#this is the first fanfiction-like thing I've written in ages

[chaosdeprived]

the bleeding heart on your sleeve

Fandom: Abigail (2024)

Pairing: Joey x Sammy (JoeySammy)

Word Count: 3.3k

Content / Warnings: Abigail (2024) spoilers. (Please don't read if you haven't watched the movie yet!) Canon divergence. Post-canon. Blood and injury. Vampire feeding.

Summary: Joey didn’t sign up to deal with a fledgling vampire with soft blue eyes and a warm smile. (And her newfound appetite.)

[kaszuma]

Mockery | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 0 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: Mina Ashiro needed a team. But the moment she found one, she was at a loss at what to do when her Vice Captain and Lead Technician got off on the wrong foot.

warnings: Slight Kn8 B-side Manga Spoilers, Mentions of Soshiro struggling with self-worth, Mentions of slight animosity between you and Soshiro but nothing too major, First-time meeting, Mentions very few graphic depictions of slaying Kaiju.

wc: 9,712

–

note: Hello! Sorry for the long wait.

I originally planned to write Part 7 first. but decided to write Part 0 as a special chapter since I've hit a hundred followers. But by the time I finished, we hit 150. Thank you lots!!

There is less romance on this one, since it's a prequel to Part 1 of Certainly Yours. I originally wanted to incorporate a rivalry or an initial animosity between reader and Soshiro. So this was my best attempt on the subject.

There is a lot more interaction and inner pining because it's still in the initial stages in the relationship. And I had a difficult time cross referencing B-side manga with the things I've already written thus far. I’m disappointed we don't really have much information on Soichiro. And I have big plans to incorporate him in a separate part in much more excruciating detail later down the line. Involving jealousy..

Anyways. For now, I shall write Part 7 and give ya'll the comfort you need. Might be the big I love you's, you're looking for. Wink wink.

Also, please tell me if I missed any warnings. None of these are proof read and my phone lags really bad when I post 9k words worth of fanfiction.

–

The feeling of being needed was a foreign concept that Soshiro Hoshina had never experienced for himself.

The road that he paved himself had always been a lonesome one. Carved by the very callouses of his own fingertips. Where he'd dive headfirst into the nose of a cliff filled with criticisms and comparisons. The world familiar to him had always been accompanied by a sense of mockery for his craft. A sneaky way to bury his existence in the wake of the world that had been full of firearms and expert Kaiju exterminators.

In the face of it all, he had always been frustratingly average.

Not nearly as bright as the way his older brother had burned for the adrenaline of the battlefield. The use of firearms, specialized tools and weaponry that had been modernized to slay larger than life Kaiju. Had always been stacked against him. Someone who was not born with the innate ability to tackle such large threats. His use had been chained to the blade. One so sharp and pristined to the point of no return.

For as long as he remembered, it had always been like this.

Even before he had joined the Defense Force of his own volition. He had always felt inferior in the way his brother Soichiro had bested him in every sense of the word. A genius incarnation that had rarely been born into the Hoshina family's already impressive lineage. In a family who prided themselves as generational Kaiju-slayers.

By all means, Soichiro Hoshina was the perfect man born for the front lines. His presence alone dominated the field. Any Challengers he'd face would be a place where normal people would never be able to reach.

He mastered a variety of martial arts at a young age. Already flipping over instructors each time he was paired to a battle in an attrition of self-defense.

The sword techniques passed down within the generations of his ancestors, had all been perfected to improve upon his own. His sword an extension of his arm each time he wielded it. And in terms of firearms? Soshiro couldn't begin to imagine ever reaching the height of his brother's skill. The gap between them in terms of long ranged attacks had been far too large for him to delusionally think he'd ever make it. Let alone surpass.

And although their youngest was plenty good at the progress of his own swordsmanship. Soichiro was on an entirely different level than he was.

A genius, some would call him. A fact the younger Hoshina was far too aware of.

The dust he left behind when he ran forward was often a sight Soshiro was familiar with. Sweeping him off of his feet each time he'd issue a direct challenge with his older brother.

And although he hated to admit it. Soichiro Hoshina's existence was both an inspiration and a mockery to his own.

A frustrating truth that even he had no choice but to believe.

His enigmatic older brother had always been a person who was destined to become the Captain of the sixth division. And his junior of five years, who had not excelled in anything but his skill in close quarter combat. Had all but stood in his shadow, destined to live a much ordinary life as an instructor like his family suggested.

Not a single person expected him to keep fighting.

To keep swinging that blade of his which had been both a boon and bane for his existence in the defense force.

Each humorous jab, or critical comment directed his way, had always been replied with a simple smile on his cat-like features. Far too exhausting to correct the people who had never dreamed to understand what he wished for.

And even if they never did, even if no one ever believed that he'd be able to survive the chaotic life of killing a Kaiju with a blade alone. He'd fight tooth and nail if he had to, In an effort just to keep his style of combat alive.

Because swinging the sword had always been something he found extreme joy in.

He refused to let this be the written ending for his story. Refused to let fate decide on the path to his future actions. Not when his undoing had all been decided by his unlucky birth.

Had Soshiro existed in a different era, far away from Soichiro. Things may have turned out much differently, he imagined.

But alas, he was stuck fighting. Climbing the gritty stairs of progress. Dragging the heavy weights of his blades all the way to the bloody top. And It showed in the way he never stopped practicing. His personalized equipment had always remained in top condition. The sharp end of that thinly-cut mass of iron had always been razor edged and cut-throat in the way it was maintained. Not even a dent could be seen on the damn thing.

By all means the weapon he held had always been ready. Waiting in fact, for the day Soichiro would mess up and stumble.

And for some reason? Soshiro had a feeling that day would be today.

It was their usual four round duel. An agreement between brothers who'd meet up every afternoon at the end of their respective classes for the weekday. Books packed hastily in an effort to rush home so that they could clash blades in the open spaces of their house's courtyard.

It had been a daily routine at this point.

Often, Soshiro would be the first to come home. Dropping his bag onto the floor of his bedroom and rushing to wear his hakama which had been prepped on the foot of his bed. And the moment he puts it on, he shows no hesitation when he grabs an appropriately sized bamboo blade that he kept nearest his closet.

Soichiro, who was the last to come, had always returned home with his little brother already waiting for him at their usual spot. Stance wide and ready to begin their matchup.

And although he often found his determination awe inspiring.

The older brother was far too aware of his own blood's presence. His eagerness to catch him off-guard had been made clear. Always at the ready in the case he'd make a mistake so that he could close the gap in skill between them.

And Soichiro. Who was as equally as cunning as he is. Had always been one step ahead, at the ready for any of Soshiro’s practiced attacks that even he knew could catch up to him at any moment.

Genius my ass. What's the point of being called that when your younger brother was so close to surpassing you? His progress in the blade is abnormally fast.

And to Soichiro. It was utterly terrifying.

“Yer too stiff ya’ little wimp. How do you expect to swing and hit me when that stance of yours is too rigid.” Soichiro pointed out. His chin pointed at the darker haired boy's much smaller feet. The boy hadn't even hit a growth spurt yet. And at this point he had been much taller than Soshiro's current height. His little brother barely reached the waistband of his Hakama giving him an ample advantage in build.

“Tryin’ something new. Now shut yer’ trap and let me hit ya!” Soshiro replied. The same serious look plastered on his face.

And such a challenge is met by his brother's own smirk. “Quite the yapper today aren't ya?” He laughs.

“-Fine. If you managed to hit me once, I'll let you go at me for another round. That ‘a deal?”

“Don't even need to ask.” Soshiro smirks. And with quick footwork, the boy had already reached his older brother's inner circle.

His steps were precise in the way he wasted no unnecessary limbs in his movement. In three short steps he had been faced to face with him. The tip of his bamboo sword already pointed at the very sky. Ready to strike him in the shoulder in an attempt to have him drop his own weapon. A technique he had done plenty of times to Soshiro before.

But the braided haired boy had been quicker. More experienced for his age. Foreseeing the minor tells his brother would exhibit when striking his sword down. And he wastes no time, pouncing to the side. Narrowly avoiding the heavy hand that had almost hit him on the jugular. Where he knows would've hurt.

It was done in quick succession. Soshiro didn't even have time to realize that his brother had turned on his heel. His blade held with one hand, had swept the ground to hit his very ankle. Effectively throwing him off balance. Making Soshiro yelp as he landed on his rear. Sword slipping from the tight grasp of his fingertips which had not grown enough to garner a steady grip yet.

And he could hear Soichiro’s obnoxious laughter echoing from in front of him. Slapping his leg to try and calm his breathless laughter.

“Whoops, nearly thought you had me there didn't ya?” He places his free hand over his stomach whilst he slung his sword over his shoulder. Trying not to pop a vein while laughing so hard.

And the jolly expression on his face alone had made Soshiro grit his teeth.

“Hah!? One more round and I'll make ya’ eat dirt you big bonehead.” Soshiro had replied. Already scampering about to grab his sword from the sidelines. Readying his stance for another round.

But a little known fact about Soichiro is that his interests never linger on him for too long. Only allowing the younger boy a total of four rounds per day. No more, no less. Had that number exceeded. He'd spare no glance and show disinterest on entertaining the boy no more. And his laughter soon dies down.

“Nope, No way! That's the fourth loss in a row. That's ‘bout enough for today Soshiro.” The older boy shook his head nonchalantly. Fixing up the loose strands of his braid as he turned to walk away. Uninterested now that the battle had ended quickly.

“You coward–One more round! I ain’t done with you yet!!” Soshiro yelled. But he sees the way his older brother was already kicking the wooden sandals off his feet. Walking back inside where the scorch of the afternoon sun would not hit him. And mock reply he'd refuse much louder than before.

“Nope.” His mouth popped.

“Them's the rules, I'm afraid.. Now I’m starvin, let's go grab a bite to eat.”

He sees the way Soichiro had not spared a second to look back. Immediately making a beeline to the Kitchen where he knew a few snacks would be waiting for them.

But unlike the eldest, Soshiro had stubbornly stomped behind his brother. Trying his best to keep up with the older boy who had much larger strides in his steps.

“That ain't fair, you said you'd give me five rounds today!”

“I said I'd give ya an extra round IF ya’ managed to hit me. And beggars can't be choosers here seeing as how not one of your attacks managed to graze me at all.”

“-Looks like you'll need more trainin’ ya little twerp.” His hand had reached to pat him on the head. But Soshiro had slapped it away before it could ruffle the tips of his hair.

“Quit callin me twerp ya Bonehead! I'm not the one who's running away–Come back here so I can kick yer’ sorry butt!” He chased after him. A common sight for the household who often saw the siblings bicker with one another.

But Soichiro was too fast. The pleasant smile on his face remained as he grabbed a rice ball nearest the counter. All the while effectively avoiding the smaller one's tackles.

It had been a few seconds more before Soshiro would give up in his pursuit. The sound or his grumbling stomach made Soichiro want to laugh. But he figured he could spare the poor boy the embarrassment of pointing that out.

Eventually, Soshiro stopped. Grabbing a rice ball of his own, he chooses to sit at the tatami nearest the windowsill of their home. And with much delight begins munching on the rice ball with a fuming look on his face.

He hadn't given up..he’s just a little hungry. That's all. He reminds himself.

“One of these days I'll beat ya’ on the first swing. Just you wait.” And that sentiment makes his older brother smile.

“That so?” Soichiro replied. Sitting beside the younger boy who had taken large bites from his own food. And unbeknownst to Soshiro, a smile appears on the corner of his older brother's lips.

“Well, guess I should buckle up and train too. Wouldn't want my wimpy little brother here to get ahead of me. Now do I?” The younger one couldn't help but roll his eyes. Clearly unamused that his brother had taken to scorn him again.

“Train with what? You're already plenty good at everything else. Yer’ just being mean.” Soichiro couldn't help but chuckle at his brother's small pout. Already grabbing him another rice ball to hand to him, as a form of apology. And Soshiro wastes no time to accept his offer. Enjoying the fresh grains of rice wrapped in that salty seaweed sheet. A singular pickled plum had peaked from within the blankets of warm grains.

“Sure. But I ain't about to slack off and give ya an easy-win.” Soichiro chuckles. Though for some reason, his voice had been far kinder than usual. “-Besides…”

Soshiro pauses, raising a brow at his older brother who had stared at the golden rays nearest the open window. And a strange expression was etched on his very face.

“I'm willin’ to bet that someday..yer’ gonna find someone who's gonna need you. With or without that blade of yours.”

And he raises his head to meet his older brother's strange smile.

It had been a selfish, childish desire for sure. One that disliked the idea of his younger brother overlapping him one day. The sheer dedication and progress he had been making was a far cry to his own. But those words, he meant sincerely. And whether Soshiro was aware of that, he was sure that one day he'd at least think back on it as simply words of mockery to discourage him.

And he did not bother to correct him.

…

It had been a few years since then. And for some reason those words stuck to Soshiro like a moth with a lamp.

It was uncharacteristic of Soichiro.

Even after he cut ties with his older brother. He had always found that sentiment of his, strange. The enigmatic Soichiro did not usually go out of his way to comfort him. Let alone aid him in his training. In fact, he distinctly remembers all the times the braided haired boy discouraging him each time they dueled. Demotivated him to stop in his endeavors.

It wasn't uncommon for his anger to boil when it came to Soichiro’s demeaning behavior. His words, often echoing on days where he’d fail to prove his worth to the defense force.

And although he knew Soichiro was only teasing him. His constant onslaught of berations had made him think he needed to improve upon his flaws even more. His words of mockery, a lingering thought on the back of his mind that would've normally made a person give up. Had only strengthened his resolve. And his actions only lead to even longer strides of hard work that only evolved each passing moment he'd swing his sword.

So why was it that those words of his didn't sound like mockery at all?

Had his brother meant it? When he told him he'd find someone who'd need him with or without the skill of his blade?

It had been almost an entire decade since he last saw his brother. Who had gone straight ahead and became a captain of his own division. And Soshiro had just about joined the defense force. Hoping to prove his worth.

But that was easier said than done.

It wasn't until Mina Ashiro had walked in. Scouting him directly from the Kansai District. Offering him a chance to join the Third Division and rise to the top to become her Vice Captain. But even then, it had still felt like a blow to his existence who had been fighting just to stay in the game.

“I need your abilities. Will you join my force, Hoshina?” Captain Ashiro of the Third Division had spoken. Unabashed upon his entrance to her office. It had been one of those rare instances where he got to visit the Tokyo District. And he wondered if the woman in front of him was being serious in her resolve.

“Me?” He gives a wry chuckle. “Not sure I follow Captain.”

“You're a blade specialist. Yes?”

“That's correct.” He spoke with a weary formality.

“We can't overlook the possibility of miniature-sized Kaiju cropping down the line.” The Captain had spoken with determination. And her eyes meet Soshiro's with much the same determination she had when she first offered him a place next to her.

“When I need to shoot a threat, can I trust that you'll clear a path for me?”

…

Soshiro was frozen on the spot.

He was practically unable to answer her. Too shocked at the mere possibility of being offered a need for his skill with the blade. He had been forced to carry a gun with him before, and that didn't end well. Yet here she was, seeking assistance in a blade specialist who had so often struggled to keep up with entire platoons who had wielded firearms instead of steel.

So why now? Why was it when he resolved to only use blades did Captain Ashiro of the Third Division scout him out? Modern Kaiju of this day and age were large. Gigantic with plated shells that even firearms had struggled to pierce through. What good would a sword do in that situation?

And yet even then, he thought about it.

The possibility of fighting his way in the midst of soldiers who carried firearms and freezing rounds. The sheer thought of rushing forward and slicing Kaiju with the perfected combat abilities he had been polishing way before he had resolved to join the Defense Force.

But before he could resolve to make an answer, the door had opened. And you had entered the fray.

“Him? Well I suppose this isn't the first time the Third's willing to recruit strange people.”

Strange?

Soshiro had looked to the side. Catching a glimpse at your figure as you slowly closed the door behind you. Hands shoved to the front pocket of your lab coat as you walked right next to him. Saluting towards Captain Ashiro to formally greet her upon meeting her gaze.

“Captain.” You addressed. Right beside Soshiro. And you could feel his stares poking through your sides.

“At ease.” The Captain looks back towards him. “Officer Hoshina. This here, is the Third's Lead Technician. She's a weapons specialist and will be here to provide your support should you choose to join our division.”

The sweet smile on your face had not faltered. Taking you back to a relaxed stance as you came face to face with Soshiro’s own scrutiny. His raised eyebrow had been an indication of his hesitancy towards you.

Your eyes had made contact with his. And although squinted, you could see the glimpse of his wine colored eyes. Observing you thoroughly from head to toe.

You weren't exactly sure what was running in his thoughts at the moment. But his skepticism was met by a similar opinion of your own. Not entirely sure if he was as good as Captain Ashiro praised him to be. Though you had to admit, he was at least somewhat nice on the eye.

“I heard about you.” He tilts his head. Fox-like in his gaze. And a smile had stretched amusingly on the corners of your lips.

“Oh? Good things I hope?” He looked unbothered. Though in a sense that his kindness was only a front that he had all but gotten used to in hiding. Likely from your comment from earlier. And you had an inkling that he had a few things to say of his own. Sly in the way he'll word it.

”I suppose..” His reply was curt.

“Heard yer’ one of the few technicians that actually make Specialized Bioweapons, that about right?”

You nod. “Only for the strange ones.”

“-Ones that can't conform to the normalcy of standard firearms. Much like you, it seems.”

This makes Soshiro’s lips quirk. Suddenly very aware that your statement had been a jab of sorts. One he had gotten used to from his own division. And such a challenge was directly and expertly countered back in tandem.

“Well yer’ not so normal yourself ya’ know?” His accent had been made much clearer. And your eyebrows raise. Slightly irate in the way he jabbed at you. Though you let him continue, just to see if he could keep up with his own feist.

“-Heard you were the Technician that was kicked out for bein’ so stubborn to work with.”

And you had to hold back a wry chuckle. It seems his smile had a few sharp claws to fight back with. “So you've heard.”

“-But I suppose you too are used to that very sentiment, yes?” Your words seem to make that easy smile of his falter slightly. It was a miniscule comment, but judging by the way he had remained silent. The tension of the room grew weary as the two sparked a similar glare for each other. And although he found the situation slightly amusing, his displeased conversation had definitely soured his thoughts of joining.

Maybe the Third Division wasn't the place for him either.

What were the chances he'd have a different point of view should he switch divisions now? Your existence proved the very mockery his brother had implied. His Father who was normally supportive had not praised him for wanting to join the Defense Force when all he had was his skill in the blade. And the thought alone is enough to convince him otherwise.

Captain Ashiro's offer had been tantalizing, but not definite. And he has half a mind to excuse himself before things could escalate.

But as luck would have it. Captain Ashiro had been observant. Her intentions were never to have them be at odds with one another. And she clears her throat in the hopes she could ease the tension in the room slightly.

Administering as the only superior officer in the room. Who needed to take much responsibility.

“Sleep on it, Hoshina. We could use a close combat specialist like you out there.”

And whether or not she meant that. There hadn't been much time before an alert went off. A pin placed on his thoughts as he had found himself participating with the Third's mission to exterminate acid spitting Kaiju on the eastern side of the Kanto region.

…

Despite his hesitance. The thought of it still remained. And as if magnetized, he found himself willingly transfering to the Third Division. Somehow surviving a Kaiju attack that he had helped fend off with Captain Ashiro's help.

His sword. One he brought with him from back home. Had all been melted to the hilt. Its black steel had an unnatural wave of color on it. A result of his reckless actions when he remembered having to cut through the insides of a Kaiju's mouth. Saving both himself and a child from being devoured and melted.

Had Captain Ashiro and Okonogi; the Third's Lead Operations gal. Not hac impeccable timing, he was sure he would've been dead meat by now. And yet here he was, alive coupled with only a few bruises on his sore body.

After a few days, he had recovered fairly well since then. Deployed from the hospital after a back and forth discussion between the Tokyo and Kansai district. And he had finally gotten permission for his official transfer. h

His things were readily packed as he made his way to the bunkers of Tachikawa's base.

And just as he had stared at the broken blade, he had debated on whether or not he should've just thrown it out to get a new one.

It took ages to convince the Kansai district to forge him a blade. Steel that could withstand the strength of Kaiju skin. Or have a high enough melting point so that the acidic burns of its saliva and stomach were not affected by it. But that type of material was hard to come by. Let alone, he doubts command would grant him access to such weaponry when he had done nothing to prove his usefulness.

So even then, when he had been given the minimum necessity, he had been careful in its uses. Unsure whether or not his platoon leader would allow him to be given a replacement blade when he had so little opportunity to showcase his skill infield.

He’d likely have to ask Platoon Leader Ebina for a replacement. He had so few extra blades to spare. But the Third had at least been kinder to him than his last division. Surely they'd grant him better access to the weaponry of his choice, right?

Though just as he loathed the thought. His footsteps halted.

And in the middle of the empty hallways, nearest the corner where the sleeping quarters should be. Your eyes had met with his once more. The first time in a while since your encounter in the confines of Captain Ashiro's office.

“It's you.” You had spoken.

Suddenly aware that he had been staring at the broken blade in his hand. Unfazed by the heavy duffle bag he had carried with his other arm. The sudden softness of your voice had been unexpected to say the least. Given the last animosity you both displayed towards each other.

You walked closer to inspect the melted steel. Having already heard the report from Captain Ashiro’s latest mission. And for a moment, he feels as if you had looked almost displeased at the weapon. Guilty for having assumed the worst of him. “Looks like the acid's melted it down. I assume you have a spare?”

He nods. Sheathing the broken shortsword back in its holster. Making it look like it hadn't been broken at all. “That's right. Though I ain’t excited that I'm gonna hafta' throw another one out.”

This makes you smile. And his eyes had widened ever so slightly at the sight of your pretty teeth

So that's what you looked like when you smiled.

“Figures. It isn't very common for people to use steel against Kaiju nowadays. Let alone swords.” You spoke slowly. And this time, you see the way his mouth visibly frowns. A stark contrast to that usual unbothered smile of his when you had first met him.

“Well I ‘spose I'm not your common folk.” He spoke tight-lipped. And you cringe inwardly at your thoughtless words.

You hadn't meant that. A force of bad habit it seems. One that came from a place of wanting to help.

A soldier’s life, especially one that dealt with monstrous Kaiju, had always tipped the balance between life and death. And you had thought it reckless to see him remain stubborn when you first heard your Captain praise Soshiro's skill in the blade. Your impression on him, had made you think he was a reckless fool who did not value his life. At least not enough to learn how to handle firearms.

Though now, after having witnessed his actions through Okonogi and a few key witnesses from that day. You knew that you had been wrong in your assumptions. Planning to make amends the only way you knew how.

Your place as a Technician who could only fight through the weapons you made. One that you hoped would help people survive. Even for just a minute longer, just to make a difference.

“I didn't-” Your words were cut short. Not entirely sure why your voice had cut from the tip of your tongue. So instead you move closer grabbing the hilt of his blade from his fingertips. And that alone makes Soshiro tilt his head in confusion. “Here, let me have a look.”

And he watches you admire the weight and feel of the weapon. Staring at the black leather hilt that he had so often found himself gripping. Enough to cause a few dents in the area. Only further proving his dedication to his craft. But he did not understand your actions. Far too vague in deciphering you when he barely knew much to tell if your actions had been one of curiosity or just sheer brazenness.

“Do you…have something against me? Or is there somethin’ I’m missing here?" He blurts out. Unsure if your earlier comments were made from a place of ignorance or as a way to insult his way of fighting.

And your eyes had so easily pried from the blade and back to his face. Surprised that the relaxed persona of his had momentarily disappeared.

And for a second, you felt the weight of added guilt in the way you had addressed him earlier.“Against you? No, I-”

You sigh. “Not really. If anything I'm interested in you.” Managing to blurt out, almost frowning at the way you stumbled to admit that. Somehow that had been hard to say in front of his face.

“That so?” He tilts his head with a smile. “And here I was, under the impression that you hated my guts.”

You had half a mind to roll your eyes. Make another comment that might've irked his feathers for a bit. But you stopped yourself. Finding the smile on his face much more pleasant than you had imagined. A far cry from the masked practiced one he had adorned when you first met him with. And this time, you had made an effort to be more sincere.

“You've gained my trust.” You simply spoke. This time in a much more pleasant tone than you had anticipated. “I was wrong. I misjudged your confidence for stupidity.”

His eyes had trained over each other. And silence swept over them before you spoke hesitantly once more.

“I thought you were unwilling to adapt to change. But I see now you are much more careful than I anticipated.” Your admission makes him look away momentarily. Suddenly unused to such sincerity after their last meeting.

“Your skill in the blade is impeccable. And instead of being stupid, I'll replace your weapon for you.”

He raises his brow. Not entirely sure what you were getting at until you held the weighted blade with one hand. Unused to the way you had spoken softly this time. Almost apologetic even.

“You mean replace my weapon of choice?” He had assumed as much. Maybe you’d hand him a gun and see just how terrible he'd be at it. But you had almost smacked yourself on the head for wording things so vaguely.

“No.” Your reply was immediate. Making it clear that you had not meant to insult his skill in swordsmanship. That much was for sure. And maybe that had been the first spark that finally got through the both of you. That you had not meant to offend each other. Not this time.

“I meant–the material your weapon is made out of. It's barely functional, let alone made for slicing thick-skinned Kaiju. I didn't mean too.. yeah.”

Your words had caught his throat dry. And Somehow the awkwardness you had displayed had made him chuckle in response. Amused in the way you too, had stumbled in your words when you had so confidently spoken to him last time. He wonders if you were even the same person who'd responded with the feist he had experienced first-hand. Jabs and all.

Normally conversations like these would lead to persuasion. A simple comment to get him to use other weapons. To give up on his hard work with the blade.

By all means, he was used to the impracticality of his craft.

He was good with the blade. A prodigy some would call him. But his weapon of choice had not been suited for practical use. Often delegated as a Martial Arts technique, required to join the Defense Force as a form of experience.

But it seems he had forgotten who he was talking to.

For you had not been a very practical person either. A technician who made specialized weapons for the odd who would not dare conform to the standard way of fighting a modern Kaiju. And this time, he understood the words you had struggled to say out loud. Your apologies were clear, and you wanted to help. Even if you did look adorably helpless in trying to offer that option to him. “So, what I'm getting at is that, yer’ offering to help me. Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause I have no idea how you survived for this long with such a flimsy weapon.”

“‘Scuse me?” He couldn't help but laugh a little more. Finding your bluntness a charm. Your aura had been quite different from his initial assumptions. And it seems you were just a bold individual who was unafraid of speaking the truth if need be.

And the thought alone made him smile. Much more genuine in the way he realized he'd be faced with.

“Normally people just tell me that I'm bein’ stubborn by sticking to the front lines. But never that..” He chortled again. Finding the amusement almost breathtaking to stand upright.

And the sound of his laughter had been similar to the pretty bells you once heard during the peak hours of a windchimes's ring. Nice and genuinely pretty.

If he had laughed like that everyday, it might make things a little harder for you to deal with. But you ignore the quick pace in your heart strings. Rolling your eyes as if nothing changed in your demeanor.

“Oh please. I've seen it from the Operations Room. You're more than capable. But the weapons they've given you are…subpar to say the least.”

“-If you actually want to do more, you're gonna need a stronger steel base than this.” You had flicked your finger against the holster of the blade. And the sound of contact had echoed to his ear. And suddenly he is all too aware of that soft smile plastered on your face.

A confidence brimming in you that told him all he needed to know. A thought that you'd help him. To stick by his side and pave a way for him. Starting with a better weapon.

“And I can help you. If you let me.”

“Oh. So you're offering to fix my blade for me?”

“Even better. I'm offering you specialized blades. Ones that won't break so easily.” You beamed. And the sight of your eagerness had made him almost giddy. It almost sounded like a pipe dream in the way you had offered no hesitance in supporting him. It was a breath of fresh air amidst the many who had given up on him.

“Though of course, you'd have to rise through the ranks. Command will only authorize special made weapons for the strongest Officers after all.”

“Like Captain Ashiro?” He had spoken out of turn. A tilt on his head at the memory of her rather peculiar specialty. “I assume you'd want someone who can dish out firepower as strong as hers.”

It was no secret that the Captain of the Third Division had an unusual affinity for firearms. Her large weapon was akin to a cannon, fit to destroy larger than life Kaiju should they appear before them. But you had all but shook your head at his comment. Already one step ahead to stop his doubts from formulating. And somehow, despite the difficulty in reading him. You found yourself able to at least grasp a feeling of his inferiority. One that had been beaten down on his very body that had made you feel guilty at the words he endured.

The very same words you've mocked him with.

“No. The rest of the command can have Mina Ashiro for all I care. It's you I want.” You pointed to him. your finger squarely on his chest. And he hopes you couldn't feel the vapid way his heart was hammering upon its contact with the fabric of his standard uniform jacket. Eyes fixated at your determination and unexpected confidence in him.

“But why? Wouldn't ya’ prefer someone more capable in both long and close range weapons?”

“Like who?” You had inquired. And suddenly his thoughts shift to that amazing but annoying recruit he's encountered during his entry exams. One that he had formed a small rivalry with since they had entered the force right around the same time.

“Maybe someone like Gen Narumi?” He shrugs. Though you could tell he was hesitant in his choice of words. Which makes you chuckle. “The soldier who requested a ridiculously large bayonet? No.”

Somehow that made Soshiro visibly relaxed.

“He’s good but there's nothing I can do that can help him further. But you on the other hand?”

He raises his brows. Seeing the way you tilt your head forward towards him. And his breath is caught on his lungs, unencumbered in the way you speak your mind openly and in confidence towards him. Comparison did not exist in your mind. And from the look on your eyes, there had not been an edge of doubt in the way you responded almost immediately to his doubts.

“I'd be a pretty bad Technician if I didn't see your uses beyond that sword of yours.”

“So ya need me?” He spoke incredulously. And although it embarrasses you, you give him a curt nod. That makes a chuckle escape from his lips. “And suddenly I'm beginin’ to feel special since I joined the Third Division.”

“Well, it's true. The rest may not be able to see it. But I know it.” You paused. Looking at him in sincerity. One that he was not used to seeing. And he flinches upon your hand grabbing his own. Feeling the way his skin had rich blisters that had been replaced with heavy calluses over the time he spent training.

“You'll save more lives than I can count, and the only way you'll do that is if you're given a proper blade.”

“-Created by yours truly of course.” You let go of his hand. Hopefully he hadn't noticed the red tint on your cheeks as you looked away. And his laugh is the first thing you hear that makes you want to admire his pretty face.

“Yer crazy..” He shook his head.

Though more of a vapid insult. The smile remaining on his pretty lips had indicated it was done on jest. And for a moment, you were suddenly all too aware of how husky his voice had been, or how much taller he had shadowed over you. Or how much better he looked when he smiled.

And you find yourself taking a few steps back. The broken blade already slotted on your shoulder. Ready to take it to your lab and get a head start on designing a suitable prototype for him.

“So I've heard. But the Third Division is already full of that, don't you think?” And he couldn't help but nod. Watching the way you had slowly walked passed him. Already unused to the given space you had provided. For a moment, he wished you had held his hand longer. It had made him miss the warmth of your closeness from earlier.

“I suppose so. It's a lot different from the Kansai district, I'll give ya’ that.” He turned. Watching as you retreated slowly. And with a single glance, you had all but piqued the very last of his interest.

Suddenly, it was like getting caught on a hook. And he’s afraid he'd be seeking you out everyday. If he can help it.

If you’d allow it.

“If they couldn't make you shine then I'll make sure to pave that way for you. No kaiju is gonna break that sword of yours.” You turn around. Already taking a step forward. Hiding your pink face from his sight. Which he was admiring rather languidly had you not turned your head.

“You have my word.” You had finished off. And before he could even reply, Soshiro was left in the empty hallways of Tachikawa base.

The sudden absence made him slacken, who had gotten so used to your comforting presence. But in spite of his disappointment, he somehow found himself smiling on his own.

It sure is strange hearing someone say that to him.

Mina Ashiro may have been the first to ask of him. To request an offer for his help in the field. His assistance would prove helpful in the face of her attacks, which was made for long ranged weaponry. And he had finally gotten a chance to prove his worth to the defense force. By means of paving a path to slay the Kaiju that got in her way.

But you had been the first to offer that yourself. To pave a path for HIM should any Kaiju get in HIS way.

You offered him a chance to shine.

And he'd be damned if he doesn't reach that expectation of yours.

The one who had challenged him to go beyond a greater height than he had ever envisioned himself climbing. To be needed.

It wasn't after half a month later had he come back boasting the highest melee kill count from small to midsize threats of Kaiju. His actions ebbing a spark in the third's outlook on Bladed users. Inspiring a few onslaught of officers to join a few joint training sessions held swordsmanship. The Kendo match between districts has become a much more popular feat than before.

Now, learning the blade wasn't a simple formality anymore. It had been another path forward. And although only a fool would continue to wield a blade instead of the practicality of long ranged weaponry. Hoshina Soshiro had been that very same fool. He who pushed forward like a madman and insisted on using his signature shorthanded blades, despite the odds stacked against him

And Mina Ashiro had placed a great deal of faith in him. Enough to promote him to a platoon leader. And eventually a Vice Captain of the third Division.

And your eyes had never lingered elsewhere in his pursuit.

Often following his line of sight when you'd seen him train on the very confines of the training room. And even now, you had stared directly at him. Unable to look away.

Not when he had entered your lab with the unusual formality of his standard uniform. His star studded pin hooked on the left side of his jacket's chest. An insignia that had been a symbol of his inauguration as the new Vice Captain of Third Division's upper ranks. His title attained by the mere fraction of his efforts and hardwork.

And you dare not face him with such petty grievances like you had in the past. A smile etched on your pretty lips as you greeted him in a mock salute. As if to tell him you had been expecting this day to come.

“Took you a while, Vice Captain. I almost thought you'd given up on me.” Your joke had made him let out a chuckle. Closing the door behind him as he walked up to your place nearest the desk.

“And miss out on yer’ startled face? Never.” He had spoken more informally than you had imagined. Which made you drop the mock salute you had given him. Rolling your eyes as you moved to stand. Heading to the next desk over as he followed you suit.

“I think you're the one that should be startled.” You had hinted with a giddy giggle.

The correction made Soshiro tilt his head. A sort of curiosity washing over him. And you watch as he closes the gap between his and the proximity of your bubble. Braving to graze his shoulders against you as he crosses your side. Eyes magnetized in the way it had seen your pretty smile. “Oh. Didya' have a surprise for me? Didn't peg you as someone who gave gifts often.”

And you lean forward, nearest his chest. As if to whisper your little secret that you've been meaning to show him for a while now. “In case you forgot, let me remind you.”

Upon landing his gaze on the small glass case on the desk, you had moved your hands to slowly remove the top cover. Revealing the two refined swords around the same length of his arms.

The outer casing, its holster. Was tinted purple like his dark hair. The hints of military green had no doubt matched that of their Combat Suit's design. And it veered to life the moment his eyes fell upon the familiar insignia of the Third Division's logo atop of its hilt. A sign that this weapon had been his.

Well at least, he assumed as much. Judging from the proud and almost excited look on your face. “I finished your swords.” You spoke factually. “Just need your verdict on the matter.”

His eyes had widened. This had been a stark difference from his previous blade. The way it was made was measured perfectly to the length of his arms. The sword bent in a grip for just the way he preferred it to. And its tip? The one where a pivot was placed had been an indication that it was designed so that he could connect the two blades. Form it into one long sword, if he truly wished to.

That alone was an indication that this was likely not a normal melee. Made of simple bronze or steel.

No.

This was a bioweapon. Made from Kiaju to kill Kaiju. One that was only granted to the strongest in the Force. One that had been ready for his use. Built in custom to his preferences. And their eyes met, only confirming his suspicions when she had given him an awkward shrug of her shoulders. Acting as if invisible ink had occupied the space between their feet.

“I said I'd make you a weapon that won't break easily, didn't I?” In an instant, a hot flush billowed in his cheeks. Much the same when your normally hidden shyness had finally resurfaced.

The rare times it did, he couldn't help but stare. Far too enraptured in the gap that had swung between your feist and your awkward responses. And he nods in turn. Suddenly aware that you had been doing such a task so diligently to perfection. “I don't know what to say. I didn't think you'd actually make it.”

You hear him chuckle. And your shoulder had pushed him forward. Towards the weaponry you had made for him.“Go on, it's not like anybody else can use it.”

Soshiro had looked at you, hesitant in the way you had so readily offered him such a gift. Your words had been proven in the way your assurances hit his heart. And his hand had a mind of its own as it grabbed the hilt of the blade. Sliding its cover right off so he'd have a chance to see the refined structure of the thinly cut mass of iron.

One he had been accustomed to weilding since he had been born.

Though instead. He was met with the dark shade of a similar material. Stronger than Iron, nor any steel for that matter. It was a blade far too distinct to forget. Luminous in orange hues as if it burned with the same heat that had allowed him to move in the enhancement of his suit.

And it had been clear this weapon was far stronger than the rest of his blade. Bound to cut a Kaiju's outer shell much easier than his previous ones would let him.

And the light one that breathed with an eery calm had reflected his own wine red eyes on the blade. The very movement caused a sound cutting through air when he'd expertly move it with his fingertips.

A sight of which had glued your eyes onto him. Finding his stupor rather mesmerizing than usual. His concentration had not been a rare sight for you, especially when you had caught glimpses of the many nights he'd spend alone in the training room.

But being this close. Seeing the joy nipping at his face. Somehow it makes your heart flutter strangely. And you had to shake your head to snap yourself out of admiration for the man. Suddenly focusing your attention back to blade one which vyed for his approval.

“So, do you like it?”

Soshiro had hummed. The usual grin on his lips remained unphased despite the giddiness in his chest. “Mmm...I ‘spose it's subpar at best.”

“Excuse me? Rude.” He laughs at your comment. And he puts the blade back in its holder. Already placing it on the back of his waist, right where it belonged.

“I'm kidding.” He spoke immediately after. A laugh bellowing from his abs. Though your scrunched nose had made it difficult for you to believe his immediate reply.

“No, I'm serious. You've outdone yourself sweetheart. Never seen a sword this sharp before..” He looks you over, admiring the easy smile on your face. That and the nickname seems to have made your cheeks flare up in surprise.

And he had to remind himself to engrave that very image of you on the back of his mind. Fearing that he may never get to see such a sight again.

“Well say that first! It's kind of difficult reading your facial expressions, you know?” You huffed. Though the easy laughter of his had remained. And a smile soon replaces your hefty frown.

“Sorry, sorry. Is there a price I hafta pay ya’? You know, for making me such a nice weapon and all that.”

You shrug, scooting your way right in front of him where he could just as easily close the gap between the two of you.

Have your chest pressed up against his, hand gripping the plush of your lower back. Admiring the gentle way you'd likely stare up at him with flamed cheeks. But he stops, already feeling too guilty to indulge himself further. And your reply had been quick enough to distract him from any incoming thoughts that had pushed his mind to try and get closer to you.

“Only your help, when it comes to a few suit upgrades.”

Help huh? He supposes this would be a good excuse to go see you more often. Though the simplicity of such a task was a little more suspicious on your part. And he had an inkling you had a few things in mind that involved more than just that.

But then again. He couldn't exactly read you either. Not completely at least.

Not yet.

“Quite demanding, aren't we?” He nods.

You had rolled your eyes at his teasing.

“You're the one that offered. But fine, be like that.” You had crossed your arms. Already backing away, and you had felt the way he had firmly pulled you back. Hand against your elbow. Making you face him whilst he tilted his head in your direction.

“Now, now..I never said anything about refusing you didn't I?” He chuckles. And the deep rumble makes your stomach churn in small caterpillars. Ready to form butterflies should he continue.

“Wasn't that already implied?” You spoke. Aware of the way his palms had steadied you by the elbows. The hint of warmth against his skin was almost tantalizing to make you lean forward. But before you had the chance to, he let you go. Leaving only an inch of space between the both of you.

“Shh..” His finger had raised itself against your lips. Shushing you before you could make another smart quip at him that was sure to insight another bout of witty banter. One that he knew he'd grown accustomed to in the future.

“I was just messing with ya'” He laughs. Only confirming that he had been hooked indefinitely by you. And he moves his free hand to tug your hair behind your ear.

“Do you, or do you not want to help me?” You had asked incredulously. Already finding his musings rather annoying. But the way he looked at you had your breath caught in your throat.

His gaze, although clouded by the silent promise to himself. Had not seen the way you too had a similar look on your face. And whether or not you had been aware of this promise. It doesn't fail to make your heart pick up its pace. His voice was almost reminiscent of prayer when he spoke your name in a whisper.

“I do want to help.” He spoke slowly. And your eyes flutter closed wondering if his touch would linger for a bit longer. But his fingertips remained curt. Pulling back just as soon as it grazed your skin.

“And how do I know you're being serious?”

“All ya’ have to do is call me. And I’ll Certainly be Yours, if you want me to.”

And he meant it. He was sincere in his intention to get close to you. To help you like you had sworn to him. Use his skill to protect you, should you ever need it.

And somehow, he is reminded of the time his brother had spoken to him long ago. Back when they were kids, dueling with simple bamboo swords back in the peace of their own home. Eating those childhood rice balls in the afterhours of their respective schools.

Soichiro be damned. Because somehow he was correct in his predictions. His words were every bit of a mockery to his craft. And although it was a rare sight to have him be soft in his presence.

Somehow, that was the one time he did so dissolutely.

And now, it looks like he's found someone who needs him. With or without that blade of his.

And this time, there was genuinely no sense of mockery in the way he had met you.

He only hoped he wasn't too late.

[pacifymebby]

I cry when people yell at me(parent issues™️) and I was wondering how the peakys would react to that, like I can handle most things but yelling is like a big nono for me, would they be concerned or tease me for that, I don't think they will but I'm interested on how they'll react to it for the first time it happens, or if I yell back for the first time? You just do a great job at writing these characters💛

( im sorry if this is too personal or whatever)

AN: not too personal my lovely dw, here at Pacifymebby dot Tumblr dot com we (me) totally specialise in ✨ fanfiction as therapy ✨ haha. Sorry these have taken me ages to do. I'm also a crier when men shout at me so I hope I've written this how you wanted!!!!

Tommy

🌿 Is genuinely very shocked when, mid argument, you start crying. You've seen so much worse than this, you've witnessed some terrible things because of him and his brothers, the fights they get into every week. Only last week you'd watched with as calm a demeanour as one could manage, whilst Arthur had a violent breakdown and smashed a chair up at the dinner table. You'd not shown a shred of fear. But now, here you are, silent, heartbreaking tears streaming down your face and why?

🌿 because Tommy raised his voice at you.

🌿 you couldn't even remember what you'd been arguing about now. You'd seen red and blue fear in your mind the second he'd raised his voice. You'd watched him lose his temper with you, his jaw tense, his face going red as he yelled at you, his expression so angry, so cold and unforgiving. And it had shocked you. Tommy had never raised his voice at you before. You'd seen him shout at his brothers but he'd never shouted at you.

🌿 and the sight of you suddenly drained of colour, your skin taking on that strange bloodless translucency as you starred back at him wide eyed and fearful... it shocks him. You're looking at him like you don't recognise him and suddenly there's a lump in his throat.

🌿 He reaches out for you but you flinch away from him, backing away slowly and then suddenly fleeing, running away, vision blurred by your tears. You don't really know where to go and you can here him calling after you, but his voice raised shouting down the hallway for you only makes it worse. Only adds to your fear.

🌿 you're certain that you're in trouble so you don't stop even when he calls after you. Thing is he hasn't even said he's sorry. Hasn't realised why you're running from him.

🌿 "Y/N love for fuck sake what're you doin... we need to talk about this... Y/n stop!"

🌿 He's chased you out to the gardens, still shouting, still not getting the hint... it's only when he shouts again, louder this time, screaming your name across the lawn that you freeze. His voice seems to shake the whole world and it strikes the fear of god into you. So you stop. And he thinks thats the problem solved, that you've stopped running away from him now so he can return to you and you can talk like grownups.

🌿 but when he gets closer to you you back away some more, and even when he warns you to wait for him you edge away. Every step he takes you take one back until you find yourself backed up against a tree, looking at him with all this fear in your eyes.

🌿 He's careful as he approaches, one arm out to you, trying to coax you back to him... he can see that something has absolutely terrified you but it's only when he gets close enough to touch you, only when he brings his hand up to fix your hair that he realises what you're scared of.

🌿 "Don't hurt me!" You gasp, eyes squeezed shut, your body rigid with fear as you bring your hands up to protect your face. And it's that which makes him realise. That movement, that fragile tremble in your voice as you beg him not to harm you that breaks his heart.

🌿 and the realisation hits him like a freight train, chokes him. He can't believe you're frightened of him. He can't believe it's him who has caused you all this terror. You're trembling, your hands shaking the way a rabbit shakes when it knows it's being hunted.

🌿 He let's out a sigh, closes his eyes and tried to steady his own shaken nerves. He doesn't want to scare you anymore.

🌿 "Y/n, angel listen to me girl, I'm not going to hurt you..." he says, his voice a gentle caress as he takes your trembling hands in his, draws them away from your face and places them on his chest. He holds then both to his heart underneath his hand and with the other he cups your cheek. Makes you look up at him, catches your tears with his thumb and brushes them away.

🌿 "I scared you," he says looking at you ever so mournfully, he feels so guilty and you can see the hurt in his eyes. It just makes you feel worse and you shake your head trying to apologise. You can feel his heart beating beneath your hands, it's racing, his adrenaline too high and you feel guilty yourself because you made him angry.

🌿 "I'm.. I'm so sorry Tommy I made you angry I shouldn't have pissed you off its not..." but he cuts you off, finger pressed to your lips to hush you as he steps closer to you, his body so close to yours that you have to tilt your head back to look up at him. His head is bowed to look down at you.

🌿 "Shh now angel I'm talkin yeah, my turn to talk now eh so listen to me..." he's being ever so gentle, his hand holding your hip, the other tucking your hair behind your ear and stroking your cheek. He doesn't look harsh or sharp anymore, instead of anger his eyes are full of love. "Don't you apologise to me sweetheart, please don't do that... I'm sorry I shouted at you angel, shouldn't have done that but listen to me now eh cause this is important..."

🌿 You can't take your eyes off him, you're still shaking, still crying, your hearts still racing, but you're not frightened anymore. He's looking down at you with such an intense honesty, you can see the remorse in his eyes when he talks to you in that sweet gentle voice.

🌿 "I will never hurt you alright, I promise... even if I'm angry yeah, even if we're havin a blazing bloody row, I won't ever lay a finger on you like that sweetheart, I won't ever hurt you.."

🌿 You'd probably start crying all over again, burying your face in his chest, feeling his arms wrap around you and hold you tight. His hand stroking your back as he bows his head to place a kiss on yours. He'd cradle your head against his body and rest his chin in your hair. Close his eyes, hold onto you tight and treasure the feeling of you in his arms.

🌿 "You really fuckin scared me Tommy..." you'd sniffle struggling to calm yourself down.

🌿 "I know angel, I know and I'm really fuckin sorry alright..."

Alfie

🐻 He didn't mean to shout, Alfie's never raised his voice at you before because he doesn't believe in shouting at women and girls. He has a very firm, traditional view on that and he's stubborn about it too. No swearing, shouting and hitting women and girls.

🐻 The only reason he shouted is because he panicked, you were wandering around in a daydream so you hadn't noticed the tension in the bakery when you'd entered through the back door on your way to see your beloved. Tommy Shelby had just left, informing Alfie that he'd set up a trip wire to ensure his safety, that if he tugged on the string in his hand he would pull the pin from a grenade which would blow up half the bakery, starting a monstrous fire which would probably kill all inside. All those barrels of rum would go up in flames.

🐻 And you were one step from tripping that string which Tommy had tied to the leg of Alfies desk all, "I'll let you deal with this, have a think about what I've said whilst you work eh, careful though, its a delicate procedure..."

🐻 So when he'd seen you Alfie hadn't thought twice, shouting "Y/N stop! Stay there, fuckin don't move!" and luckily you'd frozen. Your body going rigid as the fear struck you like lightning.

🐻 He'd startled you for sure but more than that the sound of his voice ricochetting around the room, the voice of a man who was usually so tender and gentle with you, always so protective of you.. He'd never spoken to you like that and hearing it now struck ice cold fear into the very bones of you.

🐻 Alfie doesn't even notice at first, doesn't notice how you've gone white as a sheet, can't even move, he's too worried about that wire, too busy trying to work out what to do. Hoping there's a chance Tommy was bullshitting him. Hoping that actually there's nothing to fear.

🐻 And poor you, you're just stood there, hand clutched over your mouth starring at your love in shock. You don't know what to do because you don't want to embarrass yourself by bursting into tears over a little shouting, but you already know it's too late. Alfie really scared you, and he's never scared you before.

🐻 So you can't hold it back, you're trembling all over with the effort of fighting your tears, some have already escaped, you've swallowed down a sob already but it's the fact that Alfie's not even looking at you. The way he shouted at you so sharply, so harshly, and he isn't even looking at you now. You're struggling to reason with your own anxiety, convinced that you've done something wrong, that he hates you...

🐻 but then he hears it. The sound of your choked sob, one you'd tried and failed to hold back. And once the first escapes the damn breaks and you're in floods of tears. You don't move, frozen to the spot but your hands are over your face and your crying so mournfully that the sound sends an icy shard through Alfie's heart. Suddenly the hidden explosive is the least of his worries.

🐻 "Fuck," he grumbles to himself, telling himself off for snapping at you, "gentle Alfie what have I fuckin told you man, sometimes yeah you have to be fuckin gentle..." he's grumbling to himself as he reassesses his predicament. He knows he needs to get to you and get you to safety but he knows he can't get to you without risking your safety.

🐻 So he sighs. "Ziskeit, my dear, y/n poppet I'm sorry yeah, didn't mean to shout at you ziskeit, didn't mean to shout.. that was just me you know... panickin right, but I shouldn't have shouted at you yeah lovely girl I'm sorry..." he's making his way towards you very slowly and very carefully, talking soft and gentle, hands out because he doesn't want to startle you. His eyes flickering with concern between you and the wire you almost tripped.

🐻 "See my ziskeit, down there right by your feet yeah, there's a wire right and I need you to be very careful cause it's very dangerous yeah..." he doesn't want to scare you more than he already has but he also doesn't want you to move and accidentally set it off.

🐻 When he finally gets to you he doesn't hesitate to wrap his big arms around you and give you the warmest, tightest bear hug. He holds you firm against his chest, strokes your hair and cradles your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His beards tickley on your cheek and you're all wrapped up in the comfort of his musky scent.

🐻 "There, there my little ziskeit, s'alright now yeah, your Alfie's got you my darlin an he ain't lettin you go.."

🐻 He takes your hands from your face, won't let you hide and then he wipes your tears away with his thumbs. You can't just turn the waterworks off though and the tears keep coming.

🐻 Alfie feels so guilty.

🐻 But he'd hold your face in his hands and put his forehead against yours, looking down into your watery wounded eyes with such an intense devotion.

🐻 "Didn't mean to scare you poppet, please don't be scared now yeah, I'm here, I love you... I didn't mean to shout."

🐻 He'd probably call Ollie or one of his trusted men for help, he'd be instructing them on how to undo and disarm Tommy's trap, all the while still holding you and hushing you. The contrast between the way he barks orders at his men and then turns to you with the most tender, soft voice, shushing you and stroking your hair.

🐻 Promises he'll never shout at you again, but also, because he knows what he's like he also promises that if he does raise his voice at you, it won't be because he's angry and it won't be because he hates you. It'll be because he'd a stupid old man who forgets himself sometimes.

🐻 You'd sniffle, this shy smile on your lips as you tell him "you're not a stupid old man..." and he'd just chuckle, kiss your nose and brush your hair away from your tear stained cheeks, probably catching another tear on his thumb. "I am for making my ziskeit cry, but, you have my word now don't you girl, ain't ever gonna make you cry again..."

🐻 It's a big promise but Alfie is truly devoted to you and so protective of you that he really does hold it against himself forever. He's always viewed himself as your protector so the idea that you were scared of him is horrifying to him. He really does intend to keep his promise.

🐻 Will set a rule in the bakery and the warehouses that if you're around nobody is to raise their voice for any reason. He'll spin some bullshit about how it's very fucking rude and inconsiderate to shout when there are women and children present. If anyone breaks that rule Alfie will not hesitate to silence them in his own special way.

Arthur

🍂 It's probably not the first time this has happened let's be real here, this is probable not even the first time this has happend this week...

🍂 Arthur's emotions aren't exactly the easiest thing to endure... for either of you. He has a quick temper and he doesn't know how to express himself. If he's scared he turns to violence, if he's upset, he turns to violence, if he's angry, violence... even when he's happy or excited something usually gets broken, he usually forgets himself, talks too loudly... shouts...

🍂 And even though you're used to Arthur and his loud, uncontrollable and often unpredictable ways, you've never been able to get used to his yelling. You've always been easily startled and people yelling, raised voices has always set you on edge. And when someone shouts at you well, you always cry. You can't help yourself and you feel so stupid for it sometimes too... especially when it's Arthur who has made you cry because you know you should be used to it by now. You know what he's like... when he shouts and you start crying you always feel like a stupid child who can't control her own emotions.

🍂 But Arthur understands how that feels. It's not like he can control his either...

🍂 So of all the Blinders Arthur is the most sympathetic. It's not just that he feels terribly guilty for making you cry, it's that he hates how bad about yourself it makes you feel too and he wants you to learn not to be so hard on yourself.

🍂 So, he's always trying his best not to shout, for whatever reason... sometimes he comes home ecstatic about something that happened at the Garrison, he's half way through shouting through the house for you when he cuts himself off.

🍂 "Nah what have I fuckin told you Arthur Shelby, indoor voice for y/n, nice, gentle indoor voice..."

🍂 But of course this is Arthur and no matter how hard he tries he forgets himself and loses control on the regular. And when he does you also lose control... Arthur is an intimidating man at the best of times and when he shouts he is so fucking scary... especially when he's shouting because he's angry, and especially if he's shouting because he's arguing with you...

🍂 When that happens you probably don't just cry, you burst into tears, really dramatically... you'd shrink away from him, curl up on the floor crying your heart out, shaking, sobbing into your skirts and then when he realises what he's done it hits him in the gut and he does cold, panicks. He feels so guilty for scaring you again and rushes to try and hug.

🍂 Gets down there on the floor with you and bundles you up in his arms. His whole demeanor changes in an instant, all the fight knocked out of him in seconds as he rushed to comfort you.

🍂 Cradles you to his chest, rocking you to sooth you as he apologises over and over again. "For fuck sake darlin come here, fuckin 'ell I'm such a bloody idiot, I'm sorry my darlin I'm fuckin so sorry alright... didnt mean to scare you girl, y'know I love you don't I, ain't gonna hurt you, didn't mean to scare you just forgot meself that's all, you're alright my girl, I've got you eh, your Arthur loves you very much an he's very fuckin sorry for being such a fuckin dinlow eh..."

🍂 You'd be clutching at his shirt, sobbing into his chest, doing your best to calm yourself down, mentally chastising yourself for being so stupid because you know he didn't mean it, you know it was an accident, that you're safe with Arthur, that he won't ever hurt you... but even so, he scared you so much...

🍂 you'd push yourself up in his lap and try to wipe your tears away, probably trying to pull away from him and act as though everything was fine even though all you want to do is nestle deeper into his embrace and hold onto him until your heart stops racing.

🍂 And Arthur knows you well enough to recognise what you're doing so he isn't going to just let you go and pretend you're fine.

🍂 "Right now where dya think you're goin darlin..." he'd start, catching your hand and tugging you back into his lap, his arm locking around your waist, the other hand using his sleeve to dry your eyes. "Look at me yeah, got all the time in the world eh so I don't know what you're rushin off for darlin..."

🍂 "S'alright I'm alright now Arth was just being stupid wasn't I, you didn't scare me it's fine just bein..." but he'd cut you off shaking his head, giving you that frown which means 'dont give me all that rot y/n, I know you.'

🍂 "Nah," he'd say, "now don't start with all that shit now darlin, not wi me eh, I did scare you and you ain't stupid for bein scared neither... you ain't stupid at all..." "but..." when you try to argue he holds your face in both hands, your nose pressed up against his, his scruffy hair tickling your cheek as he gets right up close to you. His eyes are so intense when they lock with yours. "No buts now sweetheart, I fuckin scared you, I know I did and I'm fuckin sorry for it too... I'm the one who lost control so I'm the one who has to apologise right love, so I'm fuckin sorry yeah sweetheart, I hate scaring you an I never wanna do it again yeah... need to start using me fuckin brain eh love..."

🍂 But you hate seeing him put himself down so you're there holding his face in your hands too, looking up at him with such intensity, such stubbornness, it would be infuriating for him if he didn't currently feel so guilty. "You're not a fuckin idiot Arthur... don't call yourself stupid alright..."

🍂 For you and Arthur these scenes always end in the most loving of embraces, him holding you tight against him, you sitting in his lap on the floor, the two of you holding onto one another so carefully, so lovingly, your eyes locking as you tell eachother again how much you love one another. Your lips meeting in a desperate adoring kiss. One neither of you want to pull away from.

🍂 "Fuckin love you my darlin, don't even mean to upset you eh, I'll try harder yeah, Indoor voice from now I promise..." he says in as close to a whisper as Arthur Shelby can manage, kissing your face all over. Kissing away the last of your tears.

🍂 He always promises he won't shout at you again, you always promise you'll stop crying when he does. Both of you know that in a couple days time you'll be going over the whole routine again.

John

🌼 For all that John is a very laidback man, he has a temper on him and he has a very strict sense of morals, right and wrong (despite all of his moral activities) and when he feels strongly about something he will argue about it... and he has a temper on him.

🌼 When he loses his temper things can get messy, too emotional... He doesn't usually lose him temper with you though and so when he does it comes as even more of a shock.

🌼 He doesn't mean to start shouting at you, he already knows you don't deal well with it... Your voices have both been raising slowly as the arguments been escalating and when he finally starts really shouting you shout right back...

🌼 He didn't even realise he'd shouted until he heard your voice shouting back... suddenly cracking because you're trembling, because you've been fighting back your tears and they've just escaped.

🌼 He sees the tears streaming down your face and realises that you aren't even shouting because you're angry, your shout was one of fear. A "Stop it! Stop fucking shouting at me John fucking stop it!" Your hands over your ears as you shout at him from across the kitchen table, your eyes desperate with heartache and fear.

🌼 For a second you're looking at him with real upset and shock, like you don't recognise him at all, like he isn't your John anymore...

🌼 He feels terrible. He's gripped with guilt, a pain in his throat squeezing and aching, he's choked up by tears in his own eyes. Sometimes feelings are too big and John can't handle them.

🌼 Views himself as being the good family man, a loving, caring husband, a protective father, the man who looks after everyone, provides for them, so the idea that he could have done to his wife the one things she really can't handle, disgusts him. He's really disappointed in himself and he's determined to make it up to you.

🌼 He'd raise his hands up in surrender, his eyes full of guilt, his cheeks a little flushed as a tear escapes his eye, he's stepping away from the table, approaching you cautiously.

🌼 "Am sorry flower, I'm sorry..." his voice is wobbling but he's talking quietly now, as if lowering his voice like this is going to make up for the violence of his shouting at you moments before... and it does a little, or at least, his sudden effort to be gentle and careful calms you, lets you know you're not in danger.

🌼 He'll wrap his arms around you carefully, waiting for you to come to him, waiting for you to let him hold you. But when you feel the outline of his embrace you crumble, throwing your arms around him, sobbing into his neck as he closes his hold around you a little tighter, keeping you secure.

🌼 He'll hush you and rock you, doing his best to calm you down, all the while apologising for losing his temper.

🌼 "I'm so sorry little flower, I shouldn't have shouted at you, shouldn't have lost me temper that was fuckin stupid of me wasn't it..."

🌼 Lots of kissing your hair and your forehead. Will hold you as long as you need to calm down.

🌼 Will wipe your tears and tap your nose. Will hold your face in both his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheeks, forehead to forehead promising you very passionately that he'll never shout at you like that again. You can see it in his eyes how strongly he feels, he's got tears in his eyes and he's perhaps crying a little too. He's talking but his jaw is clenched and the words are forced through his teeth so they come out really shaky but certain.

🌼 You catching his tears on your thumbs and brushing them away. The two of you eventually smiling at that, making a little joke about how over emotional you both are.

🌼 If you try to apologise for having cried, or if you try to joke about your tears, how silly it was of you to cry just because he shouted at you he will shake his head, cut you off all "no, no... no way flower, you ain't silly for cryin, you ain't supposed to like bein shouted at and your husband definitely ain't supposed to be shoutin at you like that neither..."

🌼 He'll be extra sweet to you for many days to come, bringing you flowers, talking particularly gently to you too. Lots of affection, hugs, kisses, holding your hand whenever he can, layering it on thick so that you know he still loves you... he knows how sensitive you are and knows that you'll still be worrying about the argument days later, so he'll do as much as he can to show you he loves you.

🌼 Once during a particularly heated family meeting Tommy shouted down the table at you for something you said, John was livid, white as a sheet with rage as he put his arms around you and stood protectively behind you. He was glaring so sharply his stare could have sliced Tommy open. Later you heard them scrapping when everyone else had left.

Bonnie

🍀 Bonnie is such a calm lad, he never shouts even when he's threatening other people. He's not the kind of man who raises his voice unless he really has to, he's usually the quietly threatening, controlled anger, spitting his threats through gritted teeth, not yelling...

🍀 It would take one hell of an argument, you'd both be feeling fragile and desperate, both of you shaking with he strength of the heartache and distress you're feeling.

🍀 Whatever you're fighting about it's been brewing for awhile so you both have so many thoughts, so many troubled feelings you need to get off your chest...

🍀 And when he does shout its because he feels a sudden panic, has a sudden fear that he will never be able to explain himself, never be able to make you understand... it's a truly desperate shout, almost a plea... "Would you just listen to me for a second love I'm trying to..."

🍀But he doesn't even finish the sentence, the second he realises he's yelled at you he feels a wee bit sick, his hands shaking and suddenly he can't speak at all. He's watching you, you're frozen, starring back at him with these terrifyingly sad wide eyes...

🍀 he can see he's just broken your heart.

🍀 For a moment theres silence, you're just starring back at him in shock, he's watching you, scared to move or say another word because if he does he's worried something between you will break. That you're both hanging on by a thread.

🍀 And when the thread snaps and you come back to life, your hand rising to cover your mouth and catch your sob, your eyes closing as your whole body shivers with the effort of fighting back tears, Bonnie watches you with this hollow weight in his stomach, this cold lump of guilt.

🍀 Swallows a lump in his throat, his voice quiet and shaky when he speaks again.

🍀 "Fuck, fuck I'm so sorry dove... don't cry, don't cry dove I'm sorry," he's speaking softly, hesitant to try and hug you because he saw the fear in your eyes and he's not sure you want him to come any closer now. "Please forgive me y/n I'm sorry, can I..." he trails off reaching for your hand, tugging you gently into his arms.

🍀Whatever you were fighting about it simultaneously ceases to matter to him and also becomes completely unsolvable...he's scared youre never going to look at him the same way again. He's supposed to be your man, your protector, the one person you can always trust and now he's let you down, he's scared you... he really resents himself for that, can't forgive himself for scaring you.

🍀"I'm sorry little dove," he'd whisper, his voice soothing, his breath brushing your cheek as he promises he won't shout like that again, "s'okay sweetpea, s'alright..." but he doesn't feel like its alright.

🍀 He'll hold you as snug as he can, but carefully too, treating you extra delicately, he's really hesitant to hug you too tightly or kiss you in case you're scared of him now.

🍀 "Don't be scared of my dove, you're breakin me heart," he says it with a teasing little smile, trying to get a giggle from you or something but you can hear the heartbreak in his voice and you know he's really telling the truth.

🍀 When you settle down a little you nuzzle into him, "Sorry Bon..." you sniffle trying to dry your eyes, caught out and speechless when he catches your hands in his and, strokes his thumbs over your palms. "What you sayin sorry for eh sweetpea? Am the one whose sayin sorry now..." he chuckles, holding your palm up to his lips and kissing your hands.

🍀 Even if you feel better quickly, soothed by Bonnie's sweetness, he won't feel better about it. The guilt will stick with him for a long time, one of those memories that comes back in the middle of the night and makes him cringe.

🍀 He's extra soft with you for the rest of the day and the morning after too, treating you like he's scared you're going to break. He speaks quietly and gently and he'll treat you with such tenderness, holding you at every opportunity, holding your hand even if you're just sitting together. Any excuse to kiss you or tell you he loves you.

🍀 Because he knows how upset you get when someone yells at you, if anyone else ever makes you cry by raising their voice at you Bonnie's fierce protective side will snap and he will be raring to defend you. You have had to talk him down from fights because of this.

Isaiah

🐀 He'll be so shocked when you start crying... he's seen you witness so much "worse" than shouting before... so he really wasn't expecting you to burst into tears when a drunk man at the bar raised his voice at you. He turns with a frown, brows tugged in in confusion as he blinks at you struggling to process the sight of you with tears streaking your face. He honestly didn't think anything could phase you...

🐀 For a second he's stunned but he soon snaps into action... "For fuck sake man now look what you've done!" He groans turning to the man behind your tears, "gone and made me girl cry ain't you... now I have to hurt ya..." he says with a cruel grin, as if he hadn't been intending on hurting the stupid cunt who'd been eyeing his girl up with lecherous eyes all evening anyway. "Don't get me wrong like... I wanted to anyway yeah, you've just given me a good excuse..."

🐀 Once he's satisfied he's fucked the stupid bastard up enough, he turns his attention back to you. He's not expecting to see you still crying, in fact he'd kind of been hoping he'd just imagined it, been hoping he was just going crazy like Arthur... but he isn't, and you are still crying.

🐀 And Isaiah isn't good with crying girls, doesn't know what to do about all those tears, feels totally at a loss.. especially because he's never seen you cry before.

🐀 will try to joke about it, not teasing you harshly, just making a little joke about how 'easily' scared it turns out you are... "You had me fooled mousy..."

🐀 This earns him a pretty firm slap from Ado who's jaw has just hit the floor... "Fuck sake dinlow whatre you doing making it bloody worse!" She'd be all arms crossed and shaking her head, muttering about how men these days are all the fucking stupid same.

🐀 but her slaps gotten through to Isaiah at least who is looking at you now with a somewhat more awkward smile, but he takes your hand and offers you a hug. This is the most stunted a conversation with Isaiah could possibly be and you're beginning to feel a whole different kind of anxious.

🐀 "Right for fuck sake, I've had enough of this.." Ada cuts in, "you.. give your girlfriend a fuckin hug alright," she'd say pointing at Isaiah and then pointing at you, "and you.. god sake girl get yourself a better fuckin boyfriend eh?"

🐀 "Alright Ada piss off yeah I've got her, she's alright now ain't you mousy..." Isaiah would groan, he's embarrassed by Ada pointing out his flaws but hes showing it as frustration instead. He will take her advice onboard however, he isn't that stupid.

🐀 He'll put his arm around your shoulder and squeeze you into his side steering you outside for a cigarette and some cool night air. He knows you'll be embarrassed about crying so he wants to take you somewhere quiet.

🐀 "Sorry for laughing at you doll you just took me by surprise... ain't like you is it... crying..." he'll say gently, he's sharing a cigarette with you, taking a drag or two and then placing it between your lips carefully. This is something he only does when he's trying to make you feel extra close and cosy with him.

🐀 He's quite curious about it, wants to understand why you cried, wants to know what it is about raised voices that you just can't deal with. And this curiosity isn't so that he can mock you, it's so that he can help you. He never wants to see you cry like that again so he wants to help you get over your fear...

🐀 He will offer you lots of reassurance, "you know I'm always here for you love, won't ever let anyone hurt you yeah... so even if someone does shout at you you ain't got nothin to be scared of yeah?"

🐀 He'll remind you that now you're with the Peaky Blinders you're always going to have someone near by to protect you. That men like "that cunt inside" will think twice about raising their voice at you...

🐀 Will hold your hand for the rest of the night, giving it reassuring squeezes at seemingly random moments. His affections will be subtle but constant all night and he'll make sure you feel safe.

🐀 If ever he shouts when you're nearby he'll remember himself quickly, apologising to you as soon as he can, making sure you're alright. If other Peaky lads chastise him for this he'll sock them round the back of the head no hesitations.

🐀 He's too easy going and because he doesn't want to shout at you, he avoids arguments like the plague, he'd rather just let most things slide until an issue absolutely has to be addressed because he's worried that if he gets swept into a row with you he won't be able to stop himself from losing his temper. He isn't sure yet whether this tactic is going to serve him well.

Michael

☘️ Its a heated argument, one which really give meaning to the phrase "blazing row." You and Michael are both furious with one another over a disagreement which has been stewing and bubbling away for weeks. One about Tommy Shelby and the unreasonable pressure he puts on his younger cousin.

☘️ When the row started it was because you wanted Michael to stand up to his cousin, you'd tried to encourage him to put his foot down, to start saying no every now and then when Tommy's demands crossed boundaries, but Michael didn't want to. he said you didn't understand the family, that you were sticking your nose into something which doesn't concern you.

☘️ And because you care so much about Michael you can't let go, won't back down. And because he cares about you and doesn't want you winding up in trouble Michael refuses to back down too. And thats how you end up screaming at one another in the middle of breakfast one morning.

☘️ He's so angry he doesn't notice that you aren't just shouting to match his fierce temper. He doesn't notice that you're trembling all over, that your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are wide and white - more like a deer in the headlights than a dragon.

☘️ The argument would peak with you unleashing all your fear and hurt, all your desperation into one shattering scream, "Leave me alone Michael for fuck sake leave me alone!" you shout over your shoulder when you go running off into the garden and he follows. HE doesn't listen however and it takes you picking a rock up and throwing it in his direction for him to get the message and let you go.

☘️ You run away for the rest of the day, go disappearing down the lane storming into the park up the street, finding a bench or a tree to sit beneath, hugging your knees to your chest and sobbing into your skirts.

☘️ Meanwhile at home Michael is pissed off, pacing, getting angry, damaging furniture as his temper gets the better of him. He's fuming, he can't get his head around why you ran away. Why you were so upset. . He thinks you behaved childishly and doesn't understand why you ran off like a little girl...

☘️ It takes you both a long time to calm down and when you do you really don't want to go back to the house, so you go to Polly's instead, you don't tell her about the row but you drink tea with her and wait for Michael to turn up. (Pol assures you he always comes to her when you've been fighting)

☘️ And when he does show up that evening he's been drinking whiskey and his mood is bitter and self pitying.

☘️ "Let me guess Michael my boy, you and y/n had a row... she got upset, she ran away, she..." "Came here," he smirks shaking his head with a small self deprecating smile, "hiya love..."

☘️ He won't apologise for shouting because you were shouting too, and because Michael never apologises for anything. But he will pour the two of you some tea and try to talk to you a little more softly than before.

☘️ "You worried me love, running away from me like that...gave me a scare..." "You were shouting at me," you shrug sullenly. He would be struggling not to let his temper flare again. "You were shouting at me too to be fair love... and anyway, you're not a little girl are you, you don't run away from someone just for shouting..."

☘️ You'd bristle, getting defensive, fresh tears glossing your eyes then, a painful lump in your throat when you realise he doesn't understand and maybe isn't going to.

☘️ "No," you say, voice catching in your throat, "but what kind of man likes screaming at his girl?" When you ask him that he won't be able to ignore the guilt he feels. He'll be struggling to swallow down the lump in his throat too and he'll reach for your hand across the table, brush his thumb over your knuckles as he looks you in the eyes, tries to find an unspoken equilibrium between the two of you. Something to two of you can hold onto despite your differences.

☘️ "Alright," he says finally, let's out a little sigh and squeezes your hand. "No more shouting eh how does that sound?"

☘️ When you nod your head, your smile forming slow but wide, he mirrors your warm expression and leans back in his chair, tugs your hand across the table so that you'll stand and come sit down in his lap.

☘️ "No more shouting it is then y/n," he says holding your waist in his hands, feeling closer to you at last, enjoying the comfort of your familiar shape beneath his hands. He'll point to his cheek then all, "come on love, give us a kiss eh? Forgive me?" and he'll wait until you do lean in to place a kiss on his cheek before he catches yours in his palm and steers your mouth towards his.

AN/ hope these were what you were hoping for lovely, I honestly am not sure I've done your request justice but I don't think I can write much more so sorry about that :/

Taglist:

@jomarch-wannabe @zablife @call-sign-shark @marwwfairy@toddlerbodybag@mollybegger-blog@inalovesrabbits-blog @elina-777@impossibleheartflower@liliac-dreamer@everysage@itsghostgirlyo

[dira333]

Behind the scenes of a Tumblr Writer - Tag Game

Hey there, I love behind the scenes and since this is something that's rarely talked about, let me start the chain... if you feel uncomfortable with a question, just skip it. You can add some if you want as well.

Started writing: I wrote my first Harry Potter fanfic at age 10. Started posting around 15,16 years old. I'm now 31, so...

Started blogging: I started on a German fanfiction site around 2010/11 I think. Might have been earlier too, but back then I was mostly reading, no posting. I really started when I got into One Direction (very late, tbh)

Followers: Currently at 961, which is wild to me. I don't even know that many people IRL. I convince myself that half of them are bots tbh, so I don't freak out all the time.

Communication: The people I talk to regularly are: a few writers who answered after I constantly reblogged and commented on their works and a few people who commented and reblogged my work. Writing and blogging on here can be pretty lonely, depending on your personality and the time you're active (I'm from Europe and a lot of my followers seem to be living in Northern America, so there's the Timezone thing) ... And I found that the best way to strike a conversation is to reblog, comment, and to not be shy. I do wish I got more asks, though....

Likes: I actually filter them out. I have 793 original posts up at the moment. It doesn't give me anything to know how many likes a fic has other than to tell me which characters are liked more than others or maybe that one fic does especially well. My activity only shows me comments, asks, reblogs with tags, and answers to my own asks. I live for the tags and the comments.

Requests: I love talking to people about ideas. That's how I started the plotbunny game because I have so many ideas and so little time. And sometimes an idea just doesn't want to be written out fully. Requests are fun because YAY, I get some mail... but then I freak out because I don't really know how to write this NOW and then I freak out because it's been a week already, two weeks, wait, two months? I'd rather have suggestions where people tell me vague things like "I'd love to read something about this side character" or "Have you ever considered this character with a soulmate trope"? because then I don't have the feeling of failing the request when I write it a little bit differently.

Writing: I am a fast writer. I know that's one of my talents. I can churn out a oneshot of 1k words in less than an hour. People read slower than I write. That can suck sometimes because you've just posted this and you want to know what people are thinking but they're not as fast as you are. I do have a lot of ideas. I want to write constantly but my brain doesn't always want to. I am trying to respect that.

There are also certain things that I just feel wrong writing. I cannot write anything suggestive (I also don't like reading it) and everything past that gives me panic attacks. I can hardly write mean characters and jealousy feels so wrong to me that I cannot write it. I've also overdone it with the soulmark trope and now I feel like everything I write about it feels lifeless.

I write best in the mornings before going to work, but I don't have much time there. I don't need special music (but it helps), but I need to have at least some energy left and at best, no distractions. But I have been writing for over 20 years, so I will say experience helps a lot.

Tagging: @revasserium @shoulmate @lemurzsquad @screamin-abt-haikyuu @toomanygoldfish @satorisoup @emmyrosee @reverie-starlight @alienaiver and @writingsofanomnivore and everyone else who wants to join

[darkbluekies]

sometimes i wonder if i have ever met, walked by or met eyes with one of my readers in real life without either of us knowing.

because in my first year of swedish highschool (age 16) i was sitting with my new friends on the subway and we were talking about different books we liked and I said that "I am actually writing a story that I don't know how to continue" and i started telling them vaguely about the story because it was a kpop fanfiction and I was worried that they would judge me if they knew. My new friend says "I think I've read something quite similar to that" and I was worried because I have been copied in the past ... turns out she had been reading MY story and had no idea that the writer was ME

it just makes me wonder, you know? That is, still to this day, the most insane thing that has ever happened to me. She wasn't even a fan of the group i had written the fanfiction for? How the hell did she find it?

[eccentricallygothic]

for a fic idea: chris evans x reader going on a date to a carnival and then having a picnic

Thank you so much for the ask/request! This is literally the first Chris as Chris piece I've ever written omg! I prefer to write requests in hc form so I hope you don't mind…? Hope you enjoy <3 

Disclaimer: For whatever it's worth, this is a fictional version of Chris hence fanFICTION because I don't know him in real life and I don't want to either so no silly talk from anyone, please <3

Warning(s): Fluff, kissing, rides, minor consensual groping, tickling, picnic.

Note: Reader is definitely gender-neutral. Requests are open. 

Chris definitely spoils. 

He's one of those boyfriends who tower over pretty much everyone else in the crowd and have to constantly move his broad shoulders around to avoid touching anyone else.

Holds your hand very tight in his bigger one.

Because he knows how upset you get if someone pushes you both apart as it has happened in the past, resulting in you almost getting lost and crying. 

Has to wear a cap to avoid being recognized so you prefer to hang near the areas where there's masquerades and the like so you can enjoy some privacy as well as freedom. 

Buys you basically everything you look at. 

He's definitely the kind of person who is always so excited about the rides that he drags his partner with him while promising them that he will be there with them and they can hold his hand. 

Isn't a lie, man protects you like it's his job. 

But has more embarrassing photos of you on said rides than you'd like to admit. 

So much carnival food and mini games. 

Coming back home from such places with a huge stuffie is mandatory. 

"Chris!" You squeal as you struggle to jog beside him, your breath hot in your masquerade mask and a hand on your bulging tummy. All you had said was that the caramel popcorn smelt nice. And then you had had to deal with a whole tub of it after he had already bought you so many things to eat before. "Hang on, oh my God!" 

It is cute how his 'mature' age has not harmed his vivacity because it makes him so fun to be around. He is very easy going and just plain comfortable. You don't have to worry about pretending in front of him and he doesn't do it either. 

His good nature and open display of his affection for you is always heartwarming and honestly… downright attractive. 

A confident man who plays no games with nothing but love and adoration to offer.  

"Come on, baby! The photo booth is finally empty!" Chris is excited like a child as he basically shoves the coins in the slot. He has had an eye on the previously packed booth for a while now. 

It was little things like this that mattered to him a lot. 

From your favorites to little souvenirs, cute clips and pictures of you to how you liked your drinks, all your little rituals and what each of your facial expressions meant to everything else, he had them all memorized through quiet observation. 

Being the extrovert that he is, your boyfriend is otherwise very vocal about his affection for you but that does not mean that he makes a show of these things. 

They're just little things that he likes to do for you; his precious baby.

You yelp and then giggle when he plops his butt down on the seat inside the booth with a loud smack before pulling you in with him– more like, on him. 

"Chris!" The squeal has no effect on him and he goes on his goofy ways as you both pose with your masks on for some pictures. 

Then something suddenly shifts in your boyfriend, as it often does when you're in his general vicinity, and he pushes his mask up before doing the same to yours after turning your face towards his. 

His lips are on yours before you know it and his hands bolt from your waist and knee right to your ass, the tight squeeze making you draw in a sharp breath against his mouth. 

The clicks of the camera keep on going as you circle his neck with your arms, pulling him closer and letting his tongue dominate your mouth as you whimper from his natural dominance that comes out in moments like these. 

He doesn't have hardcore tastes for intimate activities but he is always willing to try for you. 

"Taste so good as always, baby" Chris is breathless when he finally pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, the reel reaching its limit at the same time; almost as if it's aware of how private the moment is. 

It's the little quirks. How he wraps his arm around your waist when you become too self aware in public sometimes, or how he tightens his hold on your hand when there's a crowd, the way he's always looking over you and covering the edges and corners of the furniture around you with his hand to make sure it doesn't nick you and how he goes the extra mile to make sure you're reassured and comfortable.

You love this man with your whole heart.

"Or maybe it's all that caramel popcorn" you tease and he widens his bright blue eyes, thick lashes decorating the area below his eyebrows in the prettiest way. 

"Caramel popcorn?!" You start giggling at the comical way he says it. "Did someone say caramel popcorn?!" You know what's coming and so your Snickers increase in volume and you protestingly bounce on his lap, vehemently shaking your head and trying to get away but Chris is a strong man. "THE TICKLE MONSTER ALSO WANTS SOME CARAMEL POPCORN!" You throw your head back and your body twists when his fingers dig into your sides, the blush that his kisses had caused on your face now darkening due to how you were screeching against him, your tummy in pain from all the laughing. 

It's only when there's tears in your eyes and the annoyed people waiting outside call out for you two that you sheepishly step out with your masks down.

This particular carnival has cute little tent-like pavilions facing a huge screen in one of the prettiest gardens that you have ever seen. You don't have to do more than tug at Chris' sleeve and he follows your gaze before buying you two a spot. 

He insists that you don't pay for anything and to let him spoil you because all he wants is the unconditional love and genuine companionship that you provide him.

And honestly, who are you to reject all that Marvel money?

Just kids and jokes, of course. You try to chip in when you can but damn, it's hard to do that when your boyfriend is literally Chris Evans. 

The rest of the evening goes by with the both of you sipping some soda and feeding each other light snacks as some romcom plays on the screen, your form perched between his limbs with you back to his chest, Chris' chin propped on the top of your head and his thick arms cocooned around your body. 

.

Really hope you liked it <3 

[ivyblossom]

That thing where I feel like I'm going to have to write fanfiction again

This is a weird one. I just want to say it somewhere, so that I've said it somewhere, but I realize there's there's one person who actually cares about this and she already knows, so. This is just for me, I guess.

Fifteen years ago, I wrote most of a Narnia fic. It pairs of Edmund Pevensie and Bacchus, aka Dionysus, the ancient Greek god of grapes, wine and uninhibited ecstasy. Also theatre. I know, that's a bit weird. Is Bacchus even in the Narnia stories? (Yes, he is. He even has lines!) Why on earth am I pairing him up with Edmund, who is 10 when we first meet him?

It's all the weird memory tricks, I'm a sucker for those. The Pevensies forget about England because they stay so long in Narnia and stop thinking about England, and they can (and do) forget about Narnia if they stay in England too long and don't think about Narnia enough (poor Susan), and I find that really interesting. It offers up so many nooks and crannies to stick story in. They grow up and become adults in Narnia, but are required to forget most of it in order to return to build children in England.

And come on: is Bacchus not also very obviously the god of Narnian orgies? I mean, yes. Clearly. He's also Aslan's default caterer and water-into-wine head tech. If you need buildings destroyed and bullies turned into trees and/or pigs, Bacchus is your guy. He's not big on wearing clothes, and according to Edmund, he's incredibly beautiful and extremely dangerous. Edmund is only 10 when we first meet him, sure, but he grows up, reverse ages, and then starts to grow up again. Bacchus throws them a G-rated orgy in Prince Caspian. There's love there.

Hasn't Edmund suffered enough? Yes, he got addicted to the Turkish Delight that time, but he'd been struggling and was being bullied, he was carrying a lot of self-hatred and shame, give a kid a break. He did get himself heroically killed putting it right, only to be healed physically and psychologically by Santa Claus's magic healing cordial, as one does. Doesn't Edmund deserve a cute immortal boyfriend with quirky friends and a serious green thumb who grows his own grapes, makes his own wine, can manipulate and control the desires of everyone around him like conducting an orchestra, and who will love him until the end of time? There aren't many humans in Narnia, why not hook up with the god of uninhibited ecstasy? I mean, he's right there.

Anyway. It was fifteen years ago.

I wrote 3/4ths of it, I had one part left to go to finish it, I had an idea about what how it would end, but for some reason I never wrote the ending. I don't remember why. So it's been sitting there unfinished since 2009.

And in the last few weeks I started thinking about it again. I had an idea about that ending. I couldn't remember if this idea I was toying with was my original concluding idea or not, it's been that long, but I liked the idea, and I thought, you know, I should write that idea in as the last part and finally finish that thing.

And then I read what I'd written. And a) 15 years is a long time and I have so many criticisms, I was clearly in love with the sound of my own voice (uh...nothing's changed there I guess?), b) I wrote the thing in such a way to exclude my new idea, so apparently that wasn't my original plan, but c) yeah, I should have written this thing properly the first time around. And now I have 104 more ideas and I love them all, so.

I think I have to rewrite it. Or, I suppose, just write another one and replace it? I dunno. Just playing it out now.

I think I'm going to write it. Is this an active fandom? I don't think so. I don't care. This love story needs to be told. Edmund deserves this.

[bluestarjay]

After being on Tumblr for I think nearly a year, and making a fuck ton of posts and gaining mild popularity on certain posts and gaining a whopping 21 followers, I've never made a Hinata Harem post. So yall are finally lucky enough to hear my takes on it ❤️❤️❤️

So first of all, I kinda love the hinata harem thing bc it's actually so funny, but strangely, in a way, it's realistic. Not very well written most of the time, but realistic as a concept.

Bc like he gets along with basically the entire cast, and he sometimes compliments characters who are not used to being complimented, and that character may blush of embarrassment, and then the fandom takes that as shipping material, like with Goshihina. And it makes sense! Imagine you're rarely complimented, and you strive for validation from your peers, especially upperclassmen, and then suddenly, the cutest boy you've ever seen compliments you like you're the only person on the planet. And so then you purposely try as hard as you possibly can to make said boy continue to compliment you. Take this, then multiply it by 100, because I think that's how the harem trope, in Hinata's case, works.

This isn't meant to be in the way that he can be shipped with every single character because truly, he can't. Shipping Hinata with 3rd years, in a typical high school setting, is, at least imo (and not bc of the age gap itself), weird bc of the maturity difference. You shouldn't date a senior as a freshman bc you're on two separate maturity levels. And regarding all of the many 3rd years (tendou, daichi, suga, bokuto, etc), it's really the same exact thing just platonically. Bokuto is literally Hinata's older brother!! He adopted him as a student *and* sibling, bc he felt the same things everybody does, just in a *different* way.

The hinata harem, to me, is the display of hinata's character in reference to every other character, yk? To me, these select few people are actually in love with him, and these people have a "crush," which is more so a platonic feeling, and these people find a true, deep *friendship* with him, one that they've probably never experienced before, and therefore may look like a crush or love to an outside viewer. And, in these different relationships between hinata and other characters, they all love him. They all feel a loving connection with him, like how people would think in a harem, but it's not quite so because all of the people who love hinata love him in different ways.

Now, with how this harem is portrayed in fanfiction actually scares me bc half the people there are much older and mature than him (gen question why do ppl ship him with 3rd years /in high school/, like, I love Brazil Oihina sooooo much but hs Oihina is 😧😧😧) , and tbh it just gets out of control.

And alot of times I see Hinata reciprocate?? With multiple people?? Which is fine to an extent, imo like I love poly ships, I've seen a lot of really cute ones and some more interesting ones, and it's totally normal to have a crush on a few people at once but istg some people make him a goddamn player,,,

I recently read a harem-ish fic, which was much more similar to how I personally find it to be like, it was essentially people having a crush on hinata, or realizing it, and it was cute, but at the same time, Hinata asked one of them on a date, cuddled with like two other guys (which, normalize cuddling platonically but in the context of the fic it wasn't suuuuper platonic but wasn't suuuuuper romantic either iykwim), and the part of that that kinda icked me was just that he was getting on with so many people at once (the fic took place in the span of like a week, and there were like 5 people i think??). And a lot of other fics that are post time skip are just Hinata hooking up with the entire cast at some point???

Idk tbh but I do really like fics where everybody LOVES hinata, but only a few people are IN love with him. Just the balance of like ~5 people having a crush on him, half of the rest of them have adopted him in one way or another, and the other half have just found their new bff.

Btw I think that second to last paragraph is worded a bit poorly I just don't really know else to describe the fic so sorry if it offends anyone I'm free to edit it n if anyone wants more ship related stuff I got you (ALSO GIVE ME GOOD "HAREM" FIC RECS AS LONG AS THEYRE SFW AND COMPLETED!!) 💪💪💪

[0-sparkling-lace-0]

The Lab Assistant

Hey! Before I start I'd like to introduce myself. You can call me winky, or wink, or luna. Also, I'd like to say in no way shape or form am I a writer. I dabbled in it when I was younger, it's been well over 5/6 years since I've written anything, though. So that being said, I wrote this years ago on a Tumblr account that I had that is now deactivated, because I personally wasn't happy with my work.

sigh

Always the critic. Anyways, I found this in an OLD ASS Google doc, and decided to read it again. Um, why I thought it was bad is beyond me. I was like 18-19 when I wrote this, and thought it was terrible. It's not the best, but for someone who was literally only just starting to write, I'm not sure it's that bad. Also, I'd like to say that my interests have steered away from Rick & Morty since having written this, so I don't really see myself writing for this fandom again. If you like it, please let me know! Also before I start, here are some warnings and tags.

MDNI. WC:1.8k RickSanchez x LabAssistant!Reader/AFAB!Reader/Age Gap/Use of Y/N/Masturbation/(Maybe slight degradation? If not let me know.)/Oral (Giving&Recieving)/Pet Names(Use of Daddy, baby girl ect-nothing too extreme)/(if I've forgotten anything, let me know!) Also it's been so long that I've been in this fandom or have read any fanfiction with Rick involved. If it's fell out of touch to write him with burping and or his usual stutters, I'm so sorry. That's probably the only thing that made me cringe while re-reading this.

It was a day like any other, as I helped Rick with whatever he needed. "Screwdriver." He said with a gruff voice. Before I walked over to the box that held his tools, I peered over his shoulder to see what exactly it was that he was working on. Mildly interested, I grabbed him the screwdriver and handed it to him. "Final touches..." He announced finally after an entire day of working on whatever it was that he was working on. "Finished!" He shouted. I was excited to see what it was, finally. "So, what is it?" I ask curiously. He smirks at me, giving me wild eyes that I'm easily intimidated by. "It's a de-device that can-burp- read your mind." I step back cautiously. Usually, I'd be the first to offer myself up as a guinea pig-bearing in mind that there's no way he can delve into my mind and discover the parts of me that I wouldn't want him to see. I always sense he knows that I have feelings for him, but he never brings it up because I'm a third his age. Even if that's the case, I can't take the chance. "No, I don't want you in my mind." He laughs. "Why not? Have some d-deep dark secret that you don't want people to know about?" I narrow my eyes at him, giving him a look that says back off. "Maybe I do. But seriously, I don't want to test this one." He sighs an upset sigh. "Alright. Maybe I can bribe-burp- Morty into doing it later. It's been a long day, let's go to-to bed." I give him a sad smile before I apologize and waltz out of the garage door and into the kitchen. "Goodnight, Y/N." I looked at the clock above the sink and realized it's only 8:30. "You're really going to bed? Why don't you hang out with me a little? We can watch Ball Fondlers together." I smile at him with questioning eyes, not wanting him to go to bed yet. I'd spent the whole day with him and I still want to be near him. He gave me a dirty look before lugging himself up the stairs. Maybe I made him mad when I told him I didn't want to test the mind reader. I frowned before grabbing something to eat and heading upstairs. I grabbed my TV remote once settled in my cozy bed and turned on Netflix. I kept the volume on low, not wanting to disturb Rick and make him even more upset towards me. 2 episodes in I started to hear mumbling. Wait, no, was it moaning? Someone must bewatching a movie, or something. I try not to think about it as I pay attention to my show.After a while, it starts to get louder and my thoughts interrupt my concentration. "I can't deal with this." I hop off my bed and walk out into the hallway, following the sound. But as I get closer, I realize the moaning isn't coming from a TV. I look over to Rick's bedroom door and see it cracked a bit. I tiptoe over to it and slightly peek through. Immediately my face flushes red at the sight. Rick, on his bed with his pants and his boxers to his knees, hand furiously tugging at his member. I had to cover my mouth to not moan at the view in front of me. He's a moaning mess. I slowly start to feel myself get wet with every passing second. This is wrong, so wrong. I shouldn't be invading his privacy like this. But I just can't tear my eyes away. "Fuuucck, Y/N..." My eyes got wide and how could I possibly get wetter than I was already? I could feel the wet patch forming in my jeans. My free hand went down to touch my clothed core. I had to bite my hand to keep myself from making any noise, this was too good to be true, I didn't want to lose it. My confidence boosted as I heard my name being called once again. I grabbed the door handle and thought about it one more time before finally making my decision. I swung the door open as I said: "You do realize I'm less than half your age, old man." He jumped and looked startled before he smirked at me; not the reaction I was expecting. "How long have you b-been listening?" I hopped up on the bed and crawled over to him. "Long enough to know that you're lusting after me, your lab assistant-how taboo." He chuckled darkly before saying:

"Not my fault you have killer tits, babe." I looked down to my chest and then back up to him before smiling. "Really? You think I have nice tits?" "Don't flatter yourself. I know you have a -burp- huge crush on me." I sat back on my heels with a frown on my lips before I said: "Well, from the look of it, it seems that you've one on me too." I gestured to his throbbing cock, still on display. "Like I said, killer tits." A thought popped into my head before I grabbed the hem of my spaghetti strap tank top and pulled it over my head, not wearing a bra. I heard his breath hitch in his throat. I raised my eyebrow in a challenge. "Fuck it." He breathed before grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me closer into a kiss. Not a gentle one, but an all consuming, hungry one. I kissed back with fervor. He pulled his hand up to my tit and ran the pad of his thumb over my nipple. I reached down between his legs to grab his aching cock and pumped him. He grunted and bit my bottom lip. I stole a glance into his wild, lust blown pupils. He pulled away from the kiss to shove my head downwards. "Suck it." I let out an angry breath through my nostrils. "You can boss me around in the garage, but not in the bedroom." "Hah! You act li-like I'm paying you-you for hard work." I grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed slighty while he hissed in slight pain. "Don't dare treat me like a 2 cent whore, ask nicely and you'll get what you want." He let out an annoyed sigh before saying "Please dear, would you su-suck my dick." Although I'd like it to be less sarcastic and more sincere, I want to get this show on the road. So I take his tip into my mouth and give it kitten licks to tease and get my revenge.

He twines his hand through my hair and pushes my head all the way down. After pausing slightly to gain control of myself, I started to bob my head up and down. His hips started to move on their own. The only thing I could do was relax my jaw in order to not hurt him while he face fucked me. Soon enough he was twitching in my mouth and I could tell that he was close, so I stopped. "What the fuck are you doing?!" "I don't want you to cum yet. Like you said, I have a crush on you too, where's my fun?" "You little bitch." He said before grabbing me and flipping me onto my back. "You like tea-teasing me? Huh?" I giggled before saying, "Yes, I do." He growled before ripping down my jeans and panties all in one go. "You're my assistant. I'm above you. Where's your respect?" All I could do is laugh. "You don't intimidate me, Rick. Now are you gonna keep babbling or are you gonna shove your face where it belongs?" Taking jabs at each other was a normal thing for us, but in a scenario like this? It only made me love him more. He gave me a look that could kill before he finally lowered his head. He started at my knees, giving me soft open mouthed kisses and traveled slowly up to my inner thighs. I was starting to get impatient. I sat up on my elbows and said: "Just get on with it." He shot me a smile. "Oh no, babe. I'm gonna-gonna make you beg." I laid back down with a huff. He laughed softly. I could feel his breath on me now. Finally, he took a long stripe up the center of me. I put my hand over my mouth, hoping he wouldn't see, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He then started to suckle on my sensitive nub and I whimpered somewhat loudly into my hand. He looked up, angry. "None of that, baby. I want to-to hear you." When I didn't listen to him, he stopped. I whined at the loss of contact. "What? You wa-want me to keep going? Like I said, beg -burp- for it, honey." I looked in his eyes a long while before finally saying, "Please." "Nuh-uh. You gotta beg." He grazed his hand over my clit before quickly taking it away, and that was enough to make me want more. I grabbed his neck, pulled him closer to me, and whispered into his ear, "Please, Daddy." "Fuuuck. God, I can't wait-wait any longer." He rubbed his cock against my entrance a few times before finally pushing himself in. My arm flew over my face before I could moan out loud.

He growled once he saw and grabbed both my wrists and pinned them above my head. Once he was all the way in, he leaned down to my ear. "Is Daddy big enough for ya, baby doll?" I was lost. I couldn't hold back any longer. "Yes, fuck Daddy. You're so big." He laughed before pulling back out and ramming himself back into me. He took his hands to the backs of my thighs, lifting them and pressing them up, my knees close to my chest. "F-Fuck!" I moaned loudly into his shoulder. He started at a slow pace, over time growing impatient and speeding up. I swear I could feel the tip kissing my cervix, he was so deep. Before long I could feel the enticing feeling in my stomach start to pool, my walls around him beginning to clench. "You close, sweet-sweetheart?" All I could do is nod furiously, as words were beyond my comprehension. "Good, cum with Daddy. C'mon baby-baby girl. That's it." That was all I needed to be pushed over the edge. I felt him cumming along with me as I looked up at him to see his face contorted with pleasure, filling me up with his load. Panting, I grabbed his face and pulled it down to me, giving him a loving kiss. After a while of heavy breathing, he rolled away from me. I sat onto my side to look at him. When we caught eye contact he rolled his eyes. "C-C'mere." I smiled wide before nuzzling my face into his chest. He was playing with my hair before I looked up at him and said, "So, Ball Fondlers?"

[juliusceasersblog]

Mea-culpa

Warning, this is the first fanfiction I've written since 2021.... anyway!!

In this story, y/n is a not so innocent nun. She and the "beloved" Archdeacon of Paris are close. *Extremely* close.

Kinks ( innocence, degradation, sadism, masochist, size difference, breeding, orgasm control, age play )

Click, click, clack

The noise vibrated through the Cathedral as she walked. Pushing through the doors of the kitchen where Reverend mother Jaqueline was waiting.

"Those shoes of yours are absolutely far too loud, sister y/n." The stout woman replied as she walked over to younger girl.

"My apologies, Reverend mother..'' she spoke with a slight whimper at the end of her sentence. "They were given to me by my late sister. She passed of the pox." Y/n spoke with a shutter.

"I know child. You told me when you were in your novice training." The greying lady spoke. "I did?" Y/n shrugged. "I must've forgotten about it." The nun shrugged again.

"Archdeacon Frollo is requesting your presence in the hall of justice. Questions about the orphans singing at the Christmas mass." Reverend mother explained.

The Young nun sighed. "He couldn't call on sister Margaret?'' Y/n called out as she busied herself with pulling a cloth off rising sour dough. "He told me he'd like to talk to you in specific." Reverend mother explained.

"Alright. I suppose we did Have a rather interesting conversation at Thanksgiving mass." Y/n explained with a smile.

"Oh goodness. I suppose I should get going if Archdeacon Frollo would like to speak to me before the midnight bells begin to ring." Y/n laughed. "I'll see you in confession Reverend mother." The young girl smiled as she walked out of the kitchen.

The walk to The hall of justice was a cold one. Frost had accumulated around the windows of the Cathedral and as y/n threw her dark wool coat on. A ring of fur was around the collar of the coat. Another gift from Claudette. Y/n's late sister.

Y/n exited the Cathedral and the cold air of the parisian winter hit her in the face. The walk to The palace of justice was not a lengthy walk by any means.

But as y/n walked up the steps of the hall. Raising her hand to knock on the door. But before her fist could meet the door. A young soldier opened the door.

His blonde hair was rested against his head as a halo would rest against a angels head. "Hello, sister. I don't believe we know eacho-'' the young man was inturrupted ny the sister.

"Captian, we have met on several occasions. At Thanksgiving mass and at the children's benefit last week. Phoebus. Am I correct?'' Y/n said with a small smile spreading across her face. A light blush across her cheeks now.

"Oh- yes- your the one who I pulled under the stai-" the capitan cleared his throat as a hand was pressed to his shoulder. Spindly fingers that were adorned with rings and such.

"Ah, capitan Phoebus. Nice to see that you've found the woman of the hour." The Archdeacon snapped. "I've been waiting well over an hour for you. Sister." Claude clapped quickly. Escorting her up to his office.

The Archdeacon pressed the door of his office shut. Humming and handing y/n a paper. A large scroll of parchment with 3 unsigned signature marks. "Here.'' He said.

Pointing at the spot where the sister had to sign. "I need Reverend mothers signature as well." Claude explained as y/n dipped her quill in ink and Began to write her name.

"Of course, these things must be in order for the matron of the orphanage. She expects everything in pristine order. Although she is paying for none of it.'' Frollo laughed stiffly.

"Thats unfortunate. I suppose they don't have much money.'' Y/n shrugged as she handed the parchment back to Claude with a small smile.

"I do have to wonder. Sister. About something I over heard.." the Archdeacon started out. "With your novice training, you are not supposed to be having any sexual relations. And as I've seen on several occasions. You clearly aren't following any of your training." Claude smirked as he stalked towards the young lady.

"Excuse me? How dare to talk to me like that. This is highly inappropriate conduct." The sister shuttered. Had he seen captian Phoebus on his knees. Eating her out as the churchgoers got the holy communion.

"If you don't want you and your .. sun-god to be exposed to the entire church. I suppose you give me what." The older man smirked. Standing behind the sister.

"Your just like the rest of them aren't you? Men, you all want the same thing in the end.'' Y/n snapped.

Before the young woman could tell what was happening. Claudes arm had traveled up to y/n's face. His hand colliding with the nun's face. Earning a yelp from the sister.

Her face became quickly red. Her hand had sat upon her cheek. Whining softly. Y/n took her hand from her face. Putting them on Claude's chest. Resting against frollo with a whine.

Frollo took her face in his hand. Her chin in his forefinger and middle finger. His thumb resting against y/n's jaw. Bringing his lips to brush against the sisters own.

Frollos kiss was soon inturrupted as y/n bumped against his desk. She sat down and the Archdeacon yanked her skirt up. Kissing up her thigh. Nipping at the inside. Drawing blood.

Y/n let out a groan of pleasure as she pulled her habit off. Her hair sliding around to frame her face and shoulders. "Just- please fuck me already." The sister begged.

Claude brought his hand to cover the young woman's mouth. "Don't have such foul language in the house of justice.'' Claude said sternly. Standing up and undoing his robes. Black pants and a black shirt adorned his body.

Unbuttoned his pants quickly. Opening his hand. "Spit in it." He said quickly. Lathering his cock in y/n's spit. Groaning and taking her undergarments off quickly. Pushing into the girl as she put her hands on claudes shoulders.

Moving so y/n threw her head back. Moaning loudly and biting on Frollo's neck. "You certainly don't sound like a virgin.'' The Archdeacon taunted.

Y/n scoffed. "How many anatomy books have you looked at to know how sex works?" The sister taunted in response. Watching as claude growled lowly. Feeling his neck being bitten.

Claude let his hand move lower. Circling y/ns clit with tight and hard circles. Smirking as she bit down on her hand to draw blood.

The sister nearly came then and there. How was he so good at this? Was he a virgin. His movements inside of her said otherwise.

Frollos cock was large. Longer than it was girthier. Looking upon the girl as he felt her thighs began to shake. The soft flesh of her thighs shaking as she came around his cock. "F-fuck-'' the nun cried out.

"That was fast. Shall I cum inside you? On your ass? Your bosom?'' Claude called out.

"Inside of me- please?'' She begged. Claude was close himself. His age had been catching up with him snd he could tell he couldn't last as he used to.

Frollo came deep inside her. Spilling his seed all over her womb and kissing her as he did so...

_________________

That's it... #Yolo

[vindicated-truth]

I've been in online fandom spaces ever since I was 11 or 12—which is really not an age anyone should be left alone in the internet with. In our generation's defense though—as well as our parents' defense—we were the first generation to have online experiences in all its forms, including fandom, and no one really knew how to navigate the new virtual space, least of all our own technologically-challenged parents.

I'm now 35 years old, so it's been about two and a half decades of being a fangirl in varying degrees of fandom participation, but throughout the different fandoms I've been in, a lot of it has been spent both reading and writing fanfiction.

And what I've come to realize now, as I'm in the relatively older range of fandom, is that even the mindset changes.

I can tell now if a story, for example, is written by someone younger. And it's not even about the technical things like grammar or spelling, because a lot of writers have excellent technical writing regardless of age.

But it's in the inherent themes in the stories being written, the underlying philosophies and values that stand out the most to me. Even the perception of life, reality, dreams, and fears, it's all so fascinatingly—different now, when you're older.

And it's fascinating reading these stories written by younger fans, because it's also a stark reminder of how you were, too.

I'd think—oh, I used to be like that, too. I don't, anymore, but it's fascinating that I remember I once was.

It's not even a judgment of whether it's a good thing or not—it's just a statement of fact that even your own perceptions change as you grow older. For better or for worse.

I used to be a lot more idealistic, for one. And it makes me smile sometimes reading stories or statements by younger fans, because sometimes I think—I hope you never lose that. That spark and enthusiasm for life—hold on to that, and cherish that, because it can so easily be snuffed out despite your best efforts to protect it.

At the same time, I'm a lot kinder now. Sometimes I'd read stories and statements and see how angry and unforgiving and bitter some fans are and that would also make me think—someday, you'll understand. Someday, you'll realize that people are inherently flawed and more broken than they deserve to be, and it matters that you extend kindness to them, too.

Because you'll realize that you are just as flawed and broken as them, and you need them to be kind to you, too.

They aren't perfect, but then again—neither are you.

Sometimes I think of fandom history, and how it all started with older women in their 40s, 50s, and 60s back in the days of Star Trek: The Original Series, and how it's these older women who paved the way for younger girls all over the world and all subsequent generations to discover a community and passion that will keep that fire of life in you burning.

And I wonder how these older women think of all succeeding younger women, how the perspectives and values change over time.

I wonder how I'll be, too—ten, twenty, thirty years from now.

And it's why I sometimes find it amusing when younger fans say that older women are "too old" to still be in fandom space, when it's older women who created this space in the first place.

I wonder if these younger fans who are now in fandom realize that you never really grow out of fandom. You just grow in it.

And that's something noteworthy too. Because if anything, fandom is a written history of you, too. How you grow, how you change.

And most importantly, how you learn.

All this to say: do not shame anyone for being in fandom, regardless of age.

This is your story, too.

[voxmortuus]

Hi! How are you? So (Please don't judge me or kill me) I have this request about Hannibal x Fem! College! Reader (Age Gap) . Só Hannibal wants a baby but Reader wants to focus on her education. One day reader thinks that Hannibal is make a sex game but then ended in a non-con situation and in a forced pregnancy, what do you think? Please do not judge or kill me it's just a fantasy

PAIRING: Hannibal x Fem! College! Reader (Age Gap) (First Person POV)

UNIVERSE: Hannibal

WORDS: 766

SUMMARY/PROMPT: See above

Trigger Warning(s): Non-Con & Forced Breeding Implied and lightly described) | Blindfolding | Handcuffing | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this…

DISCLAIMER: DO NOT ROMANTICISE OR GLAMORIZE SERIAL KILLERS OR RAPE! I do not condone these actions, nor do I support them! This was written upon request. Do NOT send me hate mail, you will be blocked, do not post on this with any sort of negativity you will be blocked. If you don’t like it don’t read it it’s that simple!!! If you ever encounter this in real life please contact the Sexual Assult Telephone Hotline. Please understand this is a fanfiction, think of it like Hollywood. Also, I’m sorry if this is horrible…..

NOTE: Sorry if this isn't what you expected, I'm hoping this finds you well love! PLEASE!! If you ever need someone to talk to about this I extend my inbox to you!

IMAGE CREDIT: Divider by @firefly-graphics | Google I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THESE IMAGES. If these are yours or you know who the creator(s) is please INBOX me and let me know. Thank you.

My Master Masterlist | Hannibal Masterlist | Taglist

All of this was such a heavy price to pay, between tuition fees, and book costs, lab fees, I just wanted to focus on school, I just wanted to focus on my classes and graduate and get a good job! But that didn't seem to be what he wanted, he wanted more. He wanted a family. As much as I would love to give it to him, I just couldn't. I needed to focus and it was becoming increasingly difficult.

Coming home one night he approached me and looked me over, tucking some hair behind my ear. He gave me that charming smile, looked me in the eyes, cupped my face in his hands, and sighed softly.

"So, I've been thinking, maybe we could have dinner then we can try something new in the bedroom."

"New? What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I was thinking that maybe we could try some sensory things."

Looking at him, I let out a slight breath and nodded. Trusting him, I feel that nothing could really go wrong. Little did I know what he was actually planning on doing.

Dinner was fantastic, as usual, and there was no questioning to the amount of wine I had downed, but I didn't have class in the morning, so a little extra wasn't going to hurt.

When he took me to the bedroom it was all done up nicely. A special blindfold, and is that handcuffs? I tilt my head and let out a soft breath. Wined and dined, I feel him grab for my hand and pull me close. Pressing my back against him I rest my head against his shoulder and let out a soft breath.

Feeling his hands wrap around my waist and slowly move up to grip my breasts. I let out a soft moan and my eyes close. Feeling comfortable, feeling like I could take on the world at that moment. I lick my lips and feel his lips move to my beck. My hands draped at my sides as his hands moved under my shirt to remove my shirt, exposing my flesh to the frost-kissed windows.

Letting out another soft whimper I feel his hands moving down my body, looping his fingers in my yoga pants he strips them from me. Looking at me he drinks me in.

Leading me to the bed, I don't question. After all, he told me just what he wanted, and I was willing to oblige. Lying down on the fluffy, warm, welcoming bed. I feel my hands being cuffed to the headboard, and the blindfold being placed over my eyes. Biting my lip I anticipate everything coming my way.

Letting out a shaky breath I bite my lip and listen very carefully. I listen for what he could be doing. I hear the bed move, and fabric moving, his shirt being draped over the chair before he climbed into the bed. Biting my lip I feel his hips against mine. Returning the kiss it isn't long before his lips are moving down my body. As his lips capture a nipple I arch slightly into him and let out a soft whimper. Feeling myself growing wet between the hips I press them upward. Feeling the movement he unzips his pants and before I know it, he's shoving his bare cock into me. At first, I let out a soft whine, but then I grow to panic.

"Hannibal... stop, no. What are you doing?"

He doesn't say anything, he just picks up his thrusts. I start to kick, but I can't grip him, or let alone really fight back because he has me handcuffed.

"I said stop! STOP HANNIBAL! NO!"

But he ignored me. He didn't even bother listening. As he kept thrusting. I kept trying to twist my body but he had a strong grip on me. His thrusts became more painful, more demanding. He was going to get exactly what he wanted to get, and he was only hurting our relationship in the process.

"It's a game love, shhh..."

I knew better, I fuckin knew better!

Sitting there in the doctor's office, I look over at the ultrasound and let out a slow breath, shaking my head. I demanded to know, so the doctor did an ultrasound. Rubbing my face and cleaning the jelly off my lower stomach I close my eyes and shake my head.

After a few moments of talking to the doctor, I am sitting in my car, sniffling and wiping my nose. Picking up the phone I dial his number.

"Hello?"

"Hannibal... we need to talk."

[therealvinelle]

When was the first moment you realized you were fluent in English?

Love the question, but there haven't been any such moments for me, only assumptions that I sucked in the past followed that are disproven by finding out I didn't. For instance, I thought my early ventures into fanfiction.net were a haven of poor English. Except, when I looked at my old account, I found I really hadn't been.

Case in point, the first ever review I left on a fanfic. I was 12 (and... well-intended...):

I love this! But could you please update Black and Red, too? I have become adicted to both stories...

Perfect syntax and grammar, but you'll notice the typo. Oh the days without spellcheck, "addicted" not being a word that I saw frequently enough to have memorized (other difficult words, like "hilarious", or "insanity" are correctly spelled. Yes, yes I was mostly reading crackfic).

It provides a fun window into how I learned the language, and confirms that I was learning from what I consumed. Actual proof I have fanfiction to thank for much of my English!

Except when I started conversing with @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin, some years later, I actually struggled a lot with formulating my replies because I hadn't written that much English outside school context in ages at the time. There was a real language barrier on my end, while Muffin assumed I was a native speaker (Which of course had me assuming my English prior to speaking with Muffin as much as I do now must have been terrible, and being subsequently shocked when I saw my 12-year-old self's proficiency).

Cut to academic Vinelle trying to read scientific papers, and turns out fluency isn't all it's cracked up to be because this sure is easier in Norwegian. Academic Vinelle also researches differences in how proficient 2nd language learners process language - it's different from how native speakers do it, always will be different, and I've had a few "... but I do that!" moments when reading about things proficient language learners do differently from native speakers.

Language fluency is a winding road, is what I'm saying, you don't so much learn until you're fluent so much as you learn enough to become a happy vagabond, meandering around with enough skill to get by and picking up new things when you least expect to.

(As a sidenote, my early reviews are plagued with me being frequently rude, being a clueless 12-year-old, which is a good reminder to not be too upset when readers are rude because they might be babies on the internet. God, do I want to apologize to so many of those authors on my review history page, and the worst is that baby Vinelle had no idea you shouldn't say "Normally I hate it when the characters are being weird and OOC (If that's what you can call Sweeney's state of mind right now) but this time it's really amusing!" to someone you're trying to be nice to. Christ.)

[ink-stains-and-constellations]

I usually write and post Undertale fanfiction on a different account, but I kept seeing those time-travel The Hobbit fics and I really liked the premise, so I wrote a small bit of one. I have no idea what else to do with it, soooooo here have the random fic I wrote at like 1 AM.

(Quick disclaimer, I'm not actually super well-versed in Middle-Earth lore. I've read and loved The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, but I haven't gotten around to reading The Silmarillion or anything yet. I probably got some stuff wrong in terms of lore, so sorry about that. This was written for fun and I'm not planning on making it into a longer fic, but I thought I'd share it because why not.)

Bilbo was dead.

He knew he was dead. He had died in the Undying Lands, finally succumbing to the age of his body, surrounded by Frodo and Gandalf and the elves as he drifted off into his very last adventure. He had lived a long life. A good life. One with regrets, of course, but also one with much joy and love.

Hobbit-lore had never said much about their afterlife - not like the lore of elves, dwarves, or even men - but Bilbo had always supposed it would be something like this, the comfort of home. For he had found himself back in his hobbit-hole, back in Bag-End, seated at his table with a lovely-looking tea spread out before him.

His aches, his weariness, were gone. His joints and back moved easily, without any pain to speak of. His eyesight was perfectly clear. Even his bald patches had vanished, his head and feet covered once again in thick bushes of curly hair.

"Why, I don't feel a day over fifty," he marvelled under his breath, grinning a little.

Leaving his food on the table, he explored his home, running his fingers along the backs of chairs and rifling through drawers. Most things were exactly as he remembered it - better, even for he had not seen his silver spoons for decades, yet there they were, sitting neatly with the rest of his cutlery. The only objects unaccounted for were the things from his adventure; Sting, the coat of mithril, the chests of gold and silver, and the ring (he caught himself a moment before thinking 'his ring'). But he had given Sting and the coat to Frodo anyway, the ring had been destroyed, and he didn't suppose he would need gold or silver in the afterlife, so he paid it no mind.

He had just sat back down to his tea when the doorbell rang. He was not expecting visitors, of course, as he had only just gotten to this hobbitish afterlife, but he was not nearly as fussy about that sort of thing as he had once been, so he got to his feet and went to greet his guest.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it hadn't been a dwarf, and it most certainly hadn't been a very familiar dwarf with a long beard and a dark green hood, worn and stained from travel, his bright eyes glittering from beneath its hem.

The dwarf hopped inside as soon as the door was open, hanging his hooded cloak on one of the pegs, then sweeping into a low bow. "Dwalin at your service!"

Bilbo was frozen, one hand still on the polished brass doorknob, staring at his old friend, who now looked decades younger and was wearing the same clothes he had been the first time they had met.

"Dwalin?" he asked. "What are you doing here?" Even if the dwarf was dead too, he surely wouldn't be here, wherever here was.

Dwalin frowned slightly. "I am here for the meeting, of course."

"Meeting?" he echoed, mystified.

"Yes, the meeting." Dwalin gave him an odd look, as if he should have already known. "And, er, whose service do I have the pleasure of being at?"

Bilbo blinked. "What?"

"Your name," Dwalin elaborated.

After a moment of mutually puzzled silence, Bilbo took a closer look at Dwalin. The clothes. The appearance. The expression, politely confused. Asking for his name.

I don't feel a day over fifty.

He swallowed. "I - Bilbo." Slowly, he bowed. "Mister Bilbo Baggins, at your service." He straightened, gesturing to the hall behind him. "I, uh - I just set out tea. Please, help yourself."

Dwalin nodded, bustling off down the hall. Bilbo did not follow him, but sat down on the ornamental chair by all the hooks and put his head in his hands. This... wasn't possible, was it? He couldn't be back then. He had died, for goodness' sake.

Before he could get very far with his thoughts, the bell rang again. He sprang up, nearly wrenching the door open to reveal an old, red-hooded dwarf, who immediately hopped inside.

"I see they have begun to arrive already," he noted as he hung his hood next to Dwalin's. He then bowed, giving Bilbo an entirely unnecessary introduction.

"Balin, at your service!"

"Bilbo Baggins at yours," Bilbo replied, bowing in return. "Dwalin is inside - please, go join him, I'll bring out more tea. Unless you would prefer a little beer?" he added, remembering his old friend's preferences.

Balin smiled. "Yes, and some seed-cake, if you have any."

"Yes, lots."

Balin set off down the hall to join his brother, and Bilbo went to the pantry to collect the beer and seed-cakes.

Well, that settles it, he thought, a tad grimly. I am back at the very beginning of it all. He wasn't entirely enthusiastic about the prospect, given that he knew what lay ahead, but he resolved to do his very best with this second chance. To make their journey better with his knowledge. Maybe he could even save...

He shook his head and quickly delivered Balin's food and drink, right before the bell rang a third time and he had to rush back to the door.

It was Fili and Kili this time, and Bilbo's heart started aching when he saw them, young and whole and alive, their yellow beards clean of blood and grime, their eyes sparkling and clear.

"Kili at your service!"

"And Fili!"

He took their hoods and bags, setting them carefully to the side, and bowed back, fighting the urge to pull them both into a hug. Somehow, he managed to speak past the lump in his throat. "Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family's."

"Dwalin and Balin here already, I see," said Kili cheerfully. "Let us join the throng!"

Bilbo nodded and stepped aside to let them pass. He very firmly set aside his grief, his questions, his racing thoughts, and fixed his mind on the task at hand - namely, preparing enough food, drink, and chairs to host a company of fifteen.

While the four dwarves settled in and got to talking, he hurriedly set out more places at the table, then started raiding his pantry, bringing out everything from the wine to the cheese wheels. Halfway through, the bell rang again, and he practically sprinted to the door - in fact, he got there fast enough that Gloin had only just come puffing up to the doorstep.

Introductions were short, and the five newcomers soon joined the others at the table while Bilbo went back to emptying his pantries before they could do it themselves.

He had almost finished when a loud rapping echoed down the hall, the knock of wood against wood. Bilbo sighed heavily, thinking mournfully of the dent in his nice green door that he had never quite gotten around to fixing, and, whisking one last plate of food onto the table, set off to let his guests inside for the fifth and final time that night.

He made sure to open the door very slowly and carefully, so as not to repeat his mistake from all those years ago and end up with a pile of dwarves on his doormat. This time, all four of them hopped inside without incident, and Gandalf ducked through the doorway a moment later.

"Hello, Bilbo," he greeted with a smile. "I hope you do not mind terribly that I brought guests to our tea."

Bilbo sighed again, casting a glance in the direction of his depleted pantries. "Not at all, Gandalf."

"Excellent!" The wizard clapped his hands. "Now, allow me to introduce you to Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and especially Thorin!"

There were the usual bows and "At your service"s from Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, and none at all from Thorin, not that Bilbo had expected any. He gave all four of them a deep bow in return.

"Bilbo Baggins." He glanced up, meeting Thorin's proud gaze and ignoring the pang of grief, an old, old pain that had never really gone away. "At your service."

Thorin merely turned to toss his sky-blue, silver-tasselled hood onto a hook beside the others.

"Now we are all here!" declared Gandalf, hanging his hat at the end of the row of hoods. "Quite a merry gathering. I hope there is something left for the latecomers to eat and drink!"

"Yes, there's plenty," replied Bilbo, gesturing for the group to follow him down the hall.

Gandalf fell into step beside him, peering curiously down at him. He opened his mouth to ask something, but Bilbo quickly interrupted.

"Be careful of the -"

Thunk.

"Rafters," Bilbo finished with yet another sigh, watching Gandalf rub his head.

"A little low, these ceilings," the wizard commented, grimacing.

"Or maybe you're just a little tall!" called a grinning Fili from the dining room. "We seem to be managing just fine."

"Impertinent dwarf," Gandalf grumbled, hunched over to keep from hitting his head again.

Bilbo darted ahead to pull out a chair for Thorin, the grandest chair he could find in his little hobbit-hole. Thorin paused for a moment, then slowly sank into it, nodding his thanks. Bilbo gave him a quick smile and took his own place at the table, which he had made sure to include this time, as he didn't want to miss out on all the food again.

He wasn't much for conversation, as he didn't want to slip up and reveal all the things he knew, but he didn't bother asking if they would stay for supper after the meal was finished. Already knowing the answer, he just made to collect the plates, and didn't protest when the dwarves sprang up to clear them away instead.

The dishes were soon cleaned and put away, and the dwarves came back to find Bilbo watching Thorin and Gandalf blow smoke-rings around the room.

"Now for some music!" Thorin declared as his company filed into the room, snuffing out his pipe and setting it aside. "Bring out the instruments!"

There was a rush for instruments just as Bilbo remembered, and he sat back in his chair to listen to the dwarves' music. It was enthralling as it had been the first time, and he felt as though he was indeed fifty all over again and feeling a great desire for adventure. He found himself humming quietly along to the familiar tune.

It eventually stopped, of course, once dark had fallen, and Thorin stood to begin his speech.

"Gandalf, dwarves, and Mister Baggins! We are met together in the house of our friend and fellow conspirator, this most excellent and audacious hobbit - may the hair on his toes never fall out! All praise to his wine and ale!"

The ache in Bilbo's heart increased upon hearing his friend's typically long-winded beginning, and he barely managed to reply, "You are very kind." His voice came out with a funny choked quality to it, as if he was about to cry. Which was, of course, absurd, he thought as he blinked furiously against his burning eyes.

Thorin stopped, staring at Bilbo, his brow furrowed. "Is something the matter, Mister Baggins?"

Bilbo quickly shook his head, scrubbing away the tears that were leaking down his cheeks. "Nothing at all, Thorin," he whispered, unable to help the familiarity that slipped out with his friend's first name. "And, uh -" He cleared his throat, speaking a little louder. "Please, call me Bilbo, all of you. It seems appropriate if we're to - uh, work together."

Slowly, Thorin nodded, although he did not continue with his speech. He just... stared at Bilbo, a puzzled divot between his heavy brows, until Bilbo shifted uncomfortably, worried that he had made a mistake.

"Tell me, Mister Baggi - Bilbo," said Thorin suddenly. "Do you have much experience in the matter of burglary?"

Bilbo felt his lips twist into a humourless smile as images flashed in his mind. A golden cup. A large gemstone that could be called white, if you ascribed the same colour to the stars themselves. Before that, a set of keys, countless morsels of food, even the very dwarves who now sat in his dining room. All done while invisible, of course, but perhaps this time he could be a burglar before he found the ring as well as afterwards. (He was a little reluctant to take possession of the ring again now that he knew what it was, but he also knew that it had been an invaluable asset on their journey, and besides if he hadn't found it, it wouldn't have been destroyed, so he resolved to pick it up again as he had before.)

"Yes. Quite a bit, in fact."

A murmur of surprise went around the room. Even Gandalf's bushy eyebrows raised, although he stayed silent, still puffing on his pipe.

"How about travel?" Thorin asked, evidently set on grilling him now. "Fighting? Sword or axe, what's your weapon of choice?"

Bilbo sighed yet again. "I'm rather skilled at darts, if you must know, and I quite enjoy a good hike now and then," he answered, voice dripping with sarcasm that he never would have dared back at the beginning, but he was rather used to being treated with the indulgence afforded to eccentric elderly folk, so he didn't think much of it at all until Thorin snorted and he realised that the dwarf had taken his words seriously.

Another outbreak of muttering spread throughout the room, and amidst all the questions about his sincerity, he caught the fated words, murmured by Gloin to Oin.

"He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

Bilbo's teeth gritted, and he addressed Thorin again, discarding the sarcasm this time. "In all seriousness, I favour a sword, although seeing how I am not currently in possession of one, the question seems moot."

Thorin looked him up and down, as if trying and failing to imagine him using a sword. "I see."

Electing to ignore the dwarves' doubt, Bilbo stood, heading towards the hallway. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I am going to -" His toes snagged on something, perhaps a hole in the carpet, and he stumbled, a hand darting out to steady himself upon Gandalf, who happened to be the nearest solid object.

"Oh, terribly sorry, Gandalf," apologised Bilbo, looking quite a bit less flustered than one might expect. "As I was saying, I am going to fetch a light. I will return in a moment."

"Excellent idea," replied Gandalf, peering down at Bilbo. The dwarves may not have found his stumble suspicious, but the wizard was well aware of the surefootedness of hobbits and suspected Bilbo to be up to something, which, of course, he was.

At fifty, Bilbo Baggins had been polite to a fault and wholly inexperienced in theft. However, having lived over a hundred and thirty years before his death, he now considered himself a fairly seasoned burglar and quite disliked being doubted or mocked. So when he saw the opportunity to prove himself, he took it, and by the time he returned with a lamp, Gandalf was rifling through his pockets in search of a map he was certain he had had on his person.

Bilbo placed the lamp on the table and tilted his head curiously at the wizard, struggling to conceal a grin. "Is there something wrong, Gandalf?"

Gandalf's shrewd eyes snapped to him, and he gazed intently for a moment or two before explaining, "I seem to have lost a rather important map. You wouldn't happen to have any idea of its whereabouts, would you?"

"Not the foggiest clue," Bilbo replied, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Oh - wait, what is this?" With a - perhaps unnecessary - theatrical flourish, he withdrew the map from his waistcoat, holding it up. "Well, it appears it's right here in my pocket. How odd." He dropped it onto the table in front of Gandalf, his grin breaking through his attempted poker face.

Gandalf stared at the map for a few seconds, then chuckled loudly and suddenly, patting Bilbo on the back. "Very impressive, my friend."

Bilbo laughed and went to sit back down, not noticing the suspicious look Gandalf shot him behind his back.

"Now, then," the wizard began, spreading the map out on the table. "This was made by Thror, your grandfather, Thorin. It is a plan of the Mountain."

Thorin glanced at it, then shook his head, disappointed. "I don't see how this will help us much. I remember the Mountain well enough, and the lands about it. And I know where Mirkwood is, and the Withered Heath where the great dragons bred."

"There is a dragon marked in red on the Mountain," put in Balin. "But it will be easy enough to find him without that, if ever we arrive there."

"Unfortunately so," Bilbo murmured to himself, his shoulders curling a little inwards.

"There is one thing you haven't noticed, and that is the secret entrance," pointed out Gandalf. "You see that rune on the west side, and the hand pointing to it from the other runes? That marks a hidden passage to the Lower Halls."

"It may have been secret once," Thorin countered, "but how do we know it remains so? Old Smaug has lived there long enough now to find out anything there is to know about those caves."

"He may, but he can't have ever used it. It is far too small for him - 'five feet high the door and three may walk abreast' say the runes, and Smaug couldn't have crept into a hole that size even when he was a young dragon, let alone now, after devouring so many of the dwarves and the men of Dale. In any case, the door should be closed and hidden, made to look exactly like the side of the mountain, and therefore kept secret from the rest of the world, if not from Smaug."

Bilbo leant closer to get a proper look at the map, which he had not seen for decades. The Mountain drawn in dark ink on the paper seemed a lot smaller than the Mountain of his memories.

"Also," Gandalf went on, "I forgot to mention that with the map came a key, a small and curious key. Here it is!" He presented it to Thorin, a key with a long barrel and intricate wards, flashing silver in the lamplight. "Keep it safe!"

"Indeed I will," replied Thorin, taking the key and fastening it upon the fine gold chain that hung around his neck. "Now things begin to look more hopeful. This news alters them much for the better. So far we have had no clear idea of what to do. We thought of going east, as quiet and careful as we could, as far as the Long Lake -"

Bilbo had heard Thorin's ramblings before, of course, and if this was an ordinary meeting with friends, he would have tuned him out. However, he was acutely aware of just how precious his time here was - every second with Thorin and Fili and Kili alive, every second with the others smiling and in good cheer, every second unburdened by deep, heavy grief - so he listened quietly to the voice he'd spent so many years missing.

"- but we none of us liked the idea of the Front Gate. The river runs right out of it through the great cliff at the south of the Mountain, and out of it comes the dragon too - far too often, unless he has changed his habits."

"That would be no good," added Gandalf. "Not without a mighty warrior, even a hero. I tried to find one, but warriors are busy fighting one another in distant lands, and in this neighbourhood, heroes are scarce, or simply not to be found. Swords in these parts are mostly blunt, axes are used for trees, and shields as cradles or dish-covers; dragons are comfortably far-off, and therefore legendary. That is why I settled on burglary - especially when I remembered the existence of a side-door. And here is our little Bilbo Baggins, the burglar, the chosen and selected burglar. So now let's get on and make some plans."

"Very well, then," agreed Thorin. "Supposing the burglar gives us some ideas or suggestions." He turned to Bilbo with mock politeness, although it was a bit less mocking than it had been the first time around.

Bilbo drew himself up, meeting Thorin's gaze with a determined look. He was the only one there who knew what was in store, and over the course of the night, he had come to the decision that he meant to bring them all through the journey and out the other side alive and more or less intact, if at all possible. "Certainly, Thorin," he answered briskly. "I should think that we ought to focus on actually getting there and finding the side-door before we worry about dealing with much else. I take it there is quite a lot of treasure?" he added, although he already knew.

Thorin nodded. "Yes, halls upon halls of it."

"It will be impossible for me to move it all by myself. I will be able to perhaps steal one or two pieces before the dragon notices us, so I would suggest you give some thought as to which pieces you should like." A large white gem glimmered in his mind again before he pushed the image away and forged on, ignoring the echoes of dread. "I would also suggest -" His voice trembled, and he cleared his throat, trying to keep his words steady. "I would also suggest that we take a moment to consider the possibility of things such as dragon-sickness, and how it may be overcome once the Mountain is in our possession."

"Sage advice," said Gandalf approvingly, filing away his suspicion to deal with later and patting Bilbo on the shoulder.

Bilbo threw him a quick smile, though he was unable to hide the hint of tiredness to it. He found that he didn't particularly want to speak of their journey anymore, not with the knowledge of what was to come weighing on him, heavy as a sack of dragon-guarded gold.

"And, well, don't you know, I think we have talked long enough for one night, if you see what I mean. What about bed, and an early start, and all that? I would appreciate some help with breakfast tomorrow, if anyone would be so kind."

"You're the host, are you not?" replied Thorin, raising a dark, heavy brow. "But I agree about bed and breakfast. I like six eggs with my ham when starting on a journey - fried, not poached, and mind you don't break 'em."

Bilbo crossed his arms, staring at the dwarf expectantly, until Thorin reluctantly added, "Please."

Bilbo nodded and grabbed a small notebook that had been laying on the mantlepiece, quickly jotting down Thorin's preferred breakfast. "Anyone else?"

The dwarves and Gandalf all ordered their breakfasts, and Bilbo managed to get a 'please' from every one of them. Afterwards, he had to find places for all of them to sleep, which was thankfully a much shorter affair than last time, as he had his previous experiences to go by. He did have to dig extra blankets out of the linen cupboard, and set several dwarves and Gandalf (who was much too tall for his spare beds) up on couches and chairs, but he eventually got them all stowed away and retired to his own little bed. The shock of finding himself back in the past, along with having to host thirteen dwarves and a wizard, had left him rather exhausted, despite the renewed strength of his younger body. Before he collapsed into bed, he remembered to leave a sliver of his curtains unclosed, so that he would be awoken by the rays of dawn.

He fell asleep to the sound of Thorin's humming from the bedroom next to his, and this time, it was comforting.

The Hobbit was created by J.R.R. Tolkien.

[reading-stains]

soukoku fics: recs and reviews

look, i really like fanfiction. and i've always felt people sometimes don't give good enough reasons to actually read a lot of it. if you scroll down enough, you'll see i did that too. so i thought i'd help out some people that don't know what to read tonight. you'll notice i took my reviewing seriously hgdsafvkhagsv i'll add more in my reblogs as i go on with this review style, but for now, here are three fanfics that pushed me to do this. fair warning, they're long ones.

A Lesson in Thorns by arkastadt

Word Count: 454,556

Tags: Arranged Marriage, BSD Beast!AU, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Character Death, Heavy Angst, Happy Ending, Ghosts, So Much Smut

Review:

As one of the longest fics I’ve ever read, it took me three days to read it, and a lot of lost sleep. A Lesson in Thorns is a journey that no one is truly prepared for. It’s surprising, I think, how one only notices the slow burn in the beginning, and forget they didn’t start out together in the end. So many things happen in the span of those fifty chapters, and so many feelings arise alongside their events. The reader watches Chuuya grow into himself, despite the haunting (hehe) that surrounds him by the end. Dazai becomes a man wishing to live, despite becoming a ghost of who he used to be. It’s quite magical, the way the story builds upon itself. What is usually some home, this piece makes an empire. 

This author appealed a lot to the wants and needs within these characters, making a paced build up to the challenges the characters face. Furthermore, there is a wonderful line of thought that is unwavering, consistent to the very end. The reader meets Chuuya getting ready to be married. A deal has been struck with the Port Mafia, and as the leader of the Sheep, Chuuya must marry their boss. A questionable and confusing task, but Chuuya has no more cards under his sleeve, and he has to save Shirase from the pending prison sentence. He walks into where he is to be married, looking to find a wrinkled, aging man. Instead, he faces the bandaged limbs and cunning eye of Dazai Osamu, and the story truly begins. 

The reader already knows it’s not a choice left for random that Dazai takes Chuuya under his wing. It’s already stated that on the first day in his position as the boss, right after killing Mori and sixteen months before he and Chuuya marry, he finds the redhead. A search that is broken down as the story unravels, and an effort that builds them and breaks them apart and puts them back together. 

This fanfic is clearly derived from a lot of the factors pointed in Bungou Stray Dogs’s BEAST light novel, which in my eyes makes it all the more interesting. I tried to give a short insight into the beginning with as much care as I could without creating any spoilers for the reading. I guess from me, all my notes just say it’s worth it. This fic really drags you through so many stages of feelings and excitements, and it builds off from them until you reach a new peak all over again. 

On Deathless Feet by AbsoluteNegation

Word Count: 71,848

Tags: Caretaking, Controlling Arahabaki, Canon-Divergence, Port Mafia and Post-Port Mafia, Smut

Review:

There are some stories that find themselves tucked into a hidden corner. It does not make them any less, and it does not make them any better, it just makes them quiet. Which in turn, when they are finally found, makes them all the more surprising. That is how I feel about On Deathless Feet, tucked in a corner of Ao3, and all incredibly surprising. 

Written with a nonlinear narrative, the reader meets the famed Double Black in different moments, recently met, in the middle of their rise through the ranks, at the brink of their end, after their disconnection with years of silence. AbsoluteNegation makes a wonderful story threaded in different moments, contextualizing their uncomfortable return to each other with interruptions back to their old lives before Dazai’s split from the Port Mafia. The author mainly focuses on Arahabaki, and Chuuya’s relationship with understanding the singularity as it slips out of control. Dazai is sent in to help counter it throughout their time together, and long stretches of contact are needed to get it down to normal. 

With a state of constant carataking, the two are thrusted into communion, needing to learn to accept living with each other for the time being. It isn’t a foreign feeling, seeing the other there, but at the end of the day it’s hard for the two with all that past. A past the author explores in detail just as much, not holding back on making it layered and pretty and very intense. They are creatures of passion, that’s what drives this ship and makes it so loved, and the author doesn’t shy away from building on it. Just as well, however, does the author place their own touch to their relationship, with the care and devotion the two also experiment between them. This fanfic is a welcomed balance to the rockier roads often explored surrounding these two. It never lacks sharpness, but it definitely warms the heart.

music for our funeral by itotypes

Word Count: 67,723

Tags: No Smut, Angst, 70s, Musicians!AU, Drug Abuse, References to Child Neglect, Songwriting, Artistic Lyricism

Review:

Music for our funeral by itotypes is a breathtaking composition, and there is not much like it. Set in the 70s, the author explores the surrounding setting of the rock genre, and writes a story of struggle and connection. Starting out with a run-away teenager, we meet Dazai’s lackluster perfection, the narrative often picturing him as a clinical artist. After leaving home, we watch him make himself something, and see him survive until he looks to live. Meanwhile, the other side of the piece plays with a striving perfectionist, and a reckless guitarist, in the form of Chuuya. The man comes from a struggling family (a stark contrast to the origins of his partner), and finds himself lost in the music. 

An interesting part of the story is that we get to know the characters before they meet. In a way, it allows the reader to explore the lives privy to the explosion, and before the pining and intensity that sparks between the two. One of the most appreciative factors that make this story one of my personal favorites is the usage of images throughout it. With beautiful lyrics exploring the essence of a character’s beliefs without them needing to admit it to themselves, there is a clear view into the conflicts and selfish needs that each character has. 

This author’s work is best described as an ode to music. It comes as a surprise at times, the way words fit together in reverence to this branch of artistry. Yet the fact that it’s done through another form of storytelling, through the use of words on a screen instead of notes on one’s ear, makes it all the more captivating. There is no question this is a must read. 

[murasaki-cha]

I've recently gotten into web comics but I don't like most of the male characters in romance comics, they do some really creepy things that seem to just get swept under the rug. Do you have any recommendations for some good romance comics?

*cracks neck* I've trained for this day for years

This is going to be a combination of manhwa, manhua, webtoons and probably some manga too, of all kinds of genres, most are my favorites and I'll explain why so pick whatever catches your interest.

Post is going to be super long so:

I Stan The Prince -> starting of with a strong one, the fl writes a fanfiction about the notorious ex crown prince and raises his popularity. Now she has to work with him and write another book all while dealing with political drama and dark royal secrets. This manhwa rescently just came back from an incredibly long hiatus, it has no novel it's an original manhwa and the main couple are literally the cutest most in love mutual pining idiots ever they're married they just don't know it yet

Hidden Love -> Warning this has a 7 age gap! The story starts when the fl is 13 and meets her brothers dormmate and falls in love with him but keeps it a secret and they lose contact. Years later when she's in college she reunites with the brother's friend and old feelings start to resurface and he slowly falls for her now that she is an adult. I am going to repeat this only once, no grooming, no weird underage romance, ml never liked her like that when she was a child her romance was one sided back then, both are consenting adults now. The fl helps ml with his struggling past and makes him realize he is worthy of love. The fl is strong and confident and she's the one saving the ml multiple times. The ml is literally such a green flag even if he's a big flirt when "courting" her. It's an incredibly touching story and it even has a drama

Eternal Love/First Froat -> set in the same universe as the story above, this is about the love story of the prev fl brother and the mc, his high school classmate. Both had a crush on each other back then but the fl pushed him away coldly and they seperated. Years later they met by chance and by chance yet again ended up as roommates. Slowly they realize the feelings never went away and they keep getting drawn to each other but the horribly tragic past of the fl and the reason she pushed the ml away slowly uncoveres too. This is a beautiful story of a love that never stopped. The mcs are literally meant to be and the fl is so strong after everything she's been through. And the ml is the most patient, caring mam ever everyone deserves a man like him. Literally the standard. Both these books can be read as stand alones but there are some hilarious moments that can only be completely understood if you read them both

Savinvg My Sweetheart -> You will cry so hard while reading this. Fl is the saintess' daughter and after the death of her husband who she was politically married to, she goes back in time a few months before their marriage and only has one goal, to save her kind husbad from her mother even if it causes her death. Both the fl and ml love each other so incredibly much but both think the other hates them because of the forced marriage yet that misunderstanding doesn't stop them from being the literal greatest cople ever! The are such a healthy couple and both are incredibly fleshed out and not just making romance their entire point of existance. Fl slowly gathers powers in order to stop her biological mother who is evil incarnate and save everyone. Ml works together with fl and on his own in order to strengthen his kingdom. And the link that connects them will literally have you crying for the next 20 years. The story is more of a found family/romance and it's one of the most well written stories ever, you will almost never find one loophone everything is planned to the T

Caught By The Villain -> the ml might start bad here but I'm telling you his character development is simply 👌 ✨️. Fl gets transported into the world of this novel she read as the twin sister of a minor villain. Later she has to join knighthood disgusted as her brother and somehow gets chosen as the personal guard of the crown prince, aka main villain, but also with the og!ml which is somewhat different from the story. Ok I'm going to start by saying the title is literally the greatest clickbait ever because almost everyone but the villain catch her and discovered she's a girl. The story has great representation and discusses about a lot of topics like gender and sexuality which you almost never find talked in manhwas. The ml starts bad but slowly by spending time with fl he realizes his mistakes, sincerely apologises tho does not expect forgiveness, promises to change and does keep his word, genuenly loves and cherishes her and is an all round little meow meow and I love him. He's a bi disaster too. Fl is strong and under lots of stress. She slowly gets closer with ml and realizes he's not just the big bad evil villain from the novel and the closer they get and the more genuine their friendship becomes, the more she feels guilty for hiding her true identity from ml. And the og!ml is a special case that I don't even wanna touch with a 10 foot pole so theres that. The development all these characters go through is slow and so perfectly written you don't even realize how much they changed until you go back and realise they're not the same as the beginong

Even If You Split My Mouth -> manga with japanese urban legends which means it has some gore and body horror. The story follows a Kuchisake-Onna and her contract fiancé, a 17 yo boy who has the power to strengthen her legend with his words so she won't disappear. She doesn't want this engagement while he is in love with her so they form a pact, if she can scare him within a year the engagement is off, if not than they get married. This is one of those stories that start all silly goofy but end up having some of the deepest lore ever. The fl is super cute for a yokai and she blushes a lot every time ml flirts. Ml is completly unphased by her scare attempts and loves her to bits. They're such a dumb cute couple and their love story is so fun and sad sometimes. All the side characters are entertaining and lovable. Really there's not one bad thing I can say about this manga, it deserves more love

You Are My Desire -> high school sweethearts and later uni sweethearts. Fl moves to a new city and school after her parents messy divorce and her father's remarriage. While looking around she stumbles upon a tatoo shop and amazingly embarrasses herself in front of the tattooist. On the first day of school she happens to end up as deskmates with that same tattooist who's coincidentally the school tyrant but slowly it becomes visible this tyrant doesn't act like a tyrant at all and so a weird relationship is born out of the two of them. The two mcs are one of the best couples I've ever read. They slowly heal heach others wounds and teach each other that they love them even with their scars. I don't wanna say a lot since the manhua only has aroumd 20 chapters and there's so much story from the novel that hasn't been told yet. There's slso a drama that was rescently released

Daytime Star -> modern manhwa. An actress who has been cast as nothing but an extra for almost 10 years lands a small role where she gets to play along one of the best male actors in the industry. After that they both can't stop thinking about each other and that's how their love story begins. One of the healthiest modern manhwa couples ever! They're literally so cute they will call you single in all languages pf the world and more. I also loved that the fl slowly rose to fame almost all on her own using her own strength and talent with very few minor moments where others helped. It's a great story and it talks about the struggles of working on the korean entertainment industry too

Villains Are Destined to Die -> oh where do I begin with this masterpiece! Fl gets transmigrated into a dating sim she was playing as the villaines and she's currently in the hard mode which makes it super dificult for her to clear the game. She has to increase the affection percentage of the capture targets so she can go back to her old life and avoid the bad ending which always results in her death. This is literally one of those stories that gets you hooked on the very first chapters alone. Fl goes through so much and she's such a tragic character. All she wants is a peaceful life and she works damn hard for it. Her family is just exhausting but they slowly develop besides SOME who shall not be named. The ml, which you'll probably figure out who it is lile halfway through because he's just that iconic, is literally THE BEST, THE STANDARD! I love him so much and it might not show it in the begining chapters but he's is just perfect. The romance is more secondary tho and the story focuses more on the fl's struggles to survive and the discovery of the secrets that can change the fate of the entire kingdom.

See You In My 19th Life -> this rescently got a drama and I recommend watching that too. Fl is a reincarnator who remembers all her lives besides the first one. In her 19th life she resolves to find a boy form her 18th life who made her enjoy life again after so many reincarnations and made her wish she was reincarnated once again. She manages to get a job in the hotel he manages and immediately asks him to date. Thus begins the story of her following and flirting with her love from the prevous life without him knowing it's her and slowly healing his scars and traumas while also solving the mystery of her reincarnation. The story us full of mystery and absurdly cute couples. The ml is traumatized by fl's death since she died quite literally right in front of his eyes when he was really young and he also has a crap ton of family drama to deal with. The fl loves the him so much and tries her best to help him not just physically but emotionally too. She's like a breath of fresh air for the ml and their love is just so selfless. He loves her even when he doesn't know she's his first love reincarnated. The side couple is literally amazinv too and I would need an entire paragraph to talk about them too. The mystery of the webtoon always keeps you on the edge. Overall amazing webtoon and has an amazing kdrama!

(I'm getting tired and I have to wake up early tomorrow so I'm just gonna drop some titles with no explenation now. There might be some shounen ai in there fyi)

A Stepmother's Marchen

How To Win My Husband Over

Death To Lady White Ferret

Positively Yours

Business Propsal (Also has a great kdrama)

Sasaki to Miyano

A Good Day To Be A Dog (kdrama rescently started)

Till Debt Do Us Apart

Shoujinkou Nikki

Hirano to Kagiura

Given

The Reason Why Raekiana Ended Up At The Duke's Mansion (also has an anime)

Once More

Love Like Cherry Blossoms

Tsuiraku JK to Haijin Kyoushi (it's a student x teacher but honestly it's more of a dark comedy manga and it's hilarious so I recommend it)

I Raised Cinderella Preciously

The Perks of Being A Villainess

Ajatsuki no Yona

My Secretly Hot Husband

Ok that's all I can squeeze out of my brain for now. Hope you enjoyed the recs