#this is inspired by the fact that i feel awful and then my brain went ''cool i think we should knit something ''

[ineffable-gallimaufry]

having a shit day? turn it into a knit day with these five easy steps:

get some yarn

get a pair of needles

knit something (obviously)

[minswriting]

Min!! Congrats on 900 followers! I love your work so so much, you inspire my work, you are so incredible and talented - I love you i love you i love youuuuu!!!

I have come with a dirty request. I would like season 3ish Spencer, being taught by reader how he should touch her since he’s not that experienced and then Spencer flusteredly being like ‘could you show me how you touched me last time so I can remember how to do it myself’ AAAA just like something about TEACHING that SOB that knows everything itches something deep and horny in my brain. Xoxo 🧸

AHHHH THIS IS SUCH A LATE RESPONSE IM SO SORRRYYYY however i love this request so of course i will write it. my apologies for being so slow with stuff lately guys. life be getting in the way 😔😔

nsfw | mdni | spencer reid x reader | fingering (f), squirting

your relationship with spencer was still relatively new. you guys had been dating for about a month or so and have only done a few sexual things to one another. he had watched you get yourself off before, taking in the movements of your fingers at the different parts of your cunt. and he desperately wanted to make you feel good too.

so, one night, after spencer had gotten home from a case, the two of you were sat on his couch, watching some old movie. and he just looks at you randomly and goes “can you teach me how to please you like you do yourself?”

it caught you off guard for a moment. you didn’t comprehend his words right away but the moment you did, you couldn’t help but smile. “is that what’s been on your pretty mind tonight?” you asked, looking at your boyfriend.

spencer simply pressed his lips together in an awkward smile, nodding his head. “uh…yes?” he said, sounding unsure.

“of course i can teach you,” you exclaimed.

which led to the two of you on the couch as you sat in between spencer’s legs, back to his chest, with your pants and panties off. your legs were spread and you held spencer’s hand in yours. “firstly, you take your finger and you spread the wetness around.” you said softly, bringing his hand down to your pussy and guiding his pointer finger up and down your slit, spreading the wetness around. “it’s not a necessity but it helps just lubricate everything.”

“you’re so wet,” spencer whispered in awe as he gently moved his finger up and down you slit.

you let out a breathy laugh, nodding your head. “for you? always.” you replied. you then guided two of his fingers to your clit. “this, this is the-“

“the clitoris, a sensitive area located on top of the vulva. it’s a primary sensory organ of female sexual response,” spencer interrupted, going into factual mode for just a moment. without thinking about it, he began rubbing your clit gently.

you let out a soft moan, your eyes fluttering shut. it never failed to turn you on when spencer spewed random facts. it also very much helped that he was a quick learner because your brain always went to mush when your pussy was being played with. “y-you just keep doing that for a little while,” you stuttered, holding onto spencer’s arm as he rubbed your clit.

spencer didn’t say anything in response as he just looked at you from over your shoulder. tentatively, he leaned his head to your shoulder blade, kissing your skin gently. the action sent shivers down your spine as he began kissing towards your neck.

after a few minutes, you had decided that you needed to be filled, grabbing spencer’s hand and stopping his movements. “now, you’re going to insert a finger,” you brought his fingers to your hole, grabbing his middle finger. “this one,” you exclaimed. “you’re going to insert that finger inside,” you whispered.

“like this?” spencer asked as his digit slowly entered inside of you. your walls fluttered at the intrusion, clenching around his finger. “you’re so tight.”

“mhm,” you said before swallowing. “and now you gently thrust it in and out, slowly at first before adding a second finger. and if you curve your finger,” spencer did just that, causing you to jolt and let out a moan. “that is the g-spot.” you whimpered.

“so if i do this,” he began thrusting his finger in and out of you gently, making sure to make a “come here” motion with his finger inside of you. “it’ll feel good?”

you moaned, nodding your head. “very good,” you replied.

spencer simply moved his finger in and out of you at a slow pace, making sure to graze your sweet spot each time. he couldn’t help but press himself against you, his cock so hard from touching you. after a few minutes, he added a second finger, moving his fingers at the same pace.

“f-faster, please,” you whimpered.

and spencer complied. he began moving his fingers faster, hitting your spongy spot each time. “like this?” he asked hotly into your ear.

“just like that,” you moaned, throwing your head back in pleasure. “oh my god.”

the room was filled with the sound of spencer’s fingers moving in and out of your pussy. the noise just getting wetter as his fingers began squelching. and without any warning, you squirted around his fingers, whining and moaning in his arms. “oh fuck,” you moaned out.

it didn’t take a genius to realize you had squirted for the first time. spencer smirked to himself, unable to help it. “that good, huh?” he asked a bit smugly as he continued finger fucking you so good.

you whined, nodding your head. “so good, spence, oh my god,” you replied. you could feel the heat tightening in your abdomen as your orgasm approached. “so close, so close.”

spencer let out a soft moan as he could feel his cock twitching in his pants from this whole scenario. he continued working his fingers inside of you, determined to make you cum.

and with a choked moan, you began cumming. you arched your back against spencer as your thighs clenched around his hand. you let out a high pitched moan, toes curling as you came. and spencer just watched it all as he fingered you through your orgasm.

without any warning, spencer shuttered as he came in his pants from the sight of you cumming on his fingers. “o-oh,” he moaned, ropes of cum painting his boxers and pants.

and when the both of you came down from your highs, spencer pulled out his fingers and the both of you breathed heavily, leaning back to relax. after a few minutes of silence, you spoke “i have never squirted before,” you said in disbelief.

spencer hummed, smiling goofily at you. “glad to be your first then.” he replied, kissing the back of your head.

“and i can’t believe you came in your pants.” you replied.

“oh shut up.” spencer exclaimed.

it was safe to say that fingering you quickly became spencer’s absolute favorite thing in the world.

[sleepynoons]

togame x afab!f!reader (characters aged up), nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: marathon sex, unprotected sex, oral (receiving), slight face riding, subdrop + dubcon (not intended but could be interpreted as so), one slap on the ass, cum eating, fingering, descriptions of violence + pain + blood

notes: the underground fighter/fight club!au that no one asked for. i've never seen the movie either, so literally, take everything – especially the fight scene in this one-shot – with a fucking atom of salt. i was inspired by this lovely art, and since the manga mentions that togame has limitless stamina... well, i kinda had to do something with that info...

YOU'D EXPECT your boyfriend to be tired out by now. in fact, if you were him, the two of you would have gone to bed hours ago, deep in slumber from the day’s excitement and exhaustion. instead, you’re splayed out on the bed, arms boneless next to you and mouth releasing tired whimpers, as your body rocks along with every deep thrust from jo.

his hands hold onto your hips tightly, pulling you back as he pushes forward, attempting to bury himself ever deeper into you. jo’s always been competitive, and paired with his methodical nature, he’s obsessed with trying to bring the two of you to new heights of sexual pleasure.

how did the two of you end up like this?

your brain’s hazy, clouded by the feeling of jo’s cock kissing that sweet spot inside of you and his teeth nipping and biting at your neck and shoulders. but you try to recall, as a means to hang on, to stay awake for just a little bit longer.

you were invited to watch jo fight for the first time. you weren’t particularly fond of supporting violence, but he had insisted it was something of a casual community event, and it was good for some extra cash and fun prizes. it was also an important part of his life, and since the two of you’ve been dating for a few months now, he wanted to bring you along to meet some of his friends.

when both of you were driving to the club, hosted in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town, you asked, “aren’t fight clubs illegal?”

he shrugged and said, “number one rule of fight club: don’t talk about fight club.”

you snorted and rolled your eyes. “you already have.” jo chuckled and answered all the questions you had until the two of you arrived.

he guided you toward the entrance and showed you around, pointing out a few coolers for drinks, the bathroom, and the arena itself. several people were already there, catching up and placing bets on the night’s matches.

as you walked around, you overheard someone say, “all my money’s on togame.” you glanced at your boyfriend, but he made no indication that he had heard anything. 

after being introduced to a few of jo’s friends, it was almost time for the match-ups to start. he had explained to you earlier that he would have to leave you unaccompanied as all participants were required to prepare for their rounds in a large storage room, which was essentially a smaller, neighboring warehouse unit. you reassured him that you would be fine, and in the worst case, you would wait for him in the car.

the fights shortly began after your boyfriend left. you watched as challengers came and went, some throwing punches and kicks at each other while others with more experience used their wits and specific techniques. you cringed as fists collided with jaws and feet were swiped off the floor. but everyone, including the fighters, seemed to be enjoying themselves, so you remained in your seat.

after four matches, it was finally jo’s turn.

like all of the other fighters, jo was shirtless and barefoot. everyone in the audience seemed to roar for your boyfriend as he made his way into the ring. when he stepped into the light, you sucked in a deep breath, a little shocked and in awe.

you had never seen jo so excited about anything in his life.

the jo you knew ate so slow that all the food would be cold by the time he was half-finished, preferred to nap on a beach chair instead of swimming in the pool, and hosted gatherings with friends at home to avoid clubbing and drinking out. the person you’ve gotten to know in the past few months seemed to be a wholesome, harmless dork.

but this jo didn’t even spare you a glance. now that he was standing in the ring, he was laser-focused on his opponent, eyes wide with dilated pupils and a wild, animalistic glint in them. it became abundantly clear to everyone in the audience that, no matter what, jo would win.

apparently, jo had amassed quite a bit of a reputation for himself, hence why the fight club was so packed. the hollers and howls from the spectators escalated as jo exchanged blow after blow with his opponent. you watched as your boyfriend ducked a swing, shifted his balance and stepped on one of his opponent’s feet, effectively immobilizing them for a second, before using his shoulder to jab at and ram into the opponent’s solar plexus. the other stumbled back a bit before managing to land a heavy kick to jo’s side, and despite knowing it would leave a nasty bruise, jo didn’t flinch and instead lunged forward, landing a series of punches in quick succession to the other’s face. in a few moments, his opponent surrendered. you finally allowed yourself to breathe, only noticing then that you barely did throughout the fight.

as the referee held up jo’s arm to announce his victory, he finally looked around in search of you. your boyfriend must’ve noticed your stunned expression, so he cocked his head and discreetly nudged his chin towards the exit. intuition told you to wait for him outside.

as you rushed outside, jo easily caught up to you, spinning you around and pinning you to the car. you squeaked as he kissed you deeply, taking away the air you just managed to regain, and pressed his body against yours, the smell of sweat and rusting blood piquing your senses. when he broke away and you thought you had a moment to recollect yourself, he dove back in, sucking on your lips till they bruised and swelled and brushing his hands against your ear, knowing that the touch made you shudder and buckle at the knees. even when your legs gave way, he didn’t relent, and you had to gasp out a “it hurts!” for him to pull away. you watched as he let up, and when the two of you were face-to-face, that wild glint you saw earlier was still apparent in his eyes. but his usual lazy smile returned as he apologized and rubbed at the spot where the car door handle was digging into your skin.

you can’t seem to recall your return home, and even then, you only remember jo haphazardly unlocking his door as you clawed at his t-shirt to take it off. you were still oblivious then to what the night actually held in store.

you’re brought back to the present when jo’s arm suddenly wraps around the front of your shoulders and chest and heaves you up. now, your back is arced backwards, and the slight shift in angle causes you to mewl in pleasure. you’re starting to see white spots in your vision with the way his thick cock stretches your walls apart and pokes at new spots in you that you’ve never discovered yourself.

between pants, jo gulps and asks, “what are you thinking about? am i that bad?”

you want to object, but then he gives you a harsh slap to the ass cheek with his other hand that effectively silences you.

“princess, i won just for you, so give me some attention, yeah?”

you manage to choke out, “for me?” jo reaffirms by pulling almost all the way out, leaving only his tip inside you, and then thrusting himself in again heavily with force so strong you feel it rattle throughout your body. you’ve always known your boyfriend is strong, but today’s fight and sex have exceeded your expectations. you cry out shamelessly and cum unexpectedly that even jo releases a guttural moan when your pussy clamps down on him, and he also finishes.

you collapse onto the bed. faintly, you hear jo apologize, “shit, sorry, babe. didn’t mean to cum inside of you.” he helps you roll over so that you’re lying on your back, and picks your legs up to slide you fully onto the bed. you think it’s the end.

but suddenly, the bed dips at where your feet lie, and your legs are pried apart. jo lines firm kisses along your inner thighs, and you whimper at the feeling of his fingers playing with your folds. he slides the fingertip of his index finger up and down between your folds, causing you to jolt whenever he flicks at your clit.

“jo…,” you whisper. you rest your hands around your boyfriend’s neck, holding onto him in hopes of grounding yourself.

“how about one more, babe? just one more,” he pleads, transfixed at the sight of your messy, wet pussy. his want hasn’t been satiated. he needs to feel you one last time. he begs again, “i won’t put it in, i know you’re sore. i’m going to clean you up, alright?”

the feeling of his warm tongue against your hole erases all of your thoughts and concerns. he’s careful, aware that you’re spent and overstimulated, and he laps at the mixture of his and your cum spilling down and onto the sheets. when he feels your body tensing up, he pauses and presses feather-light kisses instead as he waits for you to relax once more. he then mouths at your folds, sucking one into his mouth and licking softly, then switching to the other. you’re both moaning at the sensation – you because every suckle brings you closer to your high and him because you taste, smell, and feel so sweet and delicious against his tongue. finally, he reaches the top and spreads apart your lower lips with two fingers, admiring the sight of your pert clit throbbing in anticipation and need.

you groan, eager and impatient, when jo stares for too long. you scratch at his undercut to get his attention and whine, “jo, hurry! want your mouth on me!”

obediently, he dips down and gingerly kisses your bud. you shiver at the light touch and cant your hips upward, urging him to continue. jo resumes, alternating between gentle pecks and quick sucks of your clit, which leaves you writhing and compounds your arousal. occasionally, he even hums, and the vibrations pinch at your bud and you yelp in surprise every time. you’re no longer holding onto his shoulders – you’re grabbing and tugging at the curls of your boyfriend’s hair and pressing your clit against his mouth and nose, desperate for release. jo supports your movements as his large, calloused hands cup your ass. lastly, jo adds in his tongue. the erratic, unpredictable switching between all of the different ways he can tease your oversensitive nub quickly sends you over, and as you scream and cum, your thoughts are fully consumed with the sensations of his mouth drinking up your release and his nose nudging against your clit to extend your climax. you’re wantonly rubbing yourself against jo, smearing your pussy messily against your boyfriend’s face, and your eyes roll back as he just takes it and laps at what he can.

“you’re so fucking good to me, princess,” he moans into your pussy. from his words, you feel one last crashing wave of your orgasm, pleasure overwhelming you for a little longer, before it begins to subside.

seeing that you’re coming down from your high, jo pulls away. he licks at his lips, savoring the remnants of your high, and watches as you begin to drift off. jo himself is finally feeling the drowsiness and settles next to you.

even as you’re losing consciousness, he whispers, “this is the best reward, baby.” you nuzzle into his warmth, mumble something incoherent, and fall asleep.

[fatuismooches]

Self-indulgent Omega fic to help turn my writing brain back on, inspired by this brainrot. He is referred to as 24 in here as fragile reader hasn't named the segments yet. You two aren't the closest yet, but a chance encounter with the segment begins to change that. (I will respond to asks... eventually).

After a few centuries-long coma, when you woke up, the hardest thing to process wasn't that fact. It wasn't the fact your lover, who now went by "Dottore" instead of "Zandik" was now a powerful Harbinger. It wasn't the fact you had to deal with this illness for who knows how long (actually, this was quite hard to process, but you tried your best not to dwell on it.) Rather, it was the fact that Dottore now had copies of himself running around. And if you were to properly adjust to your new life, you absolutely had to make room for them. But that was easier said than done.

They were all Zandik, but at the same time, they felt like strangers to you. They were familiarly enigmatic as you had remembered the original one, but you weren't sure if you were good enough to puzzle each of them out all over again... However, pursuing Zandik as a student meant that you certainly were a persistent soul, so you would try!

One of Dottore's segments that you were trying to crack was named 24 (he hadn't bothered to give them names for some reason). 24 was tall and imposing, authoritative even among the segments, despite their tendency to bicker with one another. He was also different from the other segments in a way, but you couldn't put your finger on what exactly it was, for some reason. Needless to say, intriguing (just like all the others). Unfortunately, your attempts to move this relationship forward weren't going the smoothest. You found that even building up your courage for numerous minutes still resulted in a dry throat and awkward moments of the segment looking at you expectantly.

However, that would change one night.

Sleepless nights were frequent when you were a student, but they seemed to have followed you even all this time later. At least, instead of studying and dealing with assignments, you were left to stare at the ceiling in peace or pull out a nice book to read until you became sleepy again. But this time, no option satisfied you. You wanted company. And so you set off to find Dottore. The walk was always nice, but it seemed like you were more tired than you thought, as you eventually realized you were definitely not going the right way in the maze of a building, evident from the recognizable doors of one of the main labs.

Well, you were already here, and you didn't want to walk all the way back. You should just enter and loop your way back around somehow. Judging from the silence on the other side, there was most likely no one else there either, which was good for you! And so you pushed the doors open, intent on entering until you saw him.

24.

He sat there unmasked, screwdriver in hand, carefully tweaking himself, a few other tools to the side as well. Wait, a screwdriver to his face? You squinted a bit more and that's when you realized he... had no face? Well, kind of, he had a mouth and squishy cheeks, but the upper half was replaced by mechanics instead. A gleaming red gem in the middle along with blue wires made up 24's face in replacement for actual eyes, You had no clue that this was what he really looked like.

You were a mix of shock and awe. It was surprising but you supposed you should have expected the segments, who weren't human, to have some features like this. And didn't Prime say 24 was the most recently made segment? More recent, more advanced, you guessed. But you also had a feeling you really shouldn't have walked in on this, so you should leave while you still could. Maybe 24 didn't notice you yet-

"It's awfully past your bedtime, isn't it, [Name]?" 24 hummed, continuing whatever modification he was doing calmly, not the slightest bothered by your intrusion, or by the fact you saw his face. You wanted to retort with something, but your usual attitude with Zandik seemed to die down around this individual that you had yet to become fully comfortable with.

"I could not sleep. So I took a walk." You glanced away from 24, then back at him. "What... what are you doing?" You asked, curiosity overtaking your nervousness.

"Simply performing some routine maintenance. I will be finished soon, and then-"

"Can I see?" The sudden, rather eager question from you, made 24 pause. You had always been quiet and a bit jumpy around him, so this sudden change in attitude had him interested. On the contrary, he thought that seeing this inhuman face of his would make you keep your distance more, but it attracted you? Not what the segment predicted, but he found himself enjoying the surprises you brought with you.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of the old days of helping Zandik put together and apart various contraptions. It was a mixture of 24's display and also the star in the middle, which reminded you of all the Ruin Guards you'd dissected in the Akademiya. It was quite fun. You wanted to see more. Hopefully, this could be a splendid opportunity to satiate your inner researcher and also get closer to the segment.

"Of course, if that is what you'd like." You walked up to him, steps full of caution yet fascination. The way his fingers maneuvered effortlessly with precision at something that appeared delicate - it was very cool, to you at least.

"You don't need a mirror or anything?"

"No, I know my body more than well enough."

"Do you have any sensation up there?"

"Yes, I can feel my own fingers when they brush against it."

"Can I touch you?" Though 24 had entertained your barrage of questions, it was this request that made him pause his work and stare at you. The red star that glimmered intensely at you suddenly made your nervousness go all the way up again.

"I'm sor-"

"Very well," 24 interrupted you, placing his hands on his lap, now looking at you expectantly. You held back a sigh of relief as you stepped even closer to him, giving his upper mechanical face an experimental tap. He didn't react outwardly, but you could tell he felt that. Gulping, you tried again, this time gliding your finger over the blue lines imprinted on the black background. And then the red star in the middle, you gave into the urge to press down on it like a button. Still, 24 seemed to be unbothered. Darn, you had hoped he was ticklish there or something.

Regardless, the area was pretty hard, compared to the softness of his cheeks, which you unconsciously slid another finger down to calculate the exact difference. Until a hand grasped your own, not too tight or too light, firm enough to make you jump.

"[Name], would you care to explain your reasons for such prodding?" Oops. 24 didn't seem very amused.

"I have no intentions, I am just interested in feeling you." As soon as the words came out, you realized how they sounded and rushed to clarify yourself. "Because I've never seen anything like this before! The technology is just interesting to me! As a scholar and all! You understand, right?" But alas, from the now growing smirk on his face, you had already lost.

"Is that so? I shall allow you to continue then, if that is what you wish. I would never block a fellow scholar's pursuit of knowledge," he grinned, pointy teeth grazing his lip as he let go of your hand. Ugh, he was definitely making fun of you.

"And, if you truly desire to obtain satisfactory results, you should come closer, no?" At that moment, the segment suddenly pulled you toward him so that you fell into his lap, legs draped over him and chests nearly pressed against each other. It was rather intimate - the only other lap you've been on was Prime Dottore's. But although your heart was beating quicker than normal, you liked how it felt...

"Better?"

"Yes," your lone word came out quiet, an attempt to hide your flustered state. But you quickly moved on, not wanting to endure further teasing. "S-So, how do you see? Since you have no... you know." 24 chuckled, relishing in the state he and he only reduced you to. But he decided to spare you this one time. He didn't want to drive you too far away now, did he, now that he finally had the chance to be alone with you.

"I have a Kamera installed inside."

"A... Kamera?" The unfamiliar word felt strange on your tongue. You never heard of such a thing.

"It is a device that takes photographs. A photograph is..." 24 pondered, trying to come up with the simplest definition for someone who hadn't had knowledge of the developments of the past four hundred years yet. "It is something that captures a moment of time in physical form." You furrowed your eyebrows at that. It sort of made sense, but it also didn't. How could time be permanent? From the expression on your face, 24 could tell you most definitely wanted to see a Kamera.

"I shall show you it-" you brightened up, "in the morning," and then deflated. "You have delayed far too long, and no one will let you sleep in." You pouted at this finality.

"But what if I want to stay with you?"

"I will accompany you back to your room, and wait until you fall asleep. Is that satisfactory?" You nodded, and then you were lifted into the air as 24 began to carry you effortlessly, making his way to dreary corridors.

And so you began to reflect in the segment's arms, which had gone from never touching you to holding you so intimately. You were surprised to see this side of the segment - you never thought he could act this way. But you suppose, if Dottore cares for you, then the rest of them really do as well.

"We should talk more," you said, just as he slipped you right back into bed. "It would be fun, I think." You don't know why you felt the need to provide a reason, perhaps because he was undoubtedly extremely busy and had better things to do than chat with you all day. And ugh - "fun"? That was such a stupid reason. Why would 24 care about fun? But he seemed to find your request attractive anyway.

"I have harbored the same sentiment for a while. I await our future conversations with great anticipation, [Name]." With a light feeling in your heart, greatly proud of yourself for your progress with the segment, the sleepiness began to settle in once more. The last thing you saw before you fell asleep was the red glow emitting from 24.

From the day he came into this world as 24, to the day you named him to live and die as Omega, he will love you.

[winterarmyy]

Never Lie To Me

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Y/N's sinful thoughts towards the Asset is reciprocated.

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x hydra agent!female!reader

Words: 3.4k++

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, purely smut and lack of plot, honestly. messy writing and lack of dialogue, sorry for that. Others may include probably incorrect russian due to the use of google translate, marking kink (if you squint), metal hand kink, finger-fucking, clit spanking, unprotected sex, creampie, soldat doesn't talk much, i figured he is more reserved but that doesn't mean his actions are (*wink wink*) he is kinda rough but the reader highkey loves it, just bunch of horny pent-up mfs getting some action for once, y'know.

Inspiration: "Cause I can see you waiting down the hall for me and I can see you up against the wall with me." – I Can See You (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N didn't understand why was she sent to this field mission. There were literally dozens of others that were much suitable to do it and yet they chose her of all people? Considering her much leisure job for the past months, which basically just to guard a lab, Hydra seemed to forgot that her body have been lack of combat practice.

She hated this. This mission. This organization. All of it.

Y/N was one of those kids that Hydra stole from the orphanages for their Phantom program; it is where they train, or accurately brainwash, the kids into highly skilled assassin. And she was one of the top 5 out of the program in her batch.

But after a certain incident in one of the mission in Peru, she was temporarily relocated to Siberia to, as they say, "recover" before they can assign get into another mission. There, she was given a much lenient task, which was to guard the lab where the Winter Soldiers were created.

Those few months was both heaven and hell for her; heaven was that she didn't need to be soaked in the blood of the innocent lives and hell was that she had to be a bystander to the cruelty of the dehumanizing process of the Winter Soldier program.

Sure, everything Hydra does to its "followers" are, by nature, imbrute. I mean, she was trained like a dog since she was but a child, but this. This was just another level of evil. Such vile and merciless thing to do to another human being. The muzzles that Hydra shoved in their mouth doesn't really help to reduce the excruciating noises that they made.

Though, while she was physically forced to witness the atrociousness, there was one constant thing that kept her mind off from it all.

They call him the Asset. In fact he was the first one. But she'd rather think of him simply as a man sleeping in a cryo chamber.

Y/N had heard of this "monster", the rumours were terrible as they come and go, but she find it hard to believe that when the soldat had such a calm and kind expression on his face, even if his features were frozen in ice. That was her first impression of him; then day by day, and what felt like ages, she watched him.

Her curiosity got the best of her when she started to think of scenarios and possibilities that the man had quickly became her escape from the horrid reality around her.

Though she spend most of her time trying not to feel it, but the other times, well... the thoughts went a little wild. At one point, they got too personal even for her own mind to comprehend.

After a month of reporting at the new post, she heard the whispers of "thawing the asset" from other agents and scientists around the lab. And surely enough, one of those day, the soldat was brought back from his slumber.

It didn't cross her mind before, of what color laid behind those closed lids. But when she saw his eyes for the first time, she was in complete awe. They were blue as the vast ocean she once jet-skied over; but they were as cold like when she stepped foot at this snow covered facility.

The contrast of his dark hair and tanned skin only makes his bright eyes to become the most prominent feature on his face. And Y/N just couldn't tear her gaze away, especially when the Hydra agent that supposed to retrieve him was making such a big fuss over how slow the soldat was reacting to their commands.

What do they expect? He was literally frozen for lord knows how long just a few seconds ago. Everything must be dissociating for him. So of course, the man's mind and body needs time to adjust.

The soldat abruptly fell on his knees after exiting the chamber, causing one of the guards to strike a kick across his face, "вставай, паршивая собака! (Get up, you lousy dog!)"

And that was it, Y/N had enough of it, "Hey!" she shouted as her stomped towards the guards. The duo quickly stood straight and showed their respect to her; knowing that those who graduated from Phantom program has higher ranking than them.

The moment Y/N found her footing in front of him, the palm of her hand landed harshly across his face, "Do you realized what you just did?" She asked as the taller regained to his prior composure.

"That man!" She pointed at the soldat who was obediently sitting on the floor, "Is Hydra's most prized asset. He alone is worth thousands of you useless scumbags. And you had the audacity to lay your hands on him?!" She roared and the lab fell into silent.

The two guards can only bite on their own tongue knowing what she said was true. The soldat was in fact the Hydra's precious weapon, as for now that he was the only one who successfully weilded the super soldier serum in his veins.

Y/N walked around and stood in front of the soldat, "Are you hurt, soldat?" she asked as her gaze fell on him. His head was hanging low as he bored his empty eyes into the shine of Y/N's black boots; he shook his head and replied, "No, ma'am"

She knew he was lying, especially when she saw the drips of blood on his pants, "Look at me." She ordered in which the soldat complied. And there it was, the source of the mess, the red cut on the corner of his lips. Her frown only deepened when the bruises were slowly forming on his cheek bones.

Y/N crouched to his level, as her hand reaching for his cheeks. His body halted and stiffened when she approached, but only to be surprised by the soft carress of her fingers on his face, "If you're not injured, then what's this?" She whispered lowly; a tone where just the two of them can hear.

The soldat's empty eyes almost melt in hers; he never saw her before, who is she? Why was there so much kindness in her eyes? And why was she holding him so gently?

He let her careful thumb wiped the blood from his chin before whispered again, "Never lie to me, soldat. Do you understand?"  The soldat obediently nodded as a spiral of indescribable emotions stirred within him. His eyes lingered at the way her lips formed into a soft smile, "Good." She praised.

Since then, the soldat's gaze had remain on her almost all the time. From the moment she threatened the two guards, to the time she looked away from the tortured candidates of the Winter Soldier program, to this very second as she undresses every part of her suit.

Though the mission was a success however, their plane was utterly wrecked by an unforeseen mini gun. So they were forced to walk through the snow storm and find shelter at one of Hydra's safe house.

It was not rare for the soldat to be paired with other agents on a mission but never with a woman. Much less the pretty little bunny that he had been obsessing over. Ever since that incident, the soldat often think of her. And he really tried too keep everything professional but something within him changed lately.

One particularly distinct moment that he experienced that made it clear to him; it was when he was waiting in the hall for his handlers to drag him around the facilities, and she happen to walk towards him from the opposite side. And when he brushed pass her, he noticed how his hands was itching to grab her by the neck and push her up against the wall.

As if there was this strong urge to claim her, mark her, fuck her. That was when he realized. The soldat wanted her. He wanted ruin her for everyone else. He wanted her to be his. But, he knew they keep watchful eyes on him. On both of them. And he can't risk that.

But now that she was standing right in front of him, in her underwear no less, how was he supposed to control himself?

Y/N turned her attention towards the soldat, he stood absolutely still that she almost thought he was literally frozen, "Why are you not stripping? Even with that super soldier serum in you, I doubt that you don't feel cold from those snow-soaked clothes."

Maybe it was the dim-lit room, but she swore that the soldat eyes darkened when she walk towards him. Especially when his eyes ranked the way her wet undergarments stick onto her skin.

How many times did she fantasize about the way he was looking at her. How many times did she made herself cum from the thoughts on grinding her cunt into his metal fingers.

Too many to count.

Especially when, in her head, she could see him in his suit with his knives, she could see him throwing his black mask on the floor, she could see him bending her over to his will, she could see him make her want him, crave him, need him.

And whenever their eyes met, she often think of the what-ifs between them. Like, what would he do if she went to touch him now? What would he do if Hydra never found them out? What would he do if they never made a sound?

What would he think if she made him her own personal addiction? Then will he entertain her fantasies by making her his own secret mission?

"Remember what I told you, soldat?" She asked as her hands reached for his mask.

Without hesitation, the soldat replied, "Never lie to you." as his face was bare for her to see.

Y/N took a step forward, so close that he could almost feel her skin on him, "Now tell me, what do you want?" Her eyes found his diluted ones as he lifted his gaze from her cleavage to meet hers.

His cock was rather truthful even from the beginning; now more than before when it twitched painfully in the confinement of his pants. The soldat hissed to the feel of it before he confessed, "I want you."

Y/N couldn't help but to smile, "Then, have me, soldat."

That was all he needed to hear. Her permission to have her, to own her. Then, very next second, he had her body pinned firmly against the wall, his lips on her soft ones, his wet tongue exploring in her mouth.

The soldat had his metal hand gripping the back of her neck, not wanting that pretty head of hers to hit the wall; while the other hand unabashedly teared the bra off from her body.

Breaking the kiss, the soldat's lustful gaze watched how her breasts became bare for him. So pretty and perky. His cock twitched madly as if it was ordering him to touch them, suck on them. And he did just that.

The soldat took her right nipple into his hot mouth while his free hand pawed on the other. Y/N moaned lewdly at roughness of his hand and mouth. When she threw her head back, that was when she saw it. At the corner of the room, she noticed a CCTV camera directly situated towards their direction

She grabbed a handful of his long hair, and lightly tugged him back but he refused to stop sucking on her. Y/N huffed when she whispered, "They're watching us."

That was when the soldat quickly released her from his mouth and quickly hovered his huge body over her, he growled possessively as his quick eyes scanned for all the nearby camera.

Y/N chuckled amusingly at his reaction, "Do you not like it when they watch us?" She teased. The soldat growled again as he pulled her closer, her nipples perked even more now that they touched the cold fabric of his clothes, "Mine. Mine alone." He declared.

Y/N looked up at him with a pair of seductive eyes, "Then, what are you going to do about it?" She taunted. The soldat swiftly pulled his knives out from his thigh strap and threw it directly at the lens of each camera in the room. Now no one would have a chance witness her divine body, or see what her face looks like when he make her cum.

There weren't much of intelligible words that came out of his mouth after that, besides the grumble noises of the word "mine".

The soldat latched her mouth onto her skin, particulary around her neck, collarbone and the valley of her breast. He kissed and licked and sucked to leave his mark on her as his metal hand dug into her hips.

Meanwhile, the flesh of his right hand slide right into her panties. He fingers trailed the outer slit of her cunt; as if he was purposely teasing her, "Зайка (bunny)" he groaned against her neck when he felt how wet she was. She squirmed needily under his hand, when his middle finger poked her entrance while his thumb grazed across her clit.

"So wet, all for me?" He purred as his finger slowly dug into her hole. Y/N whined and grabbed his wrist before he could go any further, "Want your metal fingers, soldat." she slurred deliriously; already drunk with his touches.

It took all his might to not fuck her right there and then when she let him have her. The soldat wanted to treat her gently, prepare her sweetly. Now that she had confessed such sinful desire, something in him just snapped.

He pulled his hand out, and effortlessly ripped her panties from her body before lifting one of her legs up, pushing her thighs towards her body. She yelped at the sudden roughness, embarrassment crept across her spine when the soldat licked his lips at the sight of her cunt, wide open for him.

"Want my metal fingers huh,  Зайка (bunny)?" He trailed his metal fingers along her wet hole, "You got it." He abruptly shoved two of his digits into her, causing her to let out a loud gasp at the sudden intrusion.

The soldat didn't give her time to adjust, he simply pulled his fingers out to the very tip and thrust it back into her. And he does it again, and again and again. Until the pain turn into sheer pleasure.

When her eyes rolled back and shut close, the soldat growled disapprovingly, "No. Don't close your eyes. Look. Look down. Watch how your wet little hole take my metal fingers. That's it. Look at you. Fuck. Look. At. You." His pace didn't lose its rhythm when he fucked his fingers hard and fast; he curled them just right every time he hit that deep spot inside her.

His metal fingers was better that she had ever imagine, and the sight that she was looking at was so lewd that she was already so overstimulated from it, then when his thumb circled her clit, she thought she was seeing actual stars.

Streams of fluid was squelching everytime he shoved his fingers knuckles deep into her, that it trickled down his hand. It was so messy and the soldat loves it. He want her to be this messy all the time. He wanted to clean her up with his tongue. Lick every drip of her sweet fluid, swollow it like he was thristy and she was water.

At the this point, he would be willing to stay on his knees if it means that he get to have her cunt on his mouth always.

The soldat growled at the way she moaned so shamelessly at how harsh his fingers was violating her sweet pussy. He kept on rubbing on her clit and watched her body shuddered when he slap on it. Seeing her reaction, he continued to spank her clit and he fucked her harder; one, two, three, four, until she cried out a long moan and her pussy gushed with her creamy cum.

And seeing how her body trembled, her cream dripping out onto his hand, the soldat almost combust in his pants. Though apart of him wanted to feel her sweaty skin on his own, another just wanted to feel her warm pussy.

So, instead of wasting more of his time undressing himself, the soldat hurriedly unzipped his pants to release his aching cock out. He pulled his finger out and licked her cum clean while his other hand lazily pumped his leaking length, "Taste so good, Зайка (bunny). Bet you feel good too."

Y/N whined at his action, he looked so hot and bothered. And something about him fully clothed while pumping his needy cock for her; it just drives her to near feral. She let out an exasperated gasp when the soldat maneuvered her legs to cling around his waist, while his hand gripped on her hips. Her voice then stuck on her throat when he thrust his cock deep inside in one stroke.

His size was stretching her out so much that it burned, a good type of burn; in fact, the best type. The soldat on the other hand almost burst his cum the moment he entered her. She felt so good. Better that his rough hands when he jerked off to the though of her. But he was determined to make her cum on his dick before he get his own high.

So without letting her adjust to his size, he slowly pulled out and harshly slammed right back into her; fuck does it feel so good. And her mewling so needily for him does not help the situation at all. He repeated the same thing over and over until he managed to suck up his need to cum, then fasten his pace. And the sound of her wetness rubbing against his cock when he pounded into her was so damned and sinful, that never wanted to forget.

Her back repeatedly hit the wall from the force of his thrust that she needed to hold on his shoulders for support. His pace was fast and deep, almost erratic. Her moans broken when she felt the tip of her cock ramming at her womb, her walls clenching in delight to welcome such huge and hot length inside her. Every stroke was perfect and if she had no self-control she would be cumming each time the soldat forced his cock into her.

His hips slapped against her and she eagerly followed his every thrust, desperate to meet his skin as much as he was for her. And when she looked up to him, the soldat was looking directly into her. His ocean blues dove into her soul as his grunts tangled with her cries.

His breathing stuttered and his pace flatter. She could tell he was getting close. But, the soldat refused to; not until she cum first.

In and out. In and out. His pace became brutally delicious. Her nerves were stretching so good that her toes curled and that was when she felt the coil forming. Short needy pants left her lips, each one was a sign that she was getting closer to ecstacy, "I'm cumming, soldat. Please,, don't stop."

The soldat groaned, "Don't hold back." He pounded into her impossibly harder; and the delicious drag of his cock continued to punish her into pure ecstasy, forcing her cum to leak out and lather around his throbbing length, "That’s it, Cum for me, Зайка (bunny). Cum for your soldat,, ahh fuck so tight, i'm cumming too, ahh." The soldat chased his own release as continued to thrust inside her clenching hole.

"Fuckkkk i'm cumming inside you, Зайка (bunny). Will mark you mine with my cum. Ahhh ahhh fuckk", the soldat moaned to the addictive feel of her cunt milking him, and soon after when it hits him, his cock throbbed wildly as his cream leaked from the tip, endlessly filling her womb full with his warm cum.

Y/N whined to the amount of warm fluid spreading inside her. And when she thought his slowed thrust was a sign of an end, she couldn't be wrong. The soldat slowly pulled his cock out to the very tip, just pound it back into her. He groaned at the sight of his creamy cum spilling out, circling where his cock was stuffing her. Then he does it again, and again.

Until she started to moan for him, "hmmm,, s-soldat?" She hoped that he would explain himself.

His dark eyes only glint with lust and greed when a small smiled curved on his lips, "Oh, Зайка (bunny), I'm not done with you until I mark every part of you as mine."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: This scene has been played out in my head the whole day when Speak Now (TV) came out. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this short read! Drop some thought behind for me would you?

[ataraxiaspainting]

Do you have any blog recs? :>

i've been waiting my whole life for this moment!!! 👀

please respect their rules if you plan to interact with them!

*~*~*~*

@ddarker-dreams (yan multifandom) - her writings have given me more happiness than literal puppies. yan chrollo is such a magnificent bastard and bf blade is just my everything. she's so lovely and smart too!

@teabutmakeitazure (yan multifandom) - my platonic wife. her brainrots are everything to me, and she made me like a certain ginger twink (a federal crime) again after not simping after him since like... 2021.

@brynn-lear (yan multifandom) - their drawings/writings are so good!! i will die for the update of their whodrankit game. definitely worth it!

@the-saltiest-saltine (yan multifandom) - i love their matrimony series :0 (only accessible on ao3). they haven't been online as of late, but i still recommend their god tier writing!

@after-witch (yan multifandom) - her writings are actually not fanfic, but actual horrifying stories. i feel so bad for the reader at the end of each and every one of her works. they'll all make you feel emotions you didn't know you could feel because of creepy fictional men.

@stickyspeckledlight (yan multifandom) - her vocabulary is actually insane, and i feel like every time i read a fic of hers i learn something new (either about the series, about the character, or just general facts about the english language lol). her yan aventurine needs a kick in the balls and a hug at the same time.

@dear-yandere (yan multifandom) - another writer whose literary skills are out of this world! her yan harbinger headcanons are my fav :D

@harmonysanreads (yan genshin/hsr) - her alhaitham brainrots... 🩷 her fics make me want to either say "aw" for the fluff or "run" for the yan ones (in a good way of course <3). i love her and her massive wrinkly brain.

@shumidehiro (yan multifandom) - her yan pantalone is so charismatic and her yan capitano makes me feel kinda bad for the guy... :O

@uvobreakmylegs (yan multifandom) - one of the amazing faces of yan hxh. her stories are so wild and most times disturbing (in a good way). my inspiration for many fics i have done and will eventually complete.

@arias-diaryy (yan multifandom) - SO. MANY. IDEAS. aria is so funny and her writings just paint the phantom troupe is such a creepy cringefail way. reader definitely deserves better. not that i want them to have a better life lmao.

@veilofaponia (yan multifandom) - every time i read their works it feels like i'm reading a fancy poem. so good.

@envy-of-the-apple (yan multifandom) - reading their gojo series makes me have a whole enemies to lovers arc in my head because i am not the biggest gojo fan by any means. i went from "i hate gojo" to "i hate gojo" (buys merch of him and rereads the sun eats moon series). amazing stuff.

*~*~*~*

this list may be updated as time goes on! :D

[astervoidtheartist]

yapper and listener duo!!

I've been so obsessed with TWDG for months and months and months on end. It's rotting my brain more than the walker corpses. I've been doodling the characters a lot lately so here's a big collection of drawings! (I love Louis so much it's indescribable oml)

(Same goes for Kenny, he's my bae)

Click read more to hear my ramblings about the art and TWDG in general lol (SPOILERS)

I genuinely am so heartbroken that Telltale isn't making anymore of these wonderful games. TWDG series is the first to ever make me sob, anytime Lee appears I do in fact cry my eyes out and it's such a beautiful story they've created here.

This may be an unpopular opinion: I do not hate Lilly. She is awful, don't get me wrong. But I love her as a villain, and I do feel sympathy for her. (Will never forgive her for Carley though, can forgive her for James because I'd rather him be dead than hate me lmao)

I went with Louis' "route" (if that's what you'd call it) because I love him but I also love Vi so I'm gonna replay the whole game to do her's. The piece where I drew them was inspired by that one scene where Louis asks you why you saved him over her and then goes on about how he loved annoying Violet and making her do that one eye roll lol

Also I love Kenny :( At the end of season 2 I had Clem and AJ go without him so I wouldn't have to see him die but I think I might replay it where we go with him so I can get just a smidge more content of him lmao.

Anyways thank you for reading my rambles, I don't have anyone to talk about this game with please suggest me to draw more people from it and yap about it to me ;(

[sylacris]

— chrysanthemums.

elbert greetia x gn! reader

content: sfw ; angst ; character study ; mild(?) spoilers for william’s route ; victorian flower language ; self indulgent (screw plot)

(partially) inspired by: tonight you belong to me by patience and prudence

word count: ~754

a/n: first ikevil fic, trying to wrap my head around the characters …

Of course Elbert knows you belong to Will.

After all, you were the most beautiful when you're with him. He's seen the image many times throughout your stay in the castle. The way you light up when William enters the room, the lift in your voice when speaking to him, the love in your eyes when William is reflected on it.

The way that William is the reason for your beauty.

If the gods pried into his brain and search for the question he's asked the most—the question thought to himself in fitful nights of longing and early morning blues, something that even Elbert feels guilty of admitting through words— it would be:

Why?

Why you? Why William? Why not him-

That was the thing he has been trying to find the answer for ever since his own eyes landed on you that night. A robin caught in a gathering of villains, like a single white rose in a bush of red. He had almost wanted to pluck you and keep you to himself. Until William’s voice chimed in, recognizing you, and you, who shared the same sentiment.

A month passed by in a blur, it was easy for Elbert to get lost in time. But he would always remember the determination in your eyes in that meeting regarding the papers detailing the “crimes” of William Rex. Your eyes shone with a beauty brought out by the King himself.

You'd almost caught him marvelling at the sight of you.

He wanted to help, one way or another. However, the Crown could not move under the name of the Queen, or in large groups due to the risks in secrecy, so he asked Alfons to act in his stead.

“Your ability is suitable for infiltrating the enemy headquarters… May I trouble you to go with them?”

In the end, he's aware of why it was William you chose. It was a fact that he knew deep down in his heart, something he'd rarely acknowledge and yet will resurface everytime his mind wanders to the thought of you.

William Rex is everything that Elbert Greetia isn't.

And in that very fact alone lies Elbert’s own tragedy. One that'll slowly eat him up from the inside until there's nothing left but the remains of a monomanic yearning.

Not every beautiful thing could be his, Alfons would poke in the playful manner that he usually dons. But perhaps his words do hold weight in this situation.

It's alright, he can settle for watching from afar.

(No he can't. His curse could never allow it. He wants, he wants, he wants... And that was how his destiny wrote itself in tragedy.)

Elbert knows of the fact that he's awful at suppressing his tendencies. Hands that can't be kept to himself, always wandering to something he'd desire, it was usually a question of when he'll have it- rarely a question of if, up until now at least.

Those same hands that desired more, now held yours in a slow waltz.

"Al informed me that William went out on a mission... I was… quite surprised to find out that you did not come along with him."

"It's because it's quite late, and William insisted that I stay behind tonight."

step, step, step.

A dance across the garden, that was his invitation. Indulging in the opportunity that arose in William's absence. It was Elbert’s own way of satiating his want.

(though it will never be enough)

Some part of him feared that by interacting with you like this, he'd yet again desire for more. More than a longing stare across the dining table, more than a dance in the garden, more than just his hand in yours.

“How about you, Lord Elbert? You seem troubled these days.”

“...Ah, how so?”

And just as both of you reached the middle of the pavilion, you let go. The coldness setting on his hands faster than he'd like in the absence of your warmth.

And in the next breath, you'd take your leave- greeting the wistful earl a goodnight. Heels clicking as you step out of the pavilion and into the moonlight, until you were nothing but a distant figure, one he did not take his eyes off until you'd reach the confines of the castle, your silhouette disappearing from his sight

And once again, he stood alone in the garden pavilion.

The yellow chrysanthemums looked bitter under the moonlight, and he knows that those same flowers would never bloom in an azure hue.

© sylacris. 2024 —

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

right here

pairing || soft!matt x fem!reader (comfort)

wc || <1k

summary || Matt comforts you during a depressive episode

warnings || depression & nudity (no details and not in a sexual way)

a/n || wanted to create something like this for a while, little self indulgent oops, will probably regret uploading it in the morning lmao. this felt way more intimate to write as appose to my smut. but if you relate, im sorry and i love you💌

masterlist + rules

taglist

*inspired by this gif*

Days like this were unbearable, the constant looming feeling; a dark gloomy relentless cloud that paralysed you. Your energy, or lack thereof, was something you had to preserve. You had to save it for mundane tasks that right now felt unattainable.

You spent most of the day rotting in bed, staring aimlessly at the wall, the pillow wet from your never-ending tears. You had been emotionally blocked for a couple weeks, but today, it was as if some awful button had been pressed that made you feel everything you had been blocking out.

You had been sitting in the corner of the shower for about forty minutes now, your legs curled up as you rested your chin on your knees. You thought you were able to manage it, but as soon as you started you just gave up. It made you hate yourself for not being able to do such an easy thing- but it really wasn’t that simple.

Silently choking on your sobs as the water ran down the front of your hair along your face. The steam of water felt like a bubble around your head like it blocked your ears finally making your mind quiet.

You didn’t even hear the front door open, nor the sweet greeting from the man you love.

Matt heard the shower running and instantly went to listen behind the door to check you were okay, considering that you usually reply to him when in the shower. His heart began to race once he realised the water had been making the same flow sound for over a minute- immediately thinking the worst.

He gently knocks on it, but with no reply, he knocks again but a little more eagerly this time. He values your privacy, but right now he just wanted to see if you were alright. Opening it, deflating inside when he realised what was going on.

Kicking off his shoes getting into the shower fully clothed, and sitting down next to you. He felt his heart crumble for you to be this way. Draping his arm over your shoulder while his other hand laces into yours, silently telling you that he’s not going anywhere.

He wrapped his arm around your head as if to shield your ears from the hateful words coming from your brain.

It was an unspoken understanding. Whenever you both felt this way, you’d be right there offering one another your support. Given the fact you both struggled with depression, in a sad way it made you understand each other in ways no other could.

Sitting together like that for a while in comfortable silence as the steady stream of water fell onto each of your heads. He waited for you to initiate the separation, not wanting to let you go too soon.

Lifting his hand that was still connected to yours, placing a delicate kiss on the back of it, as if to say ‘thank you’.

Matt took that as your sign to let go, he didn’t want to smother you or somehow make you feel worse. Releasing your head from his biceps, kissing the crown of your head as he cupped your cheeks.

Struggling to remove his soggy blazer, throwing it into the sink with a sigh. He delicately twisted you around so that you were facing away, sitting on his knees behind you. Picking up the shampoo bottle from the floor, gently lathering it into your hair. Rinsing and repeating, before carefully combing conditioner through your knotty hair. He began washing you with your loofah, being extra vigilant not wanting to distress you. Washing your face for you, as you sat there blankly. Rewarding you with a kiss on the forehead.

He reached over to grab the towel, wrapping you in it as if you were the most valuable thing on earth, sitting you on the toilet seat lid as he quickly washed himself.

Stepping out, he led you through the apartment to the bedroom, gesturing for you to take a seat on the bed. He quickly dried himself, throwing on some pyjama bottoms before he dug around for yours. Patting you dry, placing the t-shirt over your head and slipping your shorts on.

He knew you so well, that he knew what order to do your skincare. Following your routine, gently swiping everything onto your skin, before he dried your hair.

Carefully pulling you up the bed, he covered you both with the blankets, wrapping his arm around your head once more, allowing you to cuddle into him. Kissing your forehead again, stroking over your arm as he hummed you to sleep.

[lunafoster]

Oh No (part 3)

AN: Guess who’s back! Yeah, it’s me heh. Guys I’m so sorry for abandoning you for a year, everything has been a bit hectic with my family and my studies and stuff, still is, but I’m trying to manage my time better (key word: trying). Anyway, I leave you with another part of Oh No because I was somehow able to watch ESC again this year and my brain rot came back, gifting me with a smudge of inspiration that I had to wring out as much as I could.

Warnings: none I think? Bad English (I’m sorry, I promise I’m trying), implied thoughts (iykwim), I don’t know if there are any curse words here but I warn y’all just in case.

Pairings: Bojan Cvjetićanin x fem!actress!reader + a tiny bit of Bojan x Käärijä + a tiny bit of Käärijä x fem!actress!reader

Words: 1700+

Part 1, Part 2

Without further a due, here is part 3! Hope you enjoy!

As soon as Jere woke up, his first thought was about having lunch with Bojan and the Slovene’s girlfriend. His stomach did somersaults at the idea.

He cursed to himself when he took a look at his phone, seeing that it was later than he would’ve wanted.

He got ready as quickly as he could, taking a little more time choosing his outfit, since he wanted to look presentable and, when he was done, took everything he would need to go out and exited his room.

He knocked twice on Bojan’s room door and waited patiently (not) for someone to open the door.

“Just a second!” He heard a feminine voice from inside, sounding breathless.

The girl opened the door with a smile on her face and Jere couldn’t help but notice the light freckles across her nose bridge and cheeks. Since when did she have those? He hadn’t noticed the night before.

“Sorry, we slept in,” she said sheepishly.

“Don’t worry.” He smiled back.

When he looked towards the rest of the room, he could make out Bojan putting a shirt on and closing the closet door, smiling at Jere when he noticed him.

“Good morning!” The Slovene exclaimed cheerfully while the girl went towards the bathroom.

“Just gonna put on some makeup to fix my zombie face,” she excused herself.

“No need fix,” Jere murmured under his breath at the same time Bojan grumbled something along the lines of “what zombie face? You look like a princess in the mornings”.

She giggled cutely and singsonged a “thank you boys”, making the two men flush and widen their eyes at each other.

Bojan and Jere looked at different restaurants in the Slovene’s phone to decide where they would go beforehand while the girl finished up in the bathroom.

Exiting the hotel lobby with both Bojan and his girlfriend made him feel floaty and he couldn’t keep the dopey smile out of his face, small chuckles leaving his throat at any stupid comment one of them would make.

~~

She couldn’t help but smile as soon as she woke up, the warmth enveloping her being way too familiar for her not to know who it was embracing her from behind.

The girl stretched and snorted when Bojan grumbled something incoherent, a bad headache probably on the way to full development after the night before.

“Good morning, my love,” she whispered against his temple before kissing the warm skin there.

The grumbles grew louder in volume and she chuckled, amused, getting up and heading for the bathroom.

Finishing her morning routine was easy, as she had been doing it automatically for years. However, the fact that there was a dull ache at the back of her head made her choose to be safe and not sorry, taking out a couple of pills and swallowing one herself.

The girl took the room card and, when she was out in the corridor (pyjama-clad and all), she fist bumped when she saw what she caught a glimpse of the day before: a water fountain -with paper cups and all!

She took one of the cups and filled it with fresh water, making her way into the room again and leaving the glass and the pill on the bedside table for Bojan.

Then she checked the time.

“Shit!” She turned towards the bed and climbed on it, gently shaking her boyfriend awake. “Come on, my love.”

“Nooooo,” he whined, “five more minutes.”

“We’re gonna be late for lunch with Jere,” she explained, making him sit up instantly.

“Ugh, my head hurts,” Bojan complained, running a hand down his face and messing up his already messy bed hair.

“Swallow this, it’ll help.”

“You’re an angel sent from Heaven, dear.” He kissed her cheek and took the pill with a big gulp of water.

She chuckled while searching for something cute to wear, deciding on a floral dress, to match the spring weather (although cold, so a jacket would have to do).

There were knocks on the door and she laughed at Bojan trying to put on clothes quickly while getting detangled from the bedsheets.

~~

They finally found a restaurant they all wanted to try and they were lucky enough to be told that it wasn’t full.

“What are you gonna order?” The girl asked her boyfriend, a small pout on her lips when she couldn’t choose just one dish from the menu.

“Probably the chops,” Bojan answered.

“Of course, you Balkan dad.” Her chuckles made Jere smile with a confused tilt of his head.

“What is Balkan dad?”

Both the girl and the Slovene crossed glances and started full on laughing, a couple of heads turning in their direction.

“It’s a stereotype,” she started, but continued explaining when he just stared at her, “apparently, all dads in the Balkan countries behave the same way; and that includes loving barbecued meat!”

“Ah,” he let out eloquently.

The conversation kept flowing after they ordered their food, the sound of their amused laughter filling the small restaurant with lively energy.

“I do! I love Rammstein!” She tried to convince the other two after Käärijä mentioned his favourite band.

“There’s no way, I’ve never heard you listening to them, ever,” Bojan countered

“That’s cause I always wear headphones, duh!”

Jere was wheezing when they kept going back and forth, his cheeks hurting from how much he was smiling that day.

He chanced a look at Bojan when he couldn’t hear them arguing anymore and caught him staring with a soft smile.

“What?” He couldn’t help but ask. The smile on the other man’s face grew wider and he flushed a little.

“Nothing.”

“For real though.” The girl seemed to not have seen any of it. “A lot of people on TikTok edited me to Sonne when the last episode of The Enemy came out.”

“I get it,” Bojan agreed, suddenly, “The Enemy was way too good and the vibes of that song kinda fit.”

When Jere didn’t answer them, the Slovene turned to him with bright eyes and started explaining the plot of a show his girlfriend starred in.

“Stoooop, stop it, Bojan.” She pushed his arm as if to get his attention. “That’s enough, you don’t have to tell him everything.”

Her face was so red, and the rapper stared at the way her eyes seemed shinier.

“She looks beautiful when she blushes, right?” The Slovene teased when he saw the face Jere was making.

“No! Yes, yes,” he stuttered, blood running towards his face, “very pretty.”

She blushed harder at the comment, her eyes looking anywhere but at the two men.

“Okay, that’s enough, the both of you,” she stammered out, a small smile on her lips making it obvious that she wasn’t mad.

“Sorry, love, can’t help it,” Bojan said with a childish grin.

The conversation went towards the rehearsals and the schedules the Slovene and Fin had the next day, trying to make plans to hang out but finding they couldn’t due to everything being overlapped.

“Excuse me, I apologise but we really need a table and, since you have finished already, would you mind continuing your conversation by the bar or somewhere else, please?” A waitress asked them politely with a sorry smile on her face.

“Sure, sorry miss, we’ll be leaving now!” She announced with a flourish.

They kept discussing the next days’ schedules and ended up with a dinner plan and the idea that the girl could take turns to see the both of them during the day, as she insisted on watching them both practice.

“So, Jere, up to join us for a Netflix and chill session?”

“Bojan!” The girl stared at her boyfriend, bewildered, frantically looking around the lobby of their hotel to see if anyone else had heard.

The expression on the Fin’s face must have told the other man that he actually knew what that meant and a smirk started stretching Bojan’s lips.

“Just kidding,” the Slovene singer relented after a good laugh.

“We could watch something on Netflix, though, if you want, Jere.” The girl smiled at him, a pink hue decorating her cheeks.

Käärijä chanced another look at Bojan’s little smirk and looked away immediately after they crossed glances, slowly nodding at the girl and following the couple towards their hotel room.

He was sure Bojan knew that something was up with him, and he worried a bit (a lot) about making the other man uncomfortable.

He didn’t want to lose their friendship just because he developed a small (?) crush on him and his girlfriend. However, he told himself it didn’t seem like Bojan was mad at him; in fact, it looked exactly the opposite, as if the other singer wanted to get a reaction out of him.

He didn’t want to speculate or overthink too much, though, so he let it be for the moment.

When the subject of his thoughts opened the door with his key card, he immediately regretted his decision. There was no way the three of them would fit in that bed.

“Do you guys want snacks? We can order room service- or… didn’t we have a bunch of chocolate stuff around here somewhere, babe?” The girl started walking around and searching for something in the small fridge.

“What do you wanna watch?” Bojan asked him with a small smile directed towards his cute (what? Stop it!) girlfriend.

“You want, is fine,” he answered, trying hard to control where his eyes went.

When the girl stood back up with a quiet ‘aha!’, Bojan had already decided what to watch, setting up the laptop.

“Guys,” she started, biting her lip, “shouldn’t we at least change from our outside clothes? We sleep there, Bojan.”

“That’s very true.” He raised a hand towards his face and pushed away his hair, leaving it tousled (cute- no!). “Do you want some of my clothes, Jere? So that you don’t have to go all the way to your room.”

“Okay,” he said, ears flushing at the thought.

The girl went inside the bathroom with a set of clothes and Bojan handed him a pair of sweats and a black shirt with a smile, turning around and starting to take off his own clothes.

“Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look!” He told himself, widening his eyes and quickly turning around, changing as fast as he possibly could.

AN2: hope you enjoyed it! If you want any more parts, give it some love!

[sophelisticated]

I know nobody follows me yet… but I made… someting for @bamsara, they don’t like being idolized but they are so cool to me they are my INSPIRATION. Shakespeare hangs its head in shame at how good Bam’s writing is

Anyway I made dis, it’s a oc insert in bam’s rehabilitation of death fanfic! It’s not very good, but I awoke in the night and brain exploded in ideas.

Word count: ~1.2k

(SPOILERS FOR THEIR FIC, PLEASE BE WARNED)

-Sleep Like the Dead-

The One Who Waits is patient. It’s in his title. Even so, ever since the entrapment of being in this mortal, lowly body, his… ‘nightmares’ have become more than a mere nuisance. Narinder has awaken with more bile in his throat, more of his godly blood spilled from his eyes. And most importantly—he has grown more irritable. The lamb had noticed that the god of death’s patience for their silly rants have been shut down sooner than usual. Though Lambert has pressed Narinder for information, the vessel is met with a sneering cat showing it’s back to them.

It was a night such as all the others. The former god of death sat in his bed, meditating, but found himself distracted. He did not want to go to sleep, but he felt tired. His ego already shattered from being in a mortal body, he felt himself even more pathetic. A god being scared of some mere ‘nightmares’? It made him cringe at himself. But he knew that even if he slept, he wouldn’t gain anything out of it. His mind cannot escape the traitor. The lamb. That wretched, awful excuse for a vessel.

But the exhaustion tugs at his eyes. And he complies quietly, though irritably. He lays down, and lays there with a grimace. Simply waiting until he falls unconscious.

He lays down at the trunk of the tree.

“Do not wander.” Narinder says firmly to Baal and Aym. They nod and go scurry off. They have been adapting well to the cult. The flock have been teaching Baal and Aym routines, but today? They get to wander. Narinder looks up at the beautiful tree he lays up against. The purple bark complimented its leaves and flowers. This year, it has exploded in color, more than it usual would. White leaves paired with multicolored flowers. The grass is warm underneath him. And strangely enough, it doesn’t decay. And he’s actually happy about that fact.

He looked out into the distance with a small hum of relaxation. He sees Baal stuffing flowers in Aym’s collar, and they go running off into a chase. But not too far. Just as Narinder asked.

“Is it nice?” A soothing voice comes from his left. Narinder doesn’t jump, nor get surprised. Like he somehow knew she was there.

It was a bird. A peacock. Her white plumage glittering in the sunlight, but glowing more on the rainbow feathers on her tail and the primary and secondary rainbow feathers on her wings. The flowing white dress she wore went further than her feet, but she walked with grace. The white dress did not get any grass stains as she walked from behind the tree. She nestled next to Narinder at the base of the purple tree. Her caring, rainbow eyes scanning his form. Whatever the peacock is thinking, the cat cannot place it. Her wings fold at her sides. He answers back in a casual tone. “I enjoy it. I get to have some privacy from the lamb.” He scoffed. The peacock chuckled softly at his words. “It must be frustrating. Even having him plague your dreams. Thankfully, he is not here.” She speaks gently, tilting her beak at him. Narinder opens his mouth to respond, and he feels a lot heavier as he processes her words, and then becomes aware of his surroundings. He narrows his eyes at the peacock, but finds his body too fuzzy and warm to move away.

“This is not my memory. Who’s memory is this? I don’t-“ “Tis no memory. Never was, my dear.” The rainbow stranger cuts him off with a gentle wave of her wing.

“I am Oneiros. I am the representation of dreams, imagination, and creation.” She says calmly. Narinder notices that his body had relaxed, and his mind calmer. Something about her voice. It just made him calm. He stared at her for a long minute. And she simply stared out at the fields.

“Have you come to torture me in my sleep, as the lamb has?” The god of death glowers at Oneiros, but the glare doesn’t have the fierce energy he wants it to. It doesn’t particularly matter though. She just hummed softly at his words. “No, One Who Waits. I believed you needed a fulfilling rest, a rest filled with softness and warmth.” She spoke patiently, plucking a couple of flowers and beginning to make a little banquet. But gods cannot dream. He knew that for certain. This woman spouts lies, manipulating me into getting me think I can trust her, until-

“I do not lie.” She interrupts his thinking. He snarls at the reminder that his thoughts aren’t safe in the dreamworld.

“Yes, gods cannot dream. But in special circumstances, i can bless them with a dream. The circumstances I will not share with you, little cat.” Oneiros booped his nose with a rose. Narinder snarled, swatting the flower away. “Are you mocking me?” He sneered, and Oneiros made a squawk of laughter. “No, dear. I like giving my dreamers nicknames. Little cat will be yours.” She hummed, her eyes upturned with light humor. The god of death sneered again. He bristled, his tail spiking in irritation. “I shall pluck your feathers out, one by one, if you ever call me that again.” He snarled, his tail whipping back and forth with attitude. She chortled in amusement. “I have worse nicknames, my dear. But I will just call you ‘cat’.” Oneiros hummed. He huffed, but didn’t comment any further. His usual malicious tendencies were toned down more in this realm, he felt less argumentative, he noticed. The peacock then handed him a mini banquet of multicolored flowers. Flowers of such bright colors, he assumed they were exotic.

“I will come again when you are at your lowest. For this safe haven will always look different each time you are here.” She cooed. Bowing her head to Narinder. He took the flowers, and they didn’t wilt, even if he wanted it to. The peacock huffed at his attempt. Not upset, but a tad disappointed at his attitude.

He then heard the yelling of voices familiar. He had seen them earlier, but now that he is more aware, he stills at the sight of Baal and Aym playing in the flowers. He is silent for many heartbeats. The pair stare at The One Who Waits, confused.

“Are they here?” He asked gruffly, but there was a tone of longing in his voice, which he cursed at himself for letting slip out. The question didn’t make much sense, but Oneiros understood. The rainbow peacock took notice of Narinders uncertainty. Almost desperation. At this, her eyes softened in pity.

“No, sweetheart.” She said gently, a motherly air. She put a wing on his shoulder, the softness of the feathers slightly against his cheek making him swivel his head to look at the bird.

“Nothing in this realm is real. I’m sorry, dear. Wake up, and be refreshed.” Oneiros commanded, blessed. Brushing her rainbow wings against his forehead, and his insides felt fuzzier. The warmth of the grass becoming unfocused as he felt his body drop.

He slowly sat up, and he checked his face and sheets. No bleeding. And he felt better than he had in weeks, probably even months.

He didn’t find the company unpleasant, Narinder just wasn’t used to it. He felt like he could handle 20 hours of the lambs rambling, and 10 minutes was already straining it. So to say he felt better was an understatement.

He’d be hoping to visit that realm again soon. Maybe see if the rainbow peacock has any insight on what to do when godly power is shared between two people.

[corrienteallita]

I'm back...?

Sorry for being gone for so long, but you know how life happens! The flu really knocked it out of me, then we ended up gutting our living room and completely redoing it.

THEN we went away for a lovely week somewhere hot and sunny.

And then, despite having a lovely time away, depression is a right old cunt and sneaks up on you at the most inopportune times! It happens when life is going well and you think you should be happy with everything, but NOPE. And the fact that it comes at a time when you feel like you should be happy makes it worse, because then you feel selfish for being depressed because why should you be? Life is good.....well, apart from that stupid imbalance of chemicals in your brain that tells you you're worthless, you're a burden and you DESERVE to be unhappy and suffer because you're an awful person.

But the depression ebbs and flows - I think I'm coming out of the other side for now?

In terms of sims... I've been poking around with a build for a few days. I've not been inspired to do many makeovers or gameplay. I might wait for the new pack to come out, and see what that brings (other than probably disappointment). Maybe I'll do a little love themed let's play, who knows?

I've mainly been playing Stardew Valley, because HOT DAMN that game is amazing. I've been playing it on PC and switch. The switch is nice because it's so portable, but gosh darn do I miss the Look Up Anything mod and the Range Highlight.

I've had some asks in my inbox for a while, so I will get round to those eventually!

Sorry, this post is long enough: TLDR; I'm lurking. For now. Watch this space 😘

[dreamyelectronicmusic]

I'm loving your Wilmon fic so very very much! I was feeling mostly done with YR and all related media and ready to let it go - in a happy, pleased-with-season-3, it's all wrapped up and my hectic job is demanding my attention way - and then it was like your fic just broke through my walls and reminded me why I fell in love with the show and its characters. Your Wille and Simon are so good to each other. Their anticipation and nerves and exhilaration as they begin to reconnect - it's everything.

I was surprised to see it's your first YR fic! I'm curious about your story of finding the show - when did that happen for you, when did you first feel inspired to create this beautiful extension of the YR world?

Aw, thank you so much for this lovely ask, I'm so happy you like the fic! 💜💜

I discovered YR literally on day one! Or even before day one, because I remember scrolling through Netflix’s coming soon page and watching the teaser. I remember thinking it looked like an Elite-type trashy teen show but that I would probably watch it because it’s Swedish (I love Nordic languages). Then on July 1, 2021, at like 10 pm, I was looking for something to numb my brain and YR popped up on the Netflix homepage and I thought, oh I think that's the Swedish show I said I’d watch, let’s give it a try. So I watched the first episode and needless to say it did not numb my brain, I was immediately hooked. But I decided to be responsible and go to bed, and I watched eps 2-4 the next day, and then the day after that was a Saturday and beautiful weather so I went on a hike, and all the time I was trudging up hills I kept thinking “omg omg Wilhelm and Simon are so cute and August is such an asshole omg omg what is going to happen I need them to live happily ever after”. So yeah, I’ve been obsessed from the start 😂

I was never inspired to write fic for it before because I tend to prefer canon to be complete before I write anything, but mostly because I have this weird mental block about reading/writing fic in a different language than the one I consumed the original in. It just doesn’t sound right! (I watch the show in Swedish with English subtitles, so I want fics to also be in Swedish with English subtitles. Yes I know it doesn’t make sense). I guess the inspiration for ‘maybe now’ was strong enough for me to overcome that but tbh it still doesn’t sound right and I have to do weird mental gymnastics to write it 😂

Inspiration for the fic struck very shortly after the show, this is a post I made on March 19:

Ok so who's writing a fic where Simon didn't notice Wille running after the car, or noticed him but couldn't bear to talk to him again, and they have no contact for a year until Wille's decision to give up the crown is made public on his 18th birthday, prompting Simon to reach out and tell him how proud and happy for him he is?

And then I guess I didn’t wait for an answer and wrote it myself!

The inspiration came from the fact that while I love the ending we got and I am so happy that we got it, I do agree with people who think that it was rushed. Given what the first 17 episodes were like, we got the best possible episode 18, but in an ideal world, I would have liked another season, or the three seasons to have more episodes, or the episodes that we got to have a different pacing so that there was more time between the breakup and them getting back together. This is what I wrote in a reaction post after the first five episodes:

If this weren't the last season, I think I'd want them to break up now, take some time apart and get back together after some separate personal growth. But there simply isn't time for that.

One thing about me is that I love it when characters go their separate ways, have some separate growth and find out that they can live without each other, but they just really don’t want to. So in a way it’s a kind of fix-it fic for me.

Anyway, thank you for the ask and sorry I wrote a novel in response!

[ndrayton]

Ghost Stories Postmortem!!!

It’s me, FieryGaze!!! Now that Chapter 13 is out and posted and my brain has freed up about 75% of its RAM, I wanted to make a post just to reflect on the journey, drop some fun facts, & explain the intent behind some of my choices. Here they are in no particular order.

Spoilers beware, obviously. I'm going to be talking about the whole fic here.

Episode Titles

Each episode title refers to two things at once – the monster or challenge the group is facing, plus one other important thematic element. “The Demon King” is the simplest one, referring both to the actual Demon King and then to Kim Dokja gaining that power for himself. The others are a little more open to interpretation, but were chosen with the intention of referring to 2 specific things.

Constant reappearance of the number “Thirteen”?

I’d like to say there was a lot of thought behind this, but there wasn’t. I just went “ooo, unlucky number” and ended up repeating it as often as possible. 13 years since KDJ and HSY met; 13 years spent in the spirit world chasing the Endless Cycle; 13 loops before KDJ met YJH. It was a lucky coincidence that the chapter count also happened to be 13 (I’d initially planned for twelve, and everything that happened in Unseen World was supposed to be squished into the end of Infinite Loop Part II. When I realized that was absolutely NOT going to give me enough space to resolve everything, I was delighted to realize that I could make the chapter count 13 and have it be thematically relevant and Not just a case of poor planning).

Lee Seolhwa also states that the number 7 is significant for certain spirits. I just think it’s fun that the total chapter count ended up as 13 and the total Episode count as 7.

Perspective and Tense Changes

From the beginning, the use of first person was actually a bit of a false flag—it’s meant to represent the ghost of Kim Dokja, trapped in the loop, imagining himself as the living version of himself going on these adventures. Kim Dokja as the narrator states this outright.

It was about time I stopped pretending that “I” was really this person called Kim Dokja. (Ch. 11)

Maybe I pretended for a while, for a long while, that it was really “me” who was fighting at your side. (Ch. 13)

The first person narration also tends to flip between present and past tense, especially in later chapters when Ghost!KDJ begins using second person to refer to Han Sooyoung and Yoo Joonghyuk, but also when he’s making general observations about the world. It’s not technically grammatically correct, but I was trying to grant a small step of separation between him and the other characters, whose perspectives are written more strictly in third person past tense.

The final monologue is also in present tense, unmooring it from the sequence of events of the story, hopefully making it feel a little more dreamlike/internal. I feel like I’m allowed to mess with tenses this much only because it’s an orv fic and I’m not afraid to get meta.

I also used present tense during almost all of chapter 10. I wanted it to feel like a whole separate fic-within-a-fic, and a lot of fanfic is written in present tense, so I was deliberately evoking that (including See You Yesterday, undeniably a MAJOR inspiration for this chapter). I also wanted to provide a sense of immediacy—Yoo Joonghyuk truly believes that what he’s experiencing in the dream is really happening to him, right now—that I could pull back on once he realized he was dreaming, returning to past tense and the main flow of the larger story.

As a side note, by the time I finally finished chipping away at chapter 10 I thought it was awful, so I was surprised and delighted when it became everyone’s favourite chapter, lmao. This is probably why people have beta readers, to get a little bit out of their own heads. Anyway, the positive response to that chapter really brightened my week.

… My favourite scenes 😊

The first scene I really had a blast with was probably the possession scene—what can I say, you don’t make a “Paranormal investigation AU” without wanting to play with a few of its standard tropes. That’s when I realized I could happily keep writing this fic for as long as it took to finish it (I initially planned for 2 months. It became 4.)

I also had such a fun time writing all of “Blank Message”, from the kids bullying poor Dokja to what amounts to me basically just drawing hearts around Yoo Joonghyuk’s name as he fails to use technology but also gets to be the most specialest boy in the world. That episode practically wrote itself, honestly. I accidentally wrote like 12,000 words of it in my phone notes app because I kept having ideas at work and had little else to do during our slow season.

My actual favourite scene, though, might be Yoo Joonghyuk cooking in Han Sooyoung’s kitchen in Ch. 12? I just thought it was sweet. Maneuvering those two into a position where they could be emotionally vulnerable with each other was a challenge. My notes for that section are funny to me, I’m just struggling to get to the heart of the scene and yelling at them to please be emotionally vulnerable.

... There was like 500 more words of this.

I can’t help but feel the yoohan corner of yoohankim got a little neglected in this fic, but it’s because they had so many unresolved issues that I couldn’t just leap ahead to the romance angle without first addressing them… and by then the fic was kinda over. Please understand, however, that they love and understand each other deeply despite (because of??) being the way they are. Maybe I’ll explore that more in future stories. Who could say.

Most challenging part to write?

Wrong Room Part II, Forgotten Boy Part II, and the first bit of Devourer of Dreams Part II before Kim Dokja showed up (it was way easier to write once he was there because the joongdok dynamic really pulled the plot along).

All three of these had significant rewrites and Forgotten Boy Part II took me like… an entire week to figure out. The Part II’s tended to be tricky because that’s when I was making all the setup from Part I pay off, but I wanted it to be engaging and exciting and not feel too paint-by-numbers. I learned a lot writing these!

What was Yoo Joonghyuk saying at the end of Blank Message that got censored?

“▪▪ ▪▪▪ ▪▪▪▪▪▪ ▪▪▪ ▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪ ▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪ ▪▪ ▪▪▪▪▪”

“Do you really not remember…”

Well, maybe you can intuit the rest from context clues (what Mia was saying just beforehand).

There was a bunch of other censoring when Kim Dokja was trying to explain to Yoo Joonghyuk where all his special knowledge of the time loop came from, but I didn’t actually note it down as it was all pretty much able to be inferred, like “the loop is actually based on a book series”.

There’s certainly more to find, but that’s all I have to say for now!

I fun with foreshadowing, but I’m not going to call out anything specific, because I think it adds to reread value. There’s an especially mean bit of “foreshadowing” in one part that had me absolutely cackling. Let me know if you find it.

Anyway!

I had no plans to put so much time and effort into writing fanfic this year, and yet here I am with 120,000 words in four months, which is… FAR AND ABOVE my normal writing pace, especially lately. What can I say? Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint is a really special story and I don’t have any friends who have read it, which put my brain into an absolute pressure-cooker for which the only release could be writing orv a novel-length love letter.

I’m seriously thankful for everyone who read the story and left so many emphatic, excited, and kind comments. The readers absolutely transformed this experience from something I was plodding away at by myself just to see if I could do it into something I was really excited to share with others, and as a result I put a lot more effort and care into the story.

I do have a few other ideas for this AU—for which the seeds are actually already planted in the story—but, as I mentioned in my author’s note, I desperately need to take a fanfic break for a while. I can’t promise if/when I’ll get back to it, but I would definitely like to at some point.

IN ANY CASE, FOR THE LAST TIME ON THIS ADVENTURE….

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[karahalloway]

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 11 - Cold Light of Day

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: It's the morning after the night before, and Drake does some reminiscing...

Word Count: 3,500

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, angst, awkwardness, references to masturbation, obsessive-compulsive drinking)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: So... This was not what I was supposed to be working on 🙈 My plan was to finish up Part 3 of Thanksgiving so it could be my submission for this year's Flufftober, but - as per usual - my brain (and my characters - thank you, Walker!) had other ideas, so here we are 😅

A/N2: I had 90% of this chapter written before the start of the summer, but then my inspiration kinda fizzled out, and I only finished it very recently. I was then umming-and-ahhing about whether to wait to post until the next part was also finished, or whether to split the content into two chapters. I went with the latter. Next chapter should be posted soon, though! Thanks for bearing with me! We're almost at the end (I know I keep saying this, but I can officially see the light at the end of the tunnel now!)

Chapter 11 - Cold Light of Day

My eyes snap open.

And just like that, I'm back on top of the hotel room bed, staring up at the ceiling, my hand wrapped around my still-pulsing dick.

Fuck.

I've never tripped out like that before.

Sure, I've dived down the rabbit-hole of a fantasy or two before. I mean, what guy hasn't? You're not gonna jack off staring at your own schlong, and if porn isn't available, you're gonna make up your own.

But to lose myself in the warren of make-believe so completely? To the point where the line between fact and fiction dissolves and I've lost all sense of direction?

Never.

Though I guess I now know what The Matrix feels like...

As if to evidence the point, I feel the end-results of my feverish daydream slide down my hip.

I swallow a groan. Great...

Yet another reason why I'd wanted to avoid flying solo. Because in addition to the sour taste in your mouth, you're always left with a God-awful mess to clean up... Especially if you hadn't had the foresight to grab a towel beforehand.

Which leaves me with an unenviable choice: make an awkward dash to the bathroom while trying (and most likely failing) to contain the dog's breakfast sitting in my lap; or repurpose something to act as an impromptu rag...

...though one downwards glance quickly narrows my options.

Definitely Option 2.

Unclenching my cum-covered hand from my junk, I carefully balance on an elbow as I reach up to grab the collar of my t-shirt. Because given the extent of the damage, there's no way I'm making it to the sink without some serious casualties.

And I'd rather sacrifice the shirt off my back than the one pair of jeans I'm going to have to travel back home in.

Decision made, I pull the t-shirt over my head, lowering myself carefully back against the headboard so I don't accidentally capsize my payload onto the covers. Because that's definitely not something that I have in me to deal with tonight.

Scrunching the cotton up, I wipe my hand before reach down to begin cleaning myself up...

...and nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of the loud rap on the door.

"Room service...!"

"Shit!" I cuss under my breath, tossing the ruined t-shirt onto my duffle while grabbing for my jeans as I roll of the bed.

Yanking the denim up as my bare feet hit the floor, I quickly secure the fly and top button with one hand while scrambling for my wallet with the other. "Two secs!"

Locating the well-worn, hand-stitched leather on the bedside table, I flip it open and extract a couple of notes for the tip. Throwing the wallet back onto the bed, I do one last visual sweep to make sure that everything was kosher before—

Knock-knock-knock!

"I said I'm coming!" I holler back, wrenching my belt through its buckle as I make my way across the room.

Sweet Jesus! Hold your fuckin' horses already!

Reaching the entranceway, I snap an irate hold on the door handle. Wrenching it back, I come face-to-face with the impatient staff member who's gearing up for yet another round of aggressive knocking.

"Oh!" she exclaims in surprise, her fake-lash enhanced eyes going wide. "I—"

"No need to wake the whole damn neighbourhood..." I tell her tersely. "I said I was coming."

She flushes scarlet, not quite knowing where to look. "Sorry... The... umm... the doors are sound-proofed, so I... I couldn't—"

"Never mind," I grunt, pulling the door wider so she could wheel the food in.

She stares at me like a newborn calf seeing a fence for the first time.

I quirk a brow. This girl high, or something?

But just as I'm about to open my mouth to say something, she snaps out of whatever trance she's stumbled into and quickly refocuses her attention on the task at hand.

Stepping back, she reverses the service cart slightly so she can angle it into the room...

...and she still manages to hit the door frame on the way in.

The contents of the trolley jerk with a loud rattle and I have to snap a hand out to save the bottle of whiskey from crashing onto the floor.

"Christ alive..." I mutter under my breath.

"Oh, my God!" she gasps, face going red. "I am so s—!"

"I'll take it from here," I tell her, throwing the whiskey under my arm as I snatch the clonche-covered tray off the trolley while it was still in one piece.

"But—"

"Thanks," I say firmly, holding the tip up with an uncompromising look.

She glances at the notes almost morosely before reaching out to take them with a sigh. "Is there anything—?"

"Nope," I say, moving to close the door back 'round. "I'm good."

"Okay..." She heaves a breath as she begins to pull the cart back into the corridor. "Well, if you change your—"

"I won't," I assure her, flicking the door closed as soon as she's cleared the threshold.

Jesus... Talk about incompetent.

Retracing my steps, I deposit the tray onto the bed and reach for the whiskey under my arm.

Unscrewing the top, I tip the bottle back, not bothering with a glass from the mini bar.

The sweet sting of the amber liquid hits the back of my throat, and I suck it down, feeling the familiar warmth snake its way through my insides.

God, I needed that.

I take two more generous swallows — after the shit way the second half of the night had ended up unfolding, I'm seriously overdue some Southern comfort — before pulling the bottle back down and re-attaching the cap.

Chucking the bourbon onto the covers, I detour to the bathroom to wash my hands properly before sitting down on the edge of the bed and lifting the clonche.

The smell of grilled meat and salted carbs plumes out into the room, and my stomach growls in response.

Fuck, I'm starving.

Grabbing the burger with both hands, I tear into it viciously. The smoky flavour of the beef hits my tongue, followed quickly by the creaminess of the melted cheddar, and the tang of the pickles.

And even though it's not quite as good as the one I had back at the dive bar, that doesn't stop me from wolfing down another ravenous bite before the first one's cleared my gullet.

Because given how hard my body's craving the calories, even a tub of caviar would've tasted like ambrosia right now... And I fuckin' hate caviar.

Gulping the mouthful down, I grab a handful of fries and throw 'em down the hatch as well, barely pausing to chew before I swallow.

This ain't a high society dinner, so fuck table-manners.

Chowing down on the food like it's my last meal on Earth, I polish off the plate in record time, even wiping up the wayward bits of relish that had escaped the bun with last couple of fries...

...and am rewarded with a loud belch for my efforts.

I scoff. Probably shouldn't've eaten so quick...

But what's done is done. And my body sure as hell feels the better for it.

Sucking my fingers clean, I reach for the bourbon again. Taking another swig — much more measured this time — I drop the clonche back into the now empty plate and move the tray onto the upholstered bench that sat at the foot of the bed.

Glancing down at my watch, I can see that it's just coming up to 5am.

Which means that dawn's right around the corner.

I glance briefly at the bed.

But I know there's no point.

Because as exhausted as I am, I know I'm never gonna be able to nod off. Not this close to departure time. I'll just be staring at the ceiling, counting the minutes 'til my alarm rings.

Especially since the sun's about to come up. And when that happens, there's no way in hell I'm catching any shut-eye. My circadian rhythms are too well-tuned for that.

So, closing the bourbon back up again, I push myself heavily up from the bed. Making my way over to my duffle for the third time tonight, I extract my last wearable shirt.

Pulling it on, I grab my phone — no urgent messages or missed calls, thank fuck! Though the battery's on the verge of dying...

But it's gonna have to suck it up in power-saver mode. Because I only have a handful of self-imposed fiats that I live my life by. And top of the list is never leave anywhere without my phone.

Ever.

I learnt that lesson the hard way...

And I'm not about to break my cardinal rule. Especially not after Chris' disappearing act last night.

So, dropping the device into my pocket, I reach for my sidearm — another thing I never go anywhere without. Slotting it into the back of my jeans, I grab the keycard and exit the room again, not bothering with shoes.

I'm not plannin' on being gone long. And my feet could do with a break after racking up some serious miles over the past 24 hours in my boots. Plus, it feels good to let my soles run free — especially since I can't go for my usual barefoot run on the beach here.

But given that I have nothing better to do, and the TV had let me down earlier, I may as well take advantage of this brief moment of calm to do something that I actually enjoy.

Making my way up onto the roof — via the lift this time because I'm in no particular rush and I've already more than surpassed my daily step count — I push the door open and step into the twilight.

As expected, the roof is empty.

The lights of the skyscrapers twinkle in the distance, the buzz of the traffic merely a faint drone at this height.

Making my way over to the eastern corner of the building, I park myself next to the edge...

...and wait for the sunrise.

At first, nothing happens. The dark of the night sits heavily over the island, seeming to muffle the normally inexhaustible energy of the City That Never Sleeps.

But slowly... ever so slowly, the sky begins to lighten. And the wind shifts. From the depths of the evening's humid, slightly stale breeze comes a fresh, easterly gust that carries the soft scent of the sea with it.

It whips over me, cutting through the thin material of my shirt. But I don't flinch. If anything, I lean into it, savouring the faint taste of salt on my skin.

The black of the horizon gives way to blue and then to grey as the rising sun pushes the darkness back. Spots of colour appear — gold, russet and magenta, framing the clouds like a backlight.

And as I watch, the first tendrils of brilliance start to creep over the buildings, setting the acres of glass on fire. The wind begins to warm, bringing with it the promise of tomorrow...

...until the sun finally bursts into view, scorching the Big Apple in the blaze of the new dawn.

I heave a deep breath of the crisp morning air.

This. This'd been worth staying up for.

The last vestiges of tension drain out of my shoulders as I simply stand, taking in the view...

...and realise that I can't remember the last time I stopped to just enjoy the moment. Be it a hot mug of coffee, or the breeze on my face. Let alone the silent beauty of a perfect sunrise.

I exhale heavily.

I've been so caught up planning every aspect of this trip — not to mention the details of the social season with Bast — that I haven't even had time to think about taking a break, let alone catching one.

It's probably why I—

"Couldn't sleep either?"

I scoff at the sound of the familiar — and not entirely unexpected — voice from behind me. "Nope."

"Jet lag still?" asks Chris, coming to stand next to me.

"Probably," I shrug, keeping my gaze turned towards the horizon. "You?"

He heaves a breath as he surveys the sunrise. "Bit of jet lag as well, I suppose..."

I glance over at him.

We both know that ain’t the whole truth. Just like neither of us are under any illusion that my answer hadn’t been completely honest either. But we've known each other long enough that neither of us feels the need to press the issue.

So, it goes unsaid that I'm fully aware of the fact that Chris' sleepless nights are caused by the looming spectre of the social season, which has been haunting him for the past year. And, with just one day to go, that spectre's about to transform into a living nightmare.

And there's nothing that either of us can do about it.

Because the die has been cast — by forces outside of our control — and both of us are now stuck on the proverbial highway to hell with no exit ramps in sight.

And I hate that feeling of helplessness. Not just on my part — though it grates on me no end that I can't save my brother from his predetermined fate — but on his part as well. Because even though Chris wears the mask of obligation like a second skin, he can't hide the fact that he's shitting a brick.

At least not from me.

Because despite all his years of diplomacy training, we've played enough poker together for me to know that behind that stoic façade, he's terrified. Terrified of the weight of his inherited duty, terrified of falling short of expectations, terrified of ending up on the same error-ridden path that his dad had trod.

But, most importantly, he's terrified of making the wrong choice. Because even though he knows each and every one of the suitors who'll be competing for his hand, that knowledge doesn't make things easier.

In fact, just the opposite.

Because regardless of what each woman brings to the table in terms of money, ability, or allegiances — a dizzying and convoluted cost-benefit calculation at the best of times — the fact remains that none of them are really in this competition for him. They're in it for the Crown. Which means each option's just as relative as the next. As none of the women actually care about Chris. They just want the title of Queen. Or rather, their families do. For the bragging rights.

Except maybe Livy. She's arguably the only suitor who's putting her name in the hat because she actually wants Chris for himself. And couldn't care less about the social promotion.

Too bad she's a class A bitch.

Not that any of that matters. Because the hunt for the next Queen isn't about love, or what people want, or any of the rest of that touchy-feely crap. It's about what's best for the kingdom...

...irrespective of what's best for Chris. Now, tomorrow, or twenty years down the line.

As he's just as much of a pawn — if not more so — as the women competing for his hand. And unlike Leo, he doesn't have the luxury of flipping the system the bird and calling bull on the whole fucked up exercise. Because there’s no one else to fall back on. It’s him, or nothing.

So, it's small wonder he's been burning the candle at both ends, trying to avoid being alone with the weight of his thoughts.

Hell, if I was him, I'd've disappeared down the neck of a bottle long ago.

As if reading my mind, Chris magics up a a pair of tumblers. "Here," he says, placing them down between us. "You look like you need it."

A scoff escapes me. "Didn't think they had a bar up here."

"Invitation only," he winks, unscrewing the cap of the 25-year old, single malt bottle of The Glenlivet that he's also brought with him.

"Comes well stocked, I see," I remark, watching him dole out a generous serving into each glass.

"Well, someone once told me to never cheap out on wallets, watches, or whiskey," he replies with a smirk, placing the bottle off to one side.

I shake my head with a scoff as I reach for my glass. "Yeah, 'cause the first holds your money, the second tells you the time... and the third'll help you forget about both."

"Truer words have never been spoken," grins Chris, raising his glass to clink it against mine.

"Dad knew a thing or two about life," I agree, throwing the scotch back on a suddenly constricted throat.

"He was a good man," nods Chris, taking a reciprocal sip of his drink.

"Yeah..." I say tightly, gazing out over the city without really seeing it. "He was."

Wonder what he'd think of Harper...

I give myself a mental slap. It doesn't fucking matter, you ass. That girl's history, just like Dad. No point getting hung up on—

"You know..." muses Chris, interrupting my self-flagellation. "We never got to see Times Square."

I snort caustically as I reach for the bottle again. "Because Besnard conspired with the weather to fuck us over..."

Chris quirks a brow as he holds his own glass out for a top-up. "I'm not certain it was entirely intentional..."

"You sure?" I counter with a sidelong look, refilling both tumblers. "'Cause I'd be damn hard pressed to find another dipshit on this planet who could've screwed up something so simple so spectacularly."

"Fair point," Chris concedes with a chuckle. "But, lucky for us, both Tariq and the malignant rain clouds are — rather thankfully — in the wind. So, what say we take advantage of the reprieve? Just the two of us?"

My hand stops mid-air. "You wanna sneak out? Again?"

He meets my eye with a knowing look. "May very well be our last chance before the start of the season..."

I shake my head dryly as I place the bottle back on the ledge. "Thought I was supposed to be the bad influence."

"Perhaps the student has finally surpassed the master," he replies, throwing me another wink as he raises his glass up in mock salute.

I can't help but scoff. "With that disappearing act, I'd say you've surpassed even your brother!"

"That may perhaps be a bit of a stretch," he chides. "As we cannot forget that it was my dear brother who once skipped out of a high-profile summit in Marrakech, commandeered a camel and a kaftan, and rode for six hours through the desert so he could watch the Dakar Rally."

"Yeah, that Lawrence of Arabia shit does set the bar quite high, doesn't it?"

"Leo has never been one to do things by halves..." Chris reminds me.

I heave a breath. "Don't I know it..."

Chris catches my gaze out of the corner of his eye. "Hope you weren't too harsh with him..."

I lift the tumbler to my mouth. "No comment."

"Christ! That bad, huh?"

"I may have questioned his sanity," I tell him sardonically.

"You certainly wouldn't have been the first," laughs Chris. "Father seriously considered sending him to a clinic in Switzerland when Leo told him of his plan to abdicate."

"Would've saved me a massive headache if he had..." I grumble.

"No... it was my fault," sighs Chris. "I should not have taken the device. I did promise that I would behave, and I reneged on my word."

I hold up a hand. "Hey. It's fine. I get why Leo gave it to you... and why you took it. Just... Don't get any ideas for the season. I'd prefer to keep my job... and my balls."

Chris laughs. "Duly noted. However, I would still like to take the opportunity to offset my regrettable faux pas... Perhaps with a traditional American breakfast?"

I cock a brow at him. "Do you even know what a traditional American breakfast is?"

"No," he admits. "But what better way to find out than in the company of a local?"

"Okay, fine," I concede, throwing the last of my scotch back. "But you better not skip out on me again..."

"You have my undying word," he says, laying a hand on his heart.

"Good," I say, pointing a finger at him. "'Cause this time, I'm gonna hold you to it." Softening my expression, I add, "But seriously. Glad you had a chance to escape. Christ knows you needed it."

"As do I," he says with a smile, picking up the bottle of scotch to head back across the roof. "So, thank you for pulling this getaway together. I'll treasure the memories — always."

"The trip ain't over yet, buddy," I remind him. "We still have three hours to kill before departure."

He grins back at me. "Then we best get to it, hadn't we, mate?"

The story continues in Chapter 12 - Hungover on You

A/N: As a quick bonus, here is a pic of Leo in the Moroccan desert 😇

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Sleepless in New York only

@bebepac

Picture Credits: Burger - Shirtless - Whiskey - New York

Drake, Christian and Leo were generated with the AI art app Wonder

[calronhunt]

didnt want to be extra annoying and ask this on your art blog so ill settle for just being annoying.. was anything in wac inspired by the life series? like designs or well, anything! discovered ur stuff on youtube and went ooooh and then snooped through all the art i could find and was repeatedly reminded of the sillies that occupy my brain. sorry 2 be weird! ik its the worst question to be asked sorry but its hurting my brain wondering and not knowing

Aw shit ya caught me. I was gonna reveal this fact much later down the line bc ive been kinda open that WAC started out as an AU just not for what. Primarily the reason for secrecy is bc i don't want people to look at this story i put a lot of myself and my experience into and go "I can't believe you tricked me into reading about minecraft men" bc the story has expanded a lot past these intial inspirations.

So before i go into all the inspirations, I wanna make this perfectly clear. WAC's plot is almost completely original, baring some small scenes inspired by events in the Life series and the basic set up. It's a three act story that is mostly about me and my partners problems regarding abuse and personhood. The Life Series au was a starting point and it kinda spiraled out from that lollll.

(Also I saw your other ask and it doesn't bother me at all! Its been something ive wanted to talk about anyway simply bc i find the inspirations funny. Plus I promised myself if someone realized and asked I would talk about it. Also i just love talking about inspiration and seeing how you got from one thing to the next, maybe others would like the same.)

1. "Why are they cats?" This started as an au once again but i felt too embarrassed talking about it publicly as a mcyt au so I gave them cat designs. That's the only reason lol

Lain - Inspired primarily by 3rd life and lim life martyn in regards to both his devotion to the king (ren) and mariner (scott). Lain and Mariner originally started as Majorwood shipping cats but then became more about their unhealthy power dynamics and two people being stuck together it spiraled into what we have now! Especially since I believe Martyn killed Jimmy (Canary) in 3rd life? Or at least scott accuses him as such so that's where that came from.

Mariner - 3rd/lim life scott! His obsession with the sea, his name, his relationship to Canary, his ties to Lain, and his design is pulled from scott. That's about all that's similar now though. His personality is completely different. Hes a shitty fuckinh dude.

Canary - 3rd life Jimmy Solidarity but like fucking barely and just bc hes married to mariner (flower husbands). Took his name from the fandom calling him a canary because he always dies first and that's basically it. Also worked with the bird name theme i was starting to go with

The King - 3rd life ren but again fucking BARELY except for his relationship with Lain and being a king and trying to conquer shit. That's like. It.

Condor - he's just mr good times with scar. Hes like, the closest to his mcyt counterpart probably and im not even sorry. Took primarily from 3rd life and lim life once again though in regards to his relationship with Crane (Cleo), Warbler (bdubs), and Scout (Etho) (and also the fact the group is called the flock is a cheeky callback to the family being called the clockers)

Crane - stated above, Cleo, but only bc shes mom in the clockers family. Nothing else.

Warbler - limlife bdubs but again fucking BARELY. I think the bdubs skin is the most i drew on for her design with the fucked up eye and teeth.

Grouse - mr 3rd life grian. Dating condor because desert duo and feeling indebted to him for that as well. And just. Generally little guy vibes.

Scout - etho. Just for chill vibes. Dating Crabe because hes "dad" in lim life and dating Wolf (Joel) bc of double life halfslab.

Wolf - Primarily last life joel with the living alone in the woods thing and joel just being a like. Maniac in the life series with the murders and such. Dating scout again bc of double life. The her having canary's skull thing is just for my friend who is a big fucked up smallidarity shipper.

Sycamore, coal, and aster are original characters i made specifically for the story.

I would again like to state that the story is BARELY tied to things that happen in the life series, and its mostly my personal experiences and silly thoughts. The silly minecraft men were just the jumping off point and all of their arcs are original so there ya go <3