warnings: established relationship, bathing together, fluff, suggestive, no actual smut, just cuteness hehehe

Note: this is my first fanfiction EVER!! It's not the best but not the worst ig. I also wrote it at like 2am lol. Enjoy!

It's been raining relentlessly this evening, and it seemed to show no signs of coming to an end any time soon. You don’t mind it, though. Frankly, you found the rain rather peaceful. You thought it was nature’s way of quieting the rest of the world’s unwavering commotion with its own serene ambience. The pleasant pitter-pattering of droplets against the car window served as a calm, subdued white noise for you as you rested your forehead against the cool glass. Your eyes subconsciously followed each passing car, each person scrambling in the downpour, eager to get home. You were itching to get back to the apartment as well, taking glances at the taxi driver’s GPS up front to get an idea of how much time remained. You relaxed back into the backseat, sighing as you returned your attention to the outside world, observing the cohorts of people flooding out of the revolving doors of various high rise buildings. 

It was definitely a taxing work week to say the least. You were overcome with relief as you let the idea of the oncoming weekend embrace you in a welcoming hug. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at the thought of what was waiting for you back home. A chance to unwind, treat yourself, and indulge in the warm comforts of your weekend hobbies and activities. But what excited you most was the idea of him. 

The week had been a rigorous, almost never-ending series of projects, meetings, and all-nighters. And you were painfully aware of the lack of quality time spent with Matt. Even though you couldn’t help your harsh schedule, and he was endlessly understanding, you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt which weighed on your heart. After a week of dull, rushed conversations with him as you were scrambling to get out of the door on time for work, you were experiencing what almost felt like withdrawals. When was the last time you allowed yourself to lay in his strong arms, comfortable in his secure embrace? When did you last feel the shivering sensation crawl up your spine and the warming of your cheeks as he whispered into your ears, his lips grazing your earlobe with every word? You craved the grit of his voice blessing your ears as he spoke to you, the way your heart fluttered as his pale blue eyes pierced into your own, slightly squinting as he spoke. The way you gasped and muffled your moans with the back of your hand as your back arched to his rhythmic, unforgiving thrusts. The way tears would fall down the sides of your face as you couldn’t contain your pleasurable screams, digging your nails into his biceps as he edged you closer to your climax, whilst simultaneously groaning in your ear. Close was never close enough. You missed that unyielding need for each other. 

Finally, the driver parked parallel to the entrance of your apartment building. You were swift to exit the car, thanking him in the process. The rain showed no mercy, prompting you to run inside the building whilst holding a hand above your head as a pathetic form of coverage. Once inside, you called for the elevator with the click of a button, squirming uneasily in your damp work clothes. You felt giddy with anticipation, undoubtedly excited to see Matt, to jump into his arms and inhale his scent. At long last, you were on your floor and facing your apartment door, fiddling in your purse for the keys. You tutted in annoyance as you struggled to dig them out in the jungle of items stuffed in your purse. 

You audibly groan with frustration, about to dump the entirety of the contents inside when you hear the door click. You look up to see it open fully, Matt looking down at you with disheveled hair and an almost childish grin of pure excitement. He leaned against the door frame, wearing a black long sleeve and gray sweats which were untied, loosely hanging low on his waist and revealing the brim of his boxers. You couldn’t help but return the smile, and laugh as he pulled you in by the arm, wrapping his own around your waist and burying his head in your damp hair. 

“God, remind me to clean out my purse, please,” you remarked, smiling as you snuggled your face into his chest, your hands gripping onto his shirt. 

Matt laughed silently as he pushed you away slightly, now able to look at you. 

“I’m glad you're home, baby. You have no idea how much I’ve been missing you,” He spoke softly, and god was the gruff sound of his voice elating. You smiled at him, and took his hand in yours as the two of you wandered into the kitchen, the smell of food engulfing your senses. 

“I think I might, Matty. I’ve really been missing you too. Thank God it’s finally Friday,” You exhaled with relief once again. Matt’s arms snaked around your body from behind you, and he pressed himself against your back. He’s taller than you, able to rest his jaw upon your head as you leaned back into him. You rested your head slightly on his shoulder as you looked up at him, really taking in the sight. Your handsome boyfriend, adorned by a freshly shaven complexion. You traced his sharp jawline with your finger, moving it upwards as you gently carved out the outline of his cheekbones. A smile crept across his face as he looked down at you. His arms tightened their hold around you and he lowered his head into your neck, inhaling deeply. 

“So I made you dinner…” He spoke softly, bringing his hands up from around your waist and onto your shoulder, gently pressing his fingers expertly as he massaged them. You exhale with your mouth open, clearly needing the relief of tension. He continued, “...But I think what you really need is a nice hot bath. What do you think, sweetheart?” His voice lowered, almost into a whisper as he spoke dangerously close to your ear. He continued to rub your shoulders, awaiting your response. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’d love a bath right now,” You turned slightly to face him.

“I thought you might, so I have one ready for you,” He smiled, his eyes squinting at the corners as he did so. You melted at the sight every time, never able to get enough of that pretty face. 

“Wow, you seem really proud of yourself,” You joked. He chuckled lightly, and suddenly moved away from behind you, taking your hand in his. He tugged you in the direction of the bathroom. Your smile never faded, your cheeks and ears warming at his sheer thoughtfulness. Upon entering the bathroom, he closed the door gently behind the two of you.

“You know I care about you, more than anything. Let me show you tonight just how much I do,” He dropped your hand as he spoke and walked over to the bathtub, lowering a hand into the water to check if the temperature was right. You noticed the thick layer of foamy bubbles sitting on top of the water. You breathed in, a strong aroma lingering in the room. It was eucalyptus, your favorite, meaning Matt used your favorite aromatic bubble bath. Two candles were lit, sitting on the corner of the tub. Matt had hung up two bathrobes upon the hooks which hung from the back of the bathroom door. Everything was laid out for you, your favorite body scrubs, creams, and hair care items. 

Matt smiled, pleased at himself as he watched you beam appreciatively at his efforts. 

“Hop in, beautiful,” He spoke as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his bare torso. You stare with your mouth open at his nude upper body, admiring the slight curvature of his toned muscles. The way they descended into his v-line, lined down the center with a little hair. You watched as he slid his sweats down with his thumbs. He smirked playfully at your anticipation for his boxers to come off next, and instead of rewarding you with that display, he walked up to you and lifted the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head as you obediently lifted your arms in an effort to help. 

He whispered almost to himself, “Let me take care of you tonight..” repeating the promise he had previously mentioned. You let him pull your pants down, dragging your underwear down with them as you lifted each leg for him to fully remove the garments. You held onto his hair as he did so, and you smiled to yourself, unable to prevent the heat of blush which tainted your cheeks at the intimacy of it all. Once your bottoms were off, he ascended back up and moved onto the clasp of your bra, expertly unclipping it and slipping the fabric off forwards. Your breasts relaxed, perking upwards with taut nipples as he removed it, and you watched as his eyes observed them hungrily. He stepped back for a moment, appreciating the art in front of him. He sucked his bottom lip as he examined the beauty of your nudity. You laughed, and his gaze then lifted to your own. He leaned in, suddenly removing any space between you two.

“I haven’t even kissed those pretty lips yet,” He whispered, followed by his lips softly landing on yours. You brought your hands up around his neck as you hungrily moved your mouth against his, your body buzzing as his lips closed around yours repeatedly. He pulled away, and took your hand again, leading you to the tub. He let you keep holding his hand as you stepped into the tub, the hot water initially shocking your skin, making it deliciously difficult to delve the rest of your body within the water. You sighed as you lowered yourself, the comfort of the heat engulfing you. 

“Oh yeah… I really needed this,” You spoke breathily, your body relaxing. It’s clear that your body was wound up, and in desperate need for this physical consolation. You watched matt lower his boxers, revealing his large manhood. You bit your lip slightly at the sight, smirking as he maintained eye contact with you in the act. He flashed you with one of his signature sexy grins, and took his turn entering the tub. He groaned quietly at the shock of the heat, slowly lowering himself until he was opposite to you, his long legs meeting yours as his knees remained visible and bent above the water. For a while, the two of you remained in comfortable silence, staring at each other. You let the warmth cloud your conscience, freeing your mind of the unbreakable stress of the work week. Simply being with Matt at all was enough to ease your turmoil. But when the two of you took part in rare intimacies like this, just naked and in each other’s presence, you felt as if he was your haven, as if he was the physical embodiment of comfort and safety. 

He was still staring at you, the humidity causing his soft brown hair to flatten a bit, ever so slightly damp at the very edges. His alluring eyes devoured your physical being, his unbroken eye contact causing your heart to flutter. 

“What?” You asked shyly, slightly lowering further into the water as a way of hiding your vulnerability from his intimidating gaze.

“Come here,” He said with a smirk, holding out his strong, veiny arm in invitation. You crawled over to him in the water, careful to refrain from splashing outside the confines of the tub. As you made your way to his body, you turned your own so that your back faced him. He then wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in so your bare body is pressed against his. You giggled as you felt his hard dick prod at your lower back, but stayed leaning into him. This kind of closeness drove you crazy. You just wanted to bask in his comfort forever. You wanted to stay this way, naked and in eachothers arms, for it was the two of you in your most vulnerable state. The idea of it warmed your heart. And Matt felt equally as appreciative. The kind of love the two of you had, was a love which seemed to transcend the meaning of love itself. It felt as if you two were bound at the soul. It wasn’t only your bodies pressed against each other, but also your hearts, making love, entwined with one another and refusing to detach. 

“I need you like I need oxygen. Is that crazy to say?” He spoke suddenly, and then chased the lingering words with passionate kisses on your neck. You loved when he randomly spoke his mind, saying the most romantic things sometimes. He tightened his hold, wanting to pull you in beyond what was physically possible. You moaned softly at his hungry kisses, which slowly escalated into nibbles and sucking, leaving signature spots in the areas in which you loved for his mouth to be, and he loved to remain. 

“Of course it’s not crazy, baby.” You responded, your voice soft and flirtatious as he continued to kiss down your neck, his hips ever so slightly bucking upwards into your back. His hardness pressed against you, revealing his pure desire. 

“In fact, I think I need you more than that. I mean, what would I ever do without you?” You continued, bringing a hand up to wrap around his neck. “You take such good care of me, Matty. Thank you for this.”

“You're welcome, pretty girl. I love everything about you, care about everything you do,” He spoke into your neck. Without looking away from you, he palmed the shaving cream that was sitting on the other side of the tub, and with the same hand grabbed your razor which was sitting beside it. He lifted his head from neck and smiled as he gazed into your eyes. He brought the arm that was still around your waist up and held your tit, massaging it slightly to both of your pleasure. You giggled,  followed by a satisfied moan as he played with your nipple.

“Whatcha gonna do with that?” You gave him a quizzical look as he squirted some shaving cream into his hand. He gave you a light nudge back towards the other end of the tub.

“Can you move back to the other side and lift your leg up for me?” He smiled as the question left his lips. He had a way of asking questions like that with such a ravishing tone, his words alone made you want to moan in pleasure. Naturally, you obeyed, moving back to the other end of the tub and facing him again. You lifted your leg out of the water and he gripped it firmly, bringing your foot up to rest on his shoulder. He placed the cool white product on your leg, and began gently rubbing it so that it emulsified, covering the entirety of your shin. He did so while looking at you with lust tainting his eyes, accompanied with a tantalizing smirk. You watched him intently, fascinated by the way his hands roamed the surface of your skin, the muscles on his arms contracting slightly as he moved. His touch, his large hand holding your leg, it made your skin buzz with excitement. You were obsessed with the way he caressed you with such longing, as if he couldn’t survive without your touch, your warmth.

He let the hand covered in shaving cream drop into the water, rinsing it off. Then he picked up the razor and positioned it right at your ankle, close to his face. He slowly set the razor down onto your skin, and gently moved it up your leg while maintaining the slight pressure upon your skin. He moved his gaze from the razor to your face repeatedly, watching your reaction as he attentively shaved your leg. Something about the activity was so feverishly romantic. The way he maneuvered the razor with such care as to not leave behind any cuts or bumps. He went slow, and smiled at you yet again as you let your head lull to the side slightly, letting him groom you, take care of you. 

“How is it?” He asked, as if performing an act of intimacy out of which you had to be satisfied. Which for the two of you, it was, as he shaved your leg with precision, his breath tickling your feet from time to time as he worked. 

“You’re perfect,” You say. It was the only conclusion you were able to come to during the whole thing. He was simply perfect. He chuckled, lifting the razor as he did so as to not accidentally cut you.

“Well..” He trailed off, returning his attention to the job at hand. His other hand remained resting on the side of your ankle, his thumb moving up and down, gently rubbing your skin. He suddenly brought his lips to the skin on your inner ankle, placing a gentle peck of a kiss. He then brought his attention back to your face, pure passion projecting from his gaze. His lips were upturned in a tiny smile as he spoke.

“You know I care.”

...

a/n: smutty part 2??? maybe???

[di-42]

2024 fic roundup

Finally getting round to doing this! Just in time for the end of the year!

Many, many thanks to @curiouspupsicle and @bellisima-writes for tagging me all those weeks ago, ant to @cheeseplants for creating the questions. Enjoy curious's answers here, bellisima's answers here, cheeseplants's answers here.

What fandoms do you write in?

Good Omens, only Good Omens, nothing but Good Omens.

How many words have you published in 2024?

133k. Huh! Me?

What is your greatest achievement this year?

In the context of fandom and fanfiction, being brave enough to put myself out there and share my work is probably my greatest personal achievement. But I'm also quite proud to have plotted an 85k fiction while working 55 hours a week (and being lucky enough to have a husband and friends to spend my free time with).

What are your favourite top three fics you wrote this year?

That's an easy one! None of my favourite three are the ones with more engagement, strangely enough!

And I Did, rated E, 85k.

While I know this could have been written much better, I am incredibly proud of this fiction. It's whole season 3 fiction where I managed to pour all my headcanon in a way that hopefully doesn't feel too forced. I think it has an original plot, good side characters and tension. I tried to throw in some humour wherever possible as well. It features Supreme Archangel Aziraphale and Grand Duke of Hell Crowley. They haven't talked for almost two years. The end of the world is approaching. They are on opposite sides. And they both know neither of them was ever going to make a different choice to the one they made.

Only Ever Meant For Someone Else, rated T, 9k.

My first human AU, wheee! It was so much fun to write! I think writing human AUs allows so much freedom, although one shots and shorter stories can be a bit harder than canon compliant short stories. But I had a chance to explore some versions of the characters that I don't really see in canon, but very much enjoy in fictions, and wanted to try my hand at that. And I liked the result! Written for the Scribbling Vaguely Downwards advent calendar.

Every year, the night before Christmas, taxi driver Aziraphale drives passengers to and from the hospital for charity. On the Christmas morning of 2023 he was ready to go home and rest with a cup of tea, a mince pie, and a book after a long night.

Guess who?

“No, you may not!” Barked the other. Then he started pacing up and down the pavement, rambling to himself. “Anathema’s going to kill me. She’s actually going to kill me! She had to go into labour on fucking Christmas day, just my luck!”

Oh, dear.

“In-into labour?”

The stranger stopped pacing and, yet again, looked at Aziraphale sternly. He joined together the tips of his right thumb and forefinger, and punctuated his next words with a gracious movement of his hand.

“Yeah. It means she’s about to give birth.”

“Does it, now.”

Angel! Angel! They're At It Again! rated M, 5k

I really love this little story of mine. I've been told that it made some readers cry and laugh at the same time, and it doesn't get much better than that.

It's the year 2030. The world never ended. Aziraphale and Crowley are living happily and safely together as a married couple. Everything would be well, if it wasn't that lately Aziraphale has been a bit busy. A bit distracted. Now, Crowley can't have that, can he? He seeks the advice of his girlfriends, who unwittingly give him an idea on how to liven up his marriage.

A fluffy story about how we get to a certain cottage.

What was your biggest pit of despair moment?

Tying up all the loose ends in And I Did. Sometimes it felt like I was just hitting a wall and I couldn't possibly ever go through. I felt so embarrassed -mortified, really- that some people had read the story up to a certain point and I had just to let them down, because I couldn't possibly write anything that would make sense with the rest of the story. Even though the main points were planned from the beginning, there were still all those little details that write themselves, basically, and I had no idea what to do with some of them towards the end. I still don't know how I managed to pull it off, honestly, but somehow I did it in a way that I found satisfying enough.

What have you learned?

That people are so much better than I am. Really. And I don't mean at writing fiction. Well, people are better than me at writing fiction, but that's not what I mean here. The amount of people who are ready to read about someone else's ideas and headcanons with an open mind, enjoy stories that they don't necessarily agree with, is astounding. I have very much to learn from this community.

What fic did you want to do but never made it off the ground?

I could tell you. But then I would have to erase your memory.

A fiction that has never made it off the ground is a fiction that has yet to make it off the ground.

Did you beta any fics? Any favs you want to shout out?

I was asked a couple of times, but due partly to my lack of time, partly to English not being my first language, I had to reluctantly decline. I do offer my thoughts on my betas' fictions, though. One of them hasn't published her work yet, and the other has a fantastic one shot on Ao3, called The Corset.

Aziraphale never understood just why he had been issued with a body likes his. He was the Guardian of the Eastgate, after all! So when in the 17th century corsets for men were fashionable again, he had an idea ...

What three fics have you read this year that you love?

Hah! We both know it's not going to be only three, don't we?

Some of these fics were written before, some long before, 2024, but I only read them this year. It's quite hard to pick my favourites among so much talent and creativity, but I'll do my best. I also can't help but notice that my all time favourites are not among the superpopular ones, so please don't be shy and check them out! (And leave kudos and comments!)

The Beginning Of The End (Again), rated M, 78k.

Season 3 fiction full of plot, great characterisation, humour and pining. It has of course a happy ending. It is beyond me how this fic didn't get more engagement, especially when it first came out, closer to the end of season 2.

The Anon Before Christmas, rated E, 66k.

One of my favourite human AUs. The characterisation is spot on and the slow burn is just absolutely perfect. But I did love the whole array of characters surrounding Crowley and Aziraphale. I love how this story is as much about friendship and chosen family than it is about love and romance.

The Bookseller And The Garden, rated T, 13k.

Canon divergent fiction where Crowley is a demon stationed on earth, Aziraphale is an angel stationed on earth, but they have never met until present day. There's no end of the world in sight, only an angel and a demon falling in love and not knowing how to break it to the other that they're not human. I laughed all the way through.

Wrong Turn, rated T, 37k.

Honestly, I don't know why this fiction touched me so much. I just couldn't stop thinking about it for days after I finished it. It's a post season 1 fiction where Crowley suddenly finds himself in a parallel universe at the time the apocalypse is just about to happen. The Crowley and Aziraphale in that universe have a different history to our Crowley and Aziraphale. All our Crowley wants to do is to go back to his universe and his very own angel, but how? As you follow the main plot and focus on Crowley's thoughts and actions, you'll start slowly feeling the other story get hold of you, and it won't let go until the very end and beyond.

Happiness, More Or Less, rated M, 21k

This human AU moved me so very much I cried. Crowley moves into his new flat in Soho, only to discover the flat in haunted by the ghost of the owner of the bookshop downstairs. I won't tell anything else about the plot other than it does have a very sweet happy ending, and it gets there via a rollercoaster of emotions. This is really one of those fictions that leave me in awe of the fandom's talent and creativity. Read it, read it, read it!

One last one that I haven't finished reading yet, but I know it's one of my all time favourites, is The Last Angel, rated E, 162k.

Canon divergent fiction where Crowley and Aziraphale were never assigned to earth, Armageddon happened and hell won the war. I've said many things about this fiction, among which that I can't believe the writer does this in her spare time and writing is not actually her job, and this is the most Good Omens-y fic I have ever read. It's astoundingly good.

What ideas are percolating for next year?

Watch out for The Angel Horror Show! When I learned that Peter Hinwood, the actor who played Rocky in The Rocky Horror Picture Show didn't have a long career as an actor, bout instead went on to become an antiques dealer, I knew I had to write this fiction with Aziraphale as the actor who many years ago played Angel/Rocky in The Angel Horror Show and subsequent film The Angel Horror Picture Show and is now living a comfortable life as a book and antiques dealer, and Crowley as the actor who played Demon/Frank, and went on to become a successful movie and theatre actor and director. I've just started writing it and I'm extremely excited about it!

Who do you want to thank?

Without the shadow of a doubt @sabine-smitten-obviously and IneffableShortCake who have been so incredibly generous with their time and support in the past 8 months! But also everyone who's ever left me a comment making me feel like my stories were liked, from the long comments to the ones with just enthusiastic syllables, from the incredibly witty ones to the more personal ones, thank you, thank you, thank you!

Tag, answer any Qs that suit and play along!

I think because I'm so late in the game that most of the writers I would usually tag have already been tagged by someone else, but perhaps a few haven't done this yet.

@smua70 @ngk-668 @ineffable-duck7

And anyone who wants to answer!

This was fun!

[emkayewrites]

A snippet from my Lukola fanfiction: steamy edition! TW for smut~

13th July 2023 – London (UK)

Luke Newton: How far away are you?

A smile stretched across Nicola’s face as she typed out a reply on her mobile phone.

Nicola Coughlan: I’m sending you my live location.

The response was instant.

Luke Newton: It’s not as fun as you trying to tell me where you are and failing.

Nicola Coughlan: I’m doing my best!

Luke Newton: You’re nowhere near Canary Wharf.

Nicola Coughlan: My head barely reaches up to the window.

Nicola Coughlan: Did I mention I’m very small?

Luke Newton: Being short can’t be an excuse for everything.

Nicola giggled out loud at his response and then remembered where she was.  She looked self-consciously at the front seat of the car she was in.  The middle-aged taxi driver was staring straight ahead, his eyes bloodshot, and his face slightly weary.  He gave no indication that he had noticed her sudden giddiness. 

God, was she giddy.

Her life felt like it had never been better.

The last few weeks had allowed her to finally be in the same city as Luke and they had taken every opportunity possible to be together, usually at her apartment or his.  This had also been an incredibly busy time for both, and they had been pivotal cheerleaders for one another as they went through career milestones.  When Luke was invited to Wimbledon for the first time as a guest of GQ, he had responded in true Luke fashion: with joy at being acknowledged but also severe anxiety at the whole idea of being a fashion object of some sort.  She was fast learning how much he loved being an actor but how much he equally struggled with just being Luke at these events – being most comfortable when he could disappear into a role.  She had reminded him how only a year ago, he had teased her about her own Wimbledon appearances and now here he was – being a fashion icon at a top British sporting event.  She found the way he blushed in response to her praise endearing.   She loved how quick he was to remind her that she was invited to several Wimbledon events this year and was constantly being revered in the fashion pages for her style – she loved this not because she wanted him to admire her but because it demonstrated how humble he was.  He never wanted the spotlight for too long, and he was all too happy to cast it back on her. 

In their personal lives, they had not been shy about demonstrating their affections for each other around people they knew.  She attended the wrap party for The Shape of Things as his date; they had walked in together and then spent most of the night pressed up against the side of the bar, not-so-discreetly making out, much to everyone else’s amusement.  They had decided they did not want to nor feel the need to be more public, with both agreeing not to post anything on their respective social media accounts or to discuss their relationship in the press.  They knew that at some point, talking about each other would be inevitable but they were keen to keep as much of their relationship for themselves for as long as possible.

Nicola thought about how she had never felt so good in herself.  She was in the city of her dreams, with a burgeoning career, and with a boyfriend with his own successes, and they were both aligned in their core values.  They just seemed to fit.

How the hell does it get better than this?

Some days, she worried about whether she was peaking too soon – in both her career and love.  She dismissed these thoughts quickly, and usually on that kind of day, there was something consuming on her schedule that distracted her from the fears.

It was this kind of high that Nicola was riding as she sat in the back of the taxi, watching London landmarks whizz past her.  When she looked down at her outfit or caught a glance of her reflection in the wing mirror, she really wanted to pinch herself.

She was dressed in an outfit that she could only describe as being from her literal dreams.  The true credit had to go to Aimee, but Nicola could not help but to admit that she was the one who made the dress look damn good.  She was in a silver corseted gown that was covered all over with Swarovski glass crystals.  Off-setting the shimmering outfit were her freshly dyed red locks which were beautifully styled into soft curls that framed her face, and her make-up was doll-like but subtle, with soft pink lips and light pink contouring.  She felt good.

Only hours before, she had walked onto a bright pink carpet to flash bulbs, screaming fans and an endless litany of famous faces at the London premiere of Barbie.  It was a film that had hype - it was breaking records in the worldwide box office as well as shaping popular culture.  She had negotiated interviewers and photographers, and she had become keenly aware how much attention she was getting.  Even further validation had come in the form of messages from friends and family who were at home watching the photos of celebrities at the premiere come in on their social media feeds.  Luke was the most enthusiastic of them all, sending her screenshots of herself on the carpet a mere ten minutes after she had taken them with statements like: “How are you a real person?”

She would be lying to herself if she said that she was able to sit inside Cineworld in Leicester Square with A list stars and watch one of the most hotly anticipated films of the year that she herself was featured in and fully appreciate it.  Of course, she was excited to be there, and it was a special thing to be around such talented people and to celebrate a project like this.  However, there was a part of her that wished Luke was there by her side, not sat at home avidly scanning Instagram Live and Twitter feeds for scraps.  He could have been there as one of her guests and kept Grainne company in the family and friends seating, but they had both decided against it.  They reasoned that it did feel too exposing, and anyway, if they were not able to sit by each other’s side, it did not feel worth it.

It was in this spirit that she had found herself ending her night a little earlier than she usually would at an event like this.  She navigated her way into one of the free taxis provided by the press team and asked them not to take her to the afterparty, giving them Luke’s address instead.  She had texted her sister to let her know she would not be at said party, to which her sister had responded in her usual nonchalance:

Grainne Coughlan: Do I need you to get in?

Classic Grainne – straight to the point.

Nicola Coughlan: Not if you’ve got your premiere tickets

Grainne Coughlan: Alrighty

Nicola Coughlan: I won’t be there though

Grainne Coughlan: But Margot Robbie will

Grainne Coughlan: So I’ll live

Nicola Coughlan: Don’t do anything to tarnish the Coughlan name

Grainne Coughlan: I only want a SMALL lock of her hair

Nicola Coughlan: I know you’re joking but still, the fear of God resides in me

Grainne Coughlan: Tell Lukey I said hi ;)

Before she knew it, Nicola arrived at the large Victorian terrace and hastily attempted to tip the driver, but he politely refused, insisting that tips were also taken care of for the night.  No sooner had the taxi left then the front door flung open and there stood Luke, his hair slightly tousled, in a white t-shirt and dark sweatpants.

She felt her heart race as he drank in her appearance.  His eyes seemingly bulged out of his head.

“Fuck.” He finally said. “You look….”

She felt herself blush.

She never blushed.

Jesus, what was this boy doing to her?

“You look too good to be stood on this street at this time of night.” He finally concluded, reaching out to take her by the hands and pull her into the house.

The door had barely closed behind them before they were all over each other.

This had become one of their main communication methods lately: tongues.

They always greeted each other with a hunger but tonight was different.  She could feel it.  Tonight was the night.    

It was a strange thing but in the last few weeks, despite numerous sleepovers, they had not got there yet.  Luke had insisted that he was not in any rush when it came to sex, and she herself had a sneaking suspicion that the romantic in him would not allow them to just fall into having sex one random night, she knew he wanted it to be special.  He had still not completely recovered from the way his plan to confess his feelings to her had fallen apart; he often expressed that he felt she deserved better than a phone call – not that it mattered to her.  She made it clear she was low maintenance in that regard.   

As the days had passed, Nicola had realised that most of their nights started off with a lot of kissing and touching, but also a lot of talking.  So much talking that often, the sun was starting to come up just as they were drifting off to sleep.  Nicola realised this was the first time she had been in an intimate relationship with someone who had been one of her best friends, and because of that, there was always so much to talk about. 

Well, some might call it talking but the more accurate term was gossiping.

They gossiped about everything and everyone.  Their worlds had been so intertwined, and they had shared so many experiences that they never ran out of things to comb over.  It was an intoxicating experience to be able to make out with your best friend in one breath, and then in another, be able to share your deepest, darkest thoughts about yourself or about people you knew.  It was a level of intimacy that was deep and terrifying.  She could not imagine being so emotionally open with anyone other than him.  There was also a deep desire within her to know him inside and out.  She wanted to know his thoughts all the time, and he seemingly felt the same way. 

Yet tonight, Nicola could tell they were both thinking about the same thing, and it wasn’t talking.

They stopped kissing for a moment and Luke delicately placed his hands around her waist, being careful to not cause damage.

“Well, all I’ve thought about since seeing pictures of you tonight is tearing this dress off you…” He stated.

“Ugh, no.” Nicola let out a small, disapproving gasp in response and peeled his hands off her waist. “I shouldn’t even be here in this dress.  I’m meant to literally extract myself out of it without it touching any of my make-up and put it into an airtight bag.”

“I know, I know.” He gave her a knowing smile.

Nicola gave him a puzzled look.  She knew him well enough to know he was up to something.

They were stood in the semi-lit hallway that had two doorways along it; one door led to a kitchen and living space and the other led to a bathroom.  Right next to them was a carpeted staircase with a wooden banister that led up to two bedrooms. 

Luke led her into the living room.  An ornately engraved fireplace, high ceilings and wooden floorboards made up the period features of the space which were coupled with modern touches that included a dark leather sofa, a dark green island and kitchen cabinetry and a large bookshelf containing a mixture of DVDs and books.

The first thing she noticed was that the usually bright room was dimly lit because the only source was lighting was candles.  So many candles.  Candles everywhere.  On the kitchen island. Along the bookshelves. On the mantlepiece.  The light bounced off the crystals on her dress making her literally shimmer. 

She felt silly at how oddly emotional the sight made her feel. 

“You’re glowing.” Luke whispered in her ear from behind her, as if reading her mind.  She felt his arms wrap around her from behind, felt his chest press up against her back as he placed a kiss on her neck.

“This is… this took you some time, huh?” She managed to croak out.

He laughed in response. “You have no idea.”

“And the fire hazard alone…” Nicola joined in with his laughter. “This is enough to give your landlord a stroke.”

Luke’s hands started to move carefully across the bodice of her dress, and she started to help him. Together, they identified the zip, and she let Luke tug at it so that the dress started to slide down her spine.  She started to extricate herself from the tight-fitting arms of the dress, until she was stood there in just a nude thong and bra with the fabric at her feet.  Luke gave her a hand as she stepped out of the gown and then dutifully bent down and to lift it up carefully by the sleeves.  He held it up before them, unblemished and without a single piece of embellishment missing.

“She’s perfect.” Nicola remarked. “Nicely done, sir.”

“Nearly three years of watching you get in and out of impossible gowns pays off.” Luke shrugged.

He took great pains to gingerly lay the dress across the length of the sofa.  For not the first time, Nicola felt a warm feeling travel through her.  The way he cared about the things she cared about was everything to her.  It was so unbelievably sexy that she had to have him, right there and then.  She grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss and he responded eagerly.  Before she could process what was happening, she was hoisted up, her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands groping at her waist and naked buttocks as he carried her back through the hallway and into the bathroom.  She gave little thought to the change of location.  It was hard to care about anything when your entire body felt like it was on fire.  She found her back pushed against the wall of the bathroom as they continued to kiss, but she wanted more.  She pulled her face away from him as she tugged his t-shirt up over his torso and his head, but it was slightly stuck around his neck.  He tried to assist despite his face being covered by the shirt, his arms flailing hilariously to get it over his head. 

She took in his body, his glistening abs, his biceps which bulged as they supported her weight; she found herself tracing kisses along his shoulder and up his neck as he let out a moan, finally freed from the shirt.  She felt the hardness between his legs, she tightened the grip of her legs around his waist, pulled her own soft wetness against his member and felt the hot frustration build in her at the barrier of fabric between them.  She wanted him in her.

Those sweatpants needed to come off.

She found herself tugging at them when Luke gently pulled back.

It was only then that she took in the room around them.  The bathroom was spacious and lined with wooden floorboards.  A glass walled rain shower stood to one side and a claw-footed bathtub to the other.  The entire room was also decorated with lit candles.  The bathtub was filled with foamy bubbles and rose petals.  A small side table stood by the tub with a bottle of champagne, a box of chocolates and two crystal flutes.  A bouquet of roses lay to one side.

“Wow…” Nicola gasped for the second time that night.

“I know how much you like a nice bath and some bubbles, and I thought you’d need it more tonight than anything.” He smiled.

“Oh, Luke, this is…” She found herself blinking back tears.

How was she ever going to top a day as good as this one?

She started to slip out of her thong and bra, her sudden nakedness feeling more apparent to her as she padded her way across the room to the bathtub.  She felt his eyes on her, his expression was one of someone spellbound. 

“I can’t be the only naked one.” She teased as she started to slide into the water.

He grinned back at her and in one sweeping movement, he pulled down his bottoms and boxers so that he was fully exposed to her.

“That’s a move right out of Magic Mike.” She managed to joke as most of the breath left her body.

The sight of him like that was almost too unbearable.  She really wanted him.

There were parts she had seen before of course.  You don’t film sexually explicit scenes like the ones they had and not see something.  Yet, there were definitely parts she had never seen before.  His erect penis being one of them.

How could someone be so perfectly sculpted?  She thought.

“Get over here.” She managed to say, her tone demanding.  Her desperation seemed to please him, he smirked in a self-satisfied way but obliged, and walked towards her, and then crouched beside her as she lay in the tub.

“What are you doing?” She frowned, impatience affecting her. “I want you. Get in.”

“I want to take care of you first…” He responded. “We need to get that make-up off you.”

He was right.  She was covered in body make-up and glitter.  Some of it was bleeding into the bubbles and petals, turning the water slightly amber.

“You’re pretty dirty…” He continued.  His hand reached into the water and was between her legs before she could respond.

Jesus fucking Christ, she had never been this horny in her life.

He used the firmness of his fingers against her, pressing and rubbing at alternating intensities that were somehow just right.  She closed her eyes tight and let out one moan and then many moans as pleasure took over every part of her body.   

“But you’re dirty in all the right ways…” He sounded breathless as he spoke, as his hand worked on her.  She could feel him vibrating with desire as he watched her writhe before him.

She began pushing herself into him, her hands gripping the bottom of the tub as she forced her pelvis against him.  Her back arched and she felt her breasts leave the warmth of the soapy water as they were thrust into the air, and then she felt the wetness of his mouth on her nipple, his tongue working on it as hard as his fingers were down there.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…!” She found herself practically screaming as she came.  Electric jolts travelled through her body.  She convulsed as the sensitivity in every nerve in her body increased.

“Fuck…..!” She sighed, her head against the porcelain of the tub, a bead of sweat travelling down her forehead. 

Before she had time to really catch her breath, Luke was pulling her up so that they were both stood, naked, pressed against one another as they entered a passionate kiss.

“Bedroom, please.” She managed to beg.

She wanted him inside her so badly.

He pulled her up, slippery and naked, so that her legs were around him again.  They continued to lock lips as he carried her out of the bathroom. 

They made it as far as the stairs.

Nicola learnt something that day: a wooden banister provides great support for certain physical activities.

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

[onhajoon]

A tribute to one of my most favourite villains to grace a Kdrama. This playlist is about dark pasts, moral dilemmas, toxic relationships, PLUS the redemption arc we never got, in which Hajoon is saved and relearns how to live with the Rainbow Taxi crew 🍻

[muddy-water-1997]

𝖠𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖡𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗍𝗌

𝖳𝖶: 𝖤𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗌, 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝖬𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀?, 𝖭𝖣𝖠 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾

Chapter 4 - The Hilton

Even if you've seen a group at a concert and been keeping up with their social media, you need more preparation for the intensity of their presence. This realisation hits you hard as the van accelerates, seemingly defying local road laws. A cacophony of unfamiliar languages fills the air, emanating from phone speakers, fellow passengers, and the driver. It's as if your parasocial friends have unexpectedly whisked you away, leaving you feeling utterly powerless. 

As the chaos around you intensifies, you attempt to interject and calm the situation. "You know," you say firmly, your voice cutting through the noise. "If this is about your whereabouts or anything of that nature, you don't have to worry. We can keep a secret." You motion towards yourself and your friend, hoping to convey your sincerity. Despite the painful throbbing in your head and the lingering effects of alcohol, you try your best to maintain a serious demeanour.

"Oh, we can trust you?" Changbin retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, why didn't you just say that? Let's turn this whole thing around, and while I'm at it, I'll give you every member's private number so you can just call us and chat whenever you like." He turns away; his gaze is fixed on the passing scenery. A sigh of relief escapes his lips as the hotel doors come into view, and staff in all black await your arrival.

As Chan and Changbin stepped out of the SUV, Chan shot a frustrated look at his friend and whispered, "Dude, she's still recovering from the bump on her head, give her a break." Felix and your friend slowly helped you out of the vehicle and guided you towards the hotel entrance. As you approached them, a staff member directed you to a meeting room where medical staff awaited your arrival. The room was brightly lit with fluorescent overhead lights, the intensity of which only added to your ever-growing headache. All you could think about was the water you desperately wanted half an hour ago.

Following a thorough checkup by the medical team, which you found a bit too rigorous for your liking, you were informed that you could leave, but only if you agreed to rest for at least 48 hours. You turned towards your best friend, feeling utterly stunned by the intense night you had just experienced and eager to hail a taxi back to the hotel. Meeting your favourite band members had always been your dream, but you never imagined it would happen in such an unexpected, almost fanfiction-like way.

You emerge from the meeting room, clutching your trusty water bottle, still reeling from the blow you sustained earlier. Thankfully, the bandage on your head has stemmed the flow of blood that was previously cascading down your face. The medic had allowed you to glimpse your reflection momentarily, and you were taken aback by the sorry sight that stared back at you. Blood and mascara had mingled together, creating a gruesome sight, and your foundation was caked with gravel marks from the impact of your fall. 

As you step into the grand foyer, you can't help but marvel at its extravagance. The walls are decorated with intricate gold and cream details, and the area is overflowing with blooming flowers that match the décor perfectly. Your gaze is drawn to a cluster of eight men huddled at the bottom of the grand staircase, engaging in hushed conversation. Suddenly, you notice Felix's eyes snap in your direction as he becomes the first to acknowledge your entrance.

"Hey, y/n!" he called out as he approached you. You were surprised that you didn't freak out when you first saw him in this light. You tried to push the cringe-inducing thought of your first meeting out of your mind. As Felix called out, the rest of the group slowly turned to look at both of you. The situation was quite overwhelming. The other seven men were dressed in tracksuits and looked tired. Most of them smiled. However, two notable people didn't.

You smiled at Felix and said, "Thank you for everything, and I'm sorry for everything," gesturing towards yourself and the room to give him a general understanding of the situation. A small laugh escaped Felix's lips as you quickly turned on your heels to avoid further questions.

You spin back around, startled by the sudden interruption of Changbin's monotone voice. "Hold on," he says, his expression unreadable. "Management requires your attention. They need you to sign some important papers."

Hyunjin intervened, reaching out to grab Binnie's shoulder, and spoke up calmly and gently. "Don't be so harsh on them. Felix had good intentions and was only trying to do something kind for them. I believe anyone in his position would have done the same for you."

Minho chimed in, adding his two cents to the conversation. "It's not fair to blame Felix for Seungmin's loose lips," he remarked, his tone tinged with amusement.

Seungmin glanced over at IN, a hint of annoyance on his face. "If only someone hadn't taken four hours to get themselves sorted after the show," he muttered, his eyes rolling at the thinly veiled accusation.

"I think you'll find I was busy trying to find Han and Minho who couldn’t find their phones. I spent at least 3 of those hours trying to sort those two out", IN retorted.

"Well, that wasn't exactly why Minho and I took so long." Han retorted before Minhos hand sealed his mouth shut. Your eyes widen in disbelief.

"Okay, enough. We're all tired," Bangchan stepped in, ending the argument. "Let's just have you and your friend sign these documents so we can go to bed and forget that any of this happened." You have never agreed to anything sooner in your life. A staff member showed you a table where two forms were laid out for you and your friend to sign.

Both are labelled: JYPE NON DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT.

Damn. It is not the NDA you were expecting to receive after a concert, but here you are, and at this point, you just want to be out of there and back in your own, much lower-standard hotel. A pen is quickly handed to you by another member of the seemingly endless staff, and you sign it without reading through the document. 

After receiving an NDA from the group of eight men, you force a smile and turn away, feeling a mix of disappointment and frustration. As you approach the reception desk to order a taxi back to your hotel, you can't help but replay the night's events. The concert you had been eagerly anticipating for weeks had turned out to be a huge letdown, and the insensitive comment from Changbin had just added insult to injury. You try to push the negative thoughts aside and hope that when you wake up, it will all have been a crazy, vivid dream, and the disappointing concert will be just a distant memory.

NEXT CHAPTER

𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾? 𝖳𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾! 𝖬𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖻𝗈𝗑 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌! 

𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖣𝗋𝗈𝗉 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝖣𝖬!

[x-aefx]

ONE TIME THING - BELLA RAMSEY (PART3)

Pictures above are not mine

Summary: unbeknownst to you, you meet actor Bella Ramsey. You two hit it off but your paths lead two different directions.

Bella Ramsey x female reader

Warnings: none

Taglist: @evieguhbyebroski @amberputh @assgardangod @just-here-to-read-fanfictions @eddiesgirlsblog

I used she/them pronouns for Bella.

A/N: not proofread !

Part one⬇️

★★

The small piece of paper kept itself crumpled in the back pocket of your trousers for the remainder of your shift. Sometimes you found yourself holding onto it when you zoned out, like some weird necessity.

Everytime you thought your shift was near it's end, you'd look over at the clock and it was like it went back an hour. You didn't know why you were so excited. you knew bella gave you her number so you would text her, but you were dreadful at texting.

Just text bella like you text Aaron.

No. Definitely not.

The seventh time you looked over at the old clock that hung amongst the rest of the decorations displayed on the walls, you felt as if the guy in the clouds finally listened to you for once in your life.

All the burns and pains in your arms you had endured suddenly became worth it.

You ignored the confused faces off your coworkers as you sped past them and towards the door. The cold breeze hit your face Instantly, working in that stuffy café made it very much welcomed.

The taxi ride home was quiet. You exchanged a few words with the driver about the weather and what was happening on the news. The entire ride home your leg shook up and down, from the worry or nerves you couldn't tell.

You watched the life outside you pass you by from the window, 90s greatest hits played on the radio at a low volume, you had the urge to tell the driver to turn it up but decided it was better to leave him alone.

"here we are, miss. "

Your small home came into view. It wasn't the fanciest house, but it was yours and you loved it. It was a small two story brick house, ivy was growing along the side of it (you thought it looked pretty in a way) the design was something straight out of victorian times but that never bothered you. It was cozy and safe and you were able to call it home. Thanking the driver you stepped out of the black vehicle, your phone and purse in your hand.

Walking up the small footpath leading to the dark green door you listened to the sound of the taxi driving away amongst the other traffic, the sounds of children and adults conversing. You made a mental note to replace the flowers that were on your windowsill, their dying petals falling from the plant pot they resided in.

Unlocking the door you stepped out of your shoes and took off your coat. Making your way into the living room you dropped your phone on the couch. You paced back and fourth.

"this is so fucking stupid!" You groaned in frustration as you covered your face with your hands.

The sound of soft padding on the wooden floor captured your attention. Your frustration temporarily gone at the sight.

Toby ran as fast as any kitten could at only a few weeks old. He was only the size of your hand. He sat directly on your foot, looking up at you expectantly.

You laughed, all your thoughts completely gone.

Bending down to pick the tiny fluffball up you craddled him in your arms. Toby rested on his back in your arms, all four paws fighting with the air to try grab at your hair. You rubbed your hand on his white stomach, covered with thick fluffy fur. You kissed his nose.

"I love you buddy. But I wouldn't trust you to protect the house. you sleep in my bed for the entire day."

Toby let out a soft meow. Your heart melted, all the love you had for this little guy couldn't be normal.

"yeah yeah, your life is so hard." You teased. Bending down again you placed him gently on the floor.

Your head turned to your phone once again. You sighed. It was Bella. A complete stranger, but it was still just Bella. Why were you stressing? Closing your eyes for a second you tried to collect your thoughts. You came to the conclusion that a warm shower was needed right now. You would text Bella after.

Leaving your phone where it lay on the couch you made your way for the stairs, only to stop. You turned back around, looking at the floor where you stood, expecting to see Toby only for him to not be there. Your eyes moved to where you placed him Infront of the couch. Toby lay sleeping.

"you've got to be kidding me?" You rolled your eyes. Trust Toby to not be able to stay awake for more than five minutes. Walking back you picked him up again and held him in your arms as you made your way upstairs. Upon entering your room you placed him under your duvet against your pillows: his favorite spot.

Walking into the bathroom you immediately began undressing yourself. You wasted no time before stepping inside the shower. The warm droplets of water felt magical on your skin. The tension in your body relaxed, your mirror fogged with steam. Those twenty minutes you spent in the shower was the most peace you've had the entire day.

When you had eventually gotten out and dressed in a more comfortable attire, you briskly moved down towards the living room. Picking up your phone you walked back up the stairs, you were afraid the more you stopped to think about what you were about to do, the more likely you were not to do it.

Crawling beneath the duvet, you cuddled up beside Toby on your side. Unlocking your phone you typed in Bella's number, you were ashamed that you had stared at the number for so long that you had accidentally learned it off by heart.

What would you say?

Hey, bella, it's me a random texting you at night! How are you?

Hey! It's the girl that can't stop thinking of you!

Good evening Bella, it's the stranger who sat beside you on the bus.

Fuck. My. Awkwardness.

You envied Bella for her boldness. Perhaps if you had given them your number first, they would have to be the one to start the conversation first, not you.

Pondering it some more in your head, your thumb began moving around your keyboard once again.

Oh my god

Oh my god

Oh my god

The moment you pressed 'send' you regretted it immediately.

''They're going to think I'm such a weirdo.'' you groaned. You ruined all imaginary chances you had with Bella.

"why do I do this to myself?" You whispered.

★★

"I take offense! I give great advice!"

"right. And how exactly has that ended?"

"I literally get called 'daddy' everyday by people on the internet."

Bella rolled their eyes knowing Pedro could see it as they were on FaceTime.

Bella rested their chin in their hand as they continued to listen to Pedro's rambling. Laying on their bed whilst on call with Pedro was one of their favorite ways to spend their evenings, especially when moments like these were rare considering both of their busy timetables.

Bella's eyes briefly looked up at the incoming notification before going back to Pedro. Only when the realization fully hit them a second later did she do a double take. Suddenly sitting up on her bead, Bella reread the notification over and over again in disbelief.

It's was a message from an unknown number.

"hey, it's y/n."

A simple three word text that meant the absolute world to Bella. Their heart was beating like crazy at the thought of you. Bella could imagine your face in their mind right now. You standing there looking all pretty.

Bella smiled widely.

They were terrified that they had scared you off, creeped you out by showing up at your work and giving you their number before they ran off. And when you hadn't texted them earlier, it confirmed their thoughts in their mind. It saddened them, thankfully they managed to call Pedro at a time when he wasn't busy. Bella had managed to avoid the thought of you and the possibility that they had ruined all imaginary chances that they had with you.

Until now, now it was all they could think about.

"what's got you all smiley then, huh?"

"nothing, hey I gotta go-something came up-"

"Are you blushing!" Pedro accused whilst he laughed at his friends reddened face.

"no-i have to go bye!"

"hey you didn't answer my question -"

Call ended

Bella rolled onto their stomach as they opened their messages, clicking on your text. They felt all giddy inside, like they were a child again.

Quickly they typed out a response.

Bella bit their lip anxiously as they continually read over their response waiting to find something wrong with it.

"Please don't think I'm a weirdo" Bella whispered desperately to herself.

★★

You squealed once you read Bella's message.

There was no getting rid of the smile on your face.

Immediately you started typing again.

This time you felt a little less nervous about texting Bella, the nerves were replaced with excitement.

The 'sent' changed to 'seen' immediately. You watched with anticipation as the three dots moved.

You giggled. You knew Bella was referring to seeing them act on the show. You must admit the urge to ask a trillion questions about their acting career and each of their characters was strong, but you didn't want Bella to see you as some overbearing, nosy fan.

You were laughing now. Everytime you read another of Bella's texts, the more your face reddened and the fluttering feeling in your stomach multiplied.

You let out a breath.

You hoped you hadn't fucked everything up now.

Please don't think I'm a weirdo

★★

Bella's whole face was red now.

They smiled widely as they kept reading your messages.

You knew who they were!

The thought made Bella excited. A different sort of excitement, almost proud in a way.

You thought they were cool!

Bella laughed in joy and partly because of the flustered feeling they got from thoughts of you.

Play it cool Bella

Bella hid their face in their hands, dropping their hold on their phone instantly like it was lava.

Now matter what, their smile was not ceasing and neither were their giggles or butterflies in their stomach.

--

[ceeceefangirling]

i got really sentimental about odasaku and then i wrote this thing which is kind of formatted weird and maybe does not make sense lolol. but here u go!!

/////////////

bungo stray dogs fanfiction ~ odasaku x female reader ~ pregnancyy

/////////////

one thing leads to another and suddenly, suddenly, you’re seated at a bartop, staring at a glass of chocolate milk and waiting waiting waiting. heart in your throat, lungs in your stomach. swallow hard and fast. when will he be here? the barkeeper pours you another glass. you chug half of it. when will he be here?

swing of a door and you hear his footsteps. you don’t need to look up. it’s him.

he greets you with a kiss to the side of your head - your temple - and you feel his hands on your arms, guiding them into the sleeves of his coat. “you’re shivering.”

he sits down next to you and the bartender sets a glass down before him. his usual drink. you both wait until it’s poured, shimmering amber in front of him.

he takes a sip and glances over at you. you haven’t looked at him once.

he doesn’t ask. he doesn’t pressure you. he looks away, at his drink, at the ice floating inside of it.

“enjoying the rain?”

flash of need through you. get it out. get it out. you lean towards him, desperate for your mouth at his ear, desperate for as much privacy as you can get; and he leans forward, obliging.

you claw at him, unconsciously, nails digging into his neck as you drag his head even closer.

“i’m pregnant,” you hush into his ear, as faintly as you can. if you don’t speak it it’s not true. if you don’t speak it it’s not true

he’s silent.

you’re silent.

the barkeeper is minding his own business on the other end of the bar.

it’s just the two of you, isn’t it? just the two of you, your world rapidly constricting around you.

he’s the one not looking, now. you’re staring at him. desperate. look at me. tell me what you’re thinking.

but you already know, don’t you? he’s thinking the same four thoughts as you are.

thought one.

perfect perfect perfect perfect perfect. rush of everything golden and good. this is what you want. this is what you want. you’ve craved this you’ve needed this more than anything more than oxygen. a family. our family. our child our family me and you you and i our child our child our child our

thought two.

cold. chilling. ice down the spine.

if they target us, now, they target them.

thought three.

it’s dangerous, isn’t it? this line of work. this line of living. we’ve doomed our child. we’ve doomed our family. we’ve doomed our future. we knew this. we knew we could never have a family together. we accepted this. we accepted anything just to hold each other. there is no space in our life. there is no space in our life.

thought four.

we are lost. we are sinking. we are lost. we are sinking. we are

he does not speak. he is staring at the countertop.

you apologize, even though it is not entirely your fault. it is not something you could have helped. but your hands are shaking, and so are his, and you know that he has never ever breathed a word to you - he could never bear to - but he has never wanted needed craved for yearned for anything, anything more than to hold your own child.

you apologize again. he shakes his head.

he shakes his head.

he knocks back his drink and stands up.

“we should go,” he tells you. “go home.”

“but -”

he knows you. he knows the tightening around your ribcage when confronted with anything uncomfortable at home.

“we should go home,” he tells you, firmly.

he’s looking at you, now.

you slide off of your barstool and let him lead you off. he hails a taxi outside. usually you would walk.

neither of you speak on the drive to your apartment. how can you speak with the driver there, listening, intruding?

it takes him a few tries to get the keys into the door. you try to help, reaching out with your own shaky hands, but he jams the key in before you can do much.

the lights are off in the apartment. your hair is wet.

you don’t move to turn on the light. neither does he.

“saku -”

and he’s crashed into you, his arms tight around you, his mouth on yours his tongue on yours. he’s desperate. you stagger backwards. he follows, follows, until he’s pressed you tight against a wall, knocking over a picture frame, or a glass. who cares? he’s devouring you whole.

“saku -” you gasp, and he kisses your neck, his arms still clenching you like you’ll escape from him if he loosens his grasp even a little bit, even a little.

he does not speak. he moves to your lips again, his tongue still hot and thick in your mouth. you can hear him whining in the back of his throat.

you let him kiss you, eat you, swallow you. he loses momentum after a while, still pinned against the wall. he drops his head, panting, rests his forehead against your shoulder.

“having my baby,” he says, now, his voice husky and choked, wet with passion, love, hope, terror, reverence.

you put one hand on the back of his neck. it’s warm, and sweaty.

“i’m -” you try.

what are you?

sorry? angry? scared?

you can’t name the emotions like that, like a preschooler still learning how to feel. you want to kill something, and eat something, and watch your husband press his lips to your child’s forehead. you want to hear him tell them stories, see his eyes light up as he looks at them.

“i’m -”

he kisses you again, soft, lingering. his mouth tastes like whiskey and blood. he’s bitten through his tongue.

“i’m so happy,” he whispers. he doesn’t sound happy, does he? he still hasn’t turned the light on. you put a hand on his cheek. it comes back wet.

“saku -”

your eyes are adjusting to the darkness, just a little. you can see him looking at you. his eyes are big, wet, pleading. his lips are trembling.

you touch his cheek again. scratchy. he hasn’t shaved. his tears are warm and salty on your fingers.

“saku,” you whisper, again.

he presses his forehead to yours. his breaths are hot and quick.

he starts to say something, and stops. he’s whimpering, whining, straining sounds of pain or anger or horror or

“i think we should get some sleep,” you tell him.

he nods.

he insists on showering, first. his skin is coated with a layer of sweat, dirt, blood, rain. he stands under the water for a little too long. you sit under the covers and wait for him, folding and unfolding your fingers, nervous, nervous.

he's silhouetted in the doorway for a moment. his hair is sticking up.

he clicks off the bathroom light and crawls into bed next to you. the mattress creaks and shifts.

you lay, silent, in the dark. backs flat on the bed. eyes up at the ceiling.

he is thinking.

he can’t speak right now but his mind is so loud.

two things he wants, more than anything. writing and a family.

he’s got those orphans, holed up on a second floor. but they’re not quite the same thing. they don’t have his eyes, or her fingers. they’re not his.

he shuts his eyes, so tight that sparks flit across the back of his eyelids. she’s pregnant.

and he should be happy - he should be - but it’s hard to be happy under these conditions. worrying about the orphans is bad enough. and if they have a kid - his own kid - he’s going to wear himself out, worrying. he’s going to tear a hole through his stomach.

he turns over to look at her. her eyes are open. she’s staring at the ceiling.

he reaches out for her, his fingers brushing over her cheek. she turns her face. her eyes are shimmering.

neither of them speak. how could they?

how can you speak like this?

[writingmccord]

[New story!!!!]

The elevator felt like it slid down the shaft slower than last night, taking forever to make it down to the ground floor from her twelfth-floor hotel room. When the doors finally open, she steps out, her heel touching the hard tiles first and making a clunking noise.

She mindlessly fumbles with the button on her blazer, checking that it's closed as she makes her way to the revolving door and out into the concrete jungle of New York City. "Taxi!" She yells, sticking her hand up as a yellow cab goes by.

Her hand is in her pocket, wrapped around her index cards that she's using to present on at the Military-Intelligence Cooperation Summit, or "MICS" as everyone has been calling it. Isabelle was supposed to come with her, but now her twelfth-floor room is housing only herself because Isabelle had come down with the flu before their plane left out of Washington Dulles.

Finally, she gets a cab to stop. "Columbia University, please," she says to the driver from the backseat, and he nods, speeding off from the curb as she looks back at her hotel doors one more time and takes a deep breath.

(continue with link above:))

[ampresandian]

The first meeting of Amethyst and Artemis.

Daughter of Poseidon: My name is Amethyst.

Artemis: *Vietnamese flashback* What do you think about becoming my huntress?

•••

Sally holding a shotgun with heavenly bronze bullets in her hands: Mr. D, what do you think of my daughter?

Dionysus looking at Sally like she's crazy: She's a pesky little sea child, the only thing I can think of is turning her into a dolphin and sending her straight to her father!

Artemis with a bow and arrow to the advantage: are you sure?

•••

Annabeth: Amethyst, how did you get the taxi driver to give us a free ride?

Amethyst: Daughter of Poseidon, This is a sea..

Annabeth with burning eyes: So you're a siren?

Amethyst: No Annabeth! I won't sing to you! Don't even ask!

I'm going to go ahead and share this--I can tell you've thought a lot about this character, and I hope you've considered writing some fanfiction in whatever form that naturally takes for you (all literature is good literature)

I do think we could maybe call it a "war flashback" or even a "Vietnam war flashback," just in service of respecting that Vietnamese is a culture which is more complex than a 20th century war.

I can imagine Amethyst and Annabeth being confused among the campers, given their similar-sounding names. I don't know if they get together in this imagining of the story, but I think that they would be just as close, and probably enjoy that their names are so similar.