#I crawled out of my depression hole to make this

[syinthome-kaleidoscope]

(Homestuck AU... Heavenstuck?)

Xie Lian as a punky fish alien/narrative embodiment.

-ramblenotes and text transcripts under the cut-

for the non-homestucks among us, this version of Xie Lian is a troll, a species from the universe preceding the human one, they have a blood-color based caste system with fuchsia at the top and rust at the bottom- it sucks. they are raised by creatures called lusus (plural is lusii) instead of parents, because parents are a human concept and trolls are different in terms of biology anyway.

with that (probably insufficient) explanation out of the way:

Xie Lian as a hemoanonymous fuchsia - kinda obvious? royalty in hiding.

Uses Callie's silvery color :)

the Signless follower/fan thing - He Would. (really it's less a 'follower' thing and more of a kind of philosophy thing? but also not really? ...its complicated.)

Xie Lian definitely has some version of 'can't keep down the clown' immortality. but like, jester style.

Fangxin is a stupidly overpowered demon sword that can cause an apocalypse. what else is new.

continuing from that last point, it was specifically made from the White King Scepter and the Black Queen Ring, in the 'Beforus' session. BWX got it as an 'inheritance' from his prescratch self, then 'passed it on' to XL during this AU's equivalent of book 4.

In this AU I think that the 'surface levels' of Alternia and Beforus are switched, with A!Trollworld being more glorified and appearing as a 'good' society, and B!Trollworld being more blatant about its shittiness.

The symbol is a heavily abstracted representation of the celestial alignment called the Ominous Star.

This AU's reason for the neck bandages is that his gills are permanently damaged (until godtier). Kinda equivalent to the cursed shackle, taking away his status as a seadweller?

Ruoye was unintentionally majyyked into existence sorta like in canon (100 swords, dragonmom's death, hanging), 'xept I havent figured out the exact logistics of that yet.

The Sprite^2 Ring Situation is complicated and involves some ill-advised prototyping from the human (ghost) session Jade-style and the cross-session transportayeeting of HC's dreamself's corpse. I'll get into that when I do his side of things.

I have Muse of Space as XL's classpect because my personal interpretation of the Muse class is 'one who enables/embodies/reveals/inspires and/or is enabled/embodied/revealed/inspired by their aspect' as the variation on 'command' - with the narrative side of Space being stage/setting/creation, as well as the whole isolation and sacrifice thing.

( note: I had a whole rant here about how, in contrast, the Lord class is 'one who forces/drives/declares/instructs and/or is forced/driven/declared/instructed by their aspect' as counterpart forms of the 'command' verb but that got eaten by the drafts T-T )

Xie Lian IS the narrative of TGCF. It wouldn't happen without him - his presence was necessary/implied before his character was even conceptualized - he is what enables, what //allows// the story to occur - his movement through the world is what reveals all of the things lurking beneath the surface - he inspires a significant portion of the stories events, as well as inspiring change within many of the characters -

More than any of that, Xie Lian embodies TGCF- in the same way that Callie represents fandom within the text of Homestuck, which is at its core a story about stories, Xie Lian represents the philosophical and mythological core of TGCF.

All this started because I noticed that Hua Cheng is basically an even gayer, paletteswapped version of Vriska.

TEXT TRANSCRIPTS:

top, to the left of landscape/dragon skeleton, gray: Lusus Dragonmom (He lives in her skeleton)

top left, red/green/teal 3D effect: SWEET CATCH!

middle-ish, to the upper right of talksprite-style portrait, gray: Veiled hat usually hides earfins

middle right, between god-tier and sword, gray: Muse of Space

lower middle, above symbol and ring, gray: Ominous Star (fire star + heart)

lower middle right, to the right of ring, gray: Ashes Ring = Sprite^2 Pendant

bottom left, to the right of talksprite-style portrait, fuchsia: Abdicated Heir

bottom left, to the right of talksprite-style portrait, layered gray over red: Signless follower/fan

bottom right, below sword, gray & underlined: Fangxin

under the last line, gray: Regisword && King Scepter && Queen Ring Via Denizen

[spacedace]

I've blocked the same dude like three times now and for some reason I'm still seeing whenever they reblog one of my posts or whenever they add something to a post I'm subscribed too, what the hell tumblr 😩

[mr-aftons-rotting-pussy]

like obv im not a fan of Strictly Businessman William that the fandom loves for some fucking reason *coughs in a particular direction* but its like you could still do smth fun with this generao concept i feel and yet yall still dont.............. hear me out✋️ heres how the afton!businessheads and the afton!theaterboyheads can still win ,,,,

[love-killed-the-superstar]

only thing i need to watch for the rest of my life is that one clip of stevonnie skating and experiencing true joy knowing that it's the closest steven got to true happiness before the inevitable menty b

[dandoris]

killing myselves are now

[xenteaart]

you are not difficult

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but it can fit any au, really) word count: no idea but it's short genre/warnings: er, angst, hurt/comfort, implied suffering w depression, implied history of SH. also implied shitty ex. so PLS keep that in mind before you read. also, it's all good in the end. author's note: it's a self comfort thing y'all but i hope you like it too.

it was yet another night where everything felt too much and you kinda hated yourself for it. bad day, maybe some hormonal imbalance due to a certain time in your cycle, history of mental illness — it's hard to put a finger on the exact cause. you're sick of trying, anyways.

chris was, of course, right there for you, and as you were falling apart in his arms, your entire soul was aching so bad that it made you want to crawl out of your own skin. it's usually like that, everywhere in your body like some sort of extreme inflammation, except physically you're perfectly fine.

"'m sorry…" you blurt out somewhere between your sobs and cries, still unable to hold eye contact with him.

"baby, you have nothing to be sorry for," chan shakes his head and keeps rubbing circles into your back, just between the shoulder blades where the ache feels the most excruciating.

"kiss me?" you squeak. almost pathetic, honestly, but it's always been your way of checking, whether he still wants you. whether he still loves you and desires you, even at your lowest, even with your mascara all smudged over your cheeks, eyes puffy and red, lips slightly irritated and swollen. even when there's a gaping black hole where the heart is supposed to be.

chris doesn't even question it, really. he simply leans in and gives you a long sweet kiss full of both a partner's tenderness and a lover's lust, so, so willing to do whatever it takes to calm the thunderstorm inside your mind and ease your struggle.

the kiss doesn't really satisfy you, the feeling is still there.

"sorry," you whisper again as you breathe out into chan's lips but the intimate contact doesn't last long. chris frowns and makes some distance between you two to look into your eyes.

"why? baby, why do you keep apologizing?" he sounds gentle but still slightly frustrated.

"i dunno? cos 'm difficult? for bein' difficult?"

there's a silence as he blinks a few times, processing and putting two and two together.

"just because it was difficult for them to love you and take care of you, doesn’t make you difficult. you are not difficult. like, at all," he puts on his serious tone, the one he uses for you when you can't see the obvious and he has to remind you.

you don't really know what to say to that, so you keep playing with the tissue paper in your hands, ripping it apart piece by piece just to keep yourself busy and focused on something other than the burning ache in your chest.

"dealing with mental health isn't easy, that one is true, baby, but it's so easy to love you. you are easy to love. even now, looking so small and in pain but it's still you, and my duty as your boyfriend is to take care of you when you can't. and, hell, you're one of the most capable people i know, so please just let me hold your hand through it once in a while, yeah?" chan speaks slowly and quietly, as if to make every single word sink in, tenderly forcing it into your stupid lovely brain that refuses to cooperate sometimes.

chris feels safe. he feels like lighting up a cookie scented candle after a long day at work. he's the feeling of the ocean timidly licking at your feet and burying them deeper into warm wet sand. chris is the first sip of coffee in the morning and the cold side of the pillow at night. he's everything worth living and trying for.

"thank you," is the only thing you manage to say, but in the way you lean back into his embrace he's able to read a lot more.

"do you want a nice mug o' hot chocolate and some fairy bread, baby?"

this question makes you hiccup and sob once again. you nod and nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck.

[unintentionalseductress]

Can I be the Snoflake emoji? :D Requesting a 15...of Zayne AND Dawnbreaker Zayne somehow?

Hello! Yes you can be my snowflake anon! I'll update the emoji list. Now, I almost said no to this because I have a Dawnbreaker and Zayne threesome fic I'm working on with a very similar concept but I can't help myself, I'd religiously be taking cock everyday from these 2 if I could.

So if there are some similarities spotted between this and my other fic, pardon. I just really like both of them.

DVP

--------

Sex had always been a two person act according to you. You'd never wanted anyone else, not with Zayne satisfying your every need so thoroughly, not to mention his possessive streak.

So what the fuck were you doing, allowing Zayne's doppleganger to pull off your shirt as he gently traces your smooth skin reverently. This alternate dimension with Zayne's future self was mindboggling. You can see the differences between him and Dawnbreaker as plain as day and night.

Zayne's eyes hold tenderness for you, his girlfriend of many years, while Dawnbreaker's look at you with longing, like a man finding an oasis after wandering the desert. And both of them wanted you equally. Zayne had been thrown off when you both saw him at first but after hearing his story, it appeared that his mind had softened for his alter ego.

"I love her too, and I never thought I'd have her in my life," Dawnbreaker had whispered, gazing at you with those haunted eyes that made your heart ache for him. And somehow, Zayne had yielded, perhaps because in his mind, he was giving you to himself. You doubted he would have gone through with this if it was someone else.

And now you're having your first threesome, except it was with the same man you'd been sleeping with, copied, and feeling the same way Zayne did. It was so arousing, having two of him, with none of the awkwardness of a threesome because you knew him and what to expect.

Still, your body shivers as both Dawnbreaker and Zayne take one of your nipples into their mouths, their lips and tongue feeling similar but flicking different patterns onto the heardened peaks. You whine against the dual stimulation. One Zayne left you satisfied and warm. Two was going to break you, you were certain, in the most delicious way possible.

They suckle and pull, two pairs of hands roaming over your skin, squeezing and stroking every inch of you. Dawnbreaker is under a spell, marveling at the softness of your skin and the taste of your breast as he leaves a mark on the swell of flesh before kissing his way down to your navel, dipping his hot tongue into the little depression, making your squirm with need. Zayne reassuringly pets your hair before pulls you back against his chest, and he grips your thighs, spreading them apart for Dawnbreaker.

A flush erupts over your skin as he completely exposes you to Dawnbreaker's attentive eyes which widen at the sight, seeing the glistening membranes, and the proud little pearl peaking out of your folds at the apex.

"Suck it, like you did her nipple." Zayne issues the advice softly and Dawnbreaker, feeling his mouth water at the sight, obliges, running his tongue between your folds, making you sigh before sealing his lips over your clit. Your body is sensitized and your arousal keeps mounting, the knowledge that these two men were so utterly consumed with you and eager to bring ecstasy into your veins.

You moan and your hips buck but your legs are firmly held apart by Zayne as he helps Dawnbreaker bring you to your peak. "Does it feel good?" He whispers teasingly in your ear and you nod breathlessly.

"It's just like you," you admit then bite your lip as Dawnbreaker slips his fingers into your fluttering hole. His fingers work up a tantalizing rhythm inside you and your eyes squeeze closed and you let out a broken mewl as you cum so satifyingly on his fingers. Dawbreaker crawls up to kiss you and you're sandwiched between the two men.

"I think you can take both of us," Zayne purrs seductively and you're shifted so that you're laying on top of Dawnbreaker. As primal instinct takes over, you raise your hips and start taking his cock into you, feeling a rush at the way Dawnbreaker's eyes go wide as your velvety wetness envelopes him, welcoming him into your heat. He seems unsure what to do but you shush him and start to ride, and his head falls back as he lets out a groan.

Zayne embraces you from behind, kissing the back of your neck and fondling your breasts before leaning you onto Dawnbreaker's chard chest. You gasp as you feel him enter you, gently pushing past the muscle and filling your channel alongside Dawnbreaker. The headiness of being so full, so stretched and used draws a shuddering cry from you. Their cocks move in tendem inside you, strokng your walls and pushing you to the brink, caressing your gspot and kissing your cervix with their tips.

Dawnbreaker grunts and Zayne empathizes with his counterpart; of course he didn't know how needy he would become after experiencing you and your delicious cunt. He's barely holding on, teeth gritted from the additional stimulation of having another cock rub against him. He cums first, releasing his load into you as his hands grip your sides. Zayne starts playing with your clit as he thursts and stars form behind your closed eyes as a second orgasm rips through you before Zayne allows himself to climax, his seex mixing with Dawnbreaker's and making a mess in your already sloppy cunt.

[brainlessbaguette]

Back on my Golden Goddess train of thought.

Will openly admit that I have never considered myself a good writer and have next to no experience with making comics, but there's a vision here. Like am I getting the vibes across?

I want two gods that were once in love with eachother but both were blind to it and neither were capable of loving like how the other wanted them to (Hylian&Nayru). I want one of them to finally move on and briefly find the love they wanted before dying(Hylia&TheFirstHero). I want the other to spend years in self inflicted isolation going through the stages of grief only to realize "you know my not-girlfriend was making some good points" and then crawl out of her depression hole to mentor her not-girlfriend's descendants.

I want a loosley barely canon adjacent multi level doomed romance where everyone sucks... except for the first Link and maybe Farore.

[ezzydantes]

The End of It All (Part 3)

Author's note: Triggers include death, gore, depression, and suicidal thoughts.

This is Ace, Shanks, and Mihawk's view of your death. G/N... although there may be some references to females as this was my original thought in mind.

Ace, Shanks, and Mihawk have to deal with your untimely death.

Refer to Family Was Always Imortant for follow up on Ace's story.

Ace

The battle of Marineford was bigger than you. You had fought so hard to help Luffy into the prison only to learn your lover and the father of your children had already been moved. The fight to get to him and your utter most strength with your knights and family to save him was fruitful, but the final battle had taken its toll.

Aikanu was upon you, Ace, and Luffy in a second. His power seemed overwhelming to the three of you but his main target was Luffy. Ace being the big brother stood in front of the two of you but you were quicker. Your body moved in a flash to be in front of both brothers as you took the hit while pushing Ace behind you which in turn knocked Luffy over. You stood stunned with a gaping hole in your gut.

You fell to your knees , gasping for breathe as your lover pulled you backwards into his chest. Luffy crawled to you.

"Sis... ", he whispered as he covered the gaping hole in your gut. Ace called for Marco who was there within seconds, but the doctor's grim face confirmed the worst.

"I can't help her, Ace", the doctor quietly stated as he stroked your hair while a tear fell from him.

"She said a tear from a phoenix had extraordinary healing powers...", the elder brother sobbed as he held your dying body close.

"Marco isn't a TRUE phoenix..." you huffed as breathing became harder for you, "He ate a devil fruit...."

"Stop talking ... save your strength. We'll figure something out... you can't just leave me like this... What about the kids?" Ace began sobbing as he kept caressing your face while rocking you back and forth with his body, trying to console the both of you.

"They're safe on the island with the princess... listen... I don't have much strength or time... " you whispered as you felt your life draining from you.

"You and Luffy will have to take care of the kids... or at least make sure they are safe for your return to them.... don't leave them alone the way we all were growing up... and you are a great dad. Never...ha...Never think less of yourself and don't you dare compare yourself to your father... Tell Pops... tell Pops I love him.... and I love you and Luffy.... sooo much...", you gasped for air as the blood continued to seep from your body, "I love you....I....love...you.... Tell the twins I love them too....."

Ace felt you go limp and his body became rigid. It was in that moment that Jimbei, a fishman warlord, came running towards the brothers as they began wailing at the loss of you. He pulled them both close to him as he began to run off.

"I can't leave her like this!" Ace shouted once he realized what was happening.

"Take them away... I have her...", Crocodile shouted as he kept the remaining marines from coming after them both.

Days later the brothers attended your funeral after Shanks had collected both you and Whitebeard's bodies. He was never the same after you had passed. He could not even attend the funeral that Shanks put on for you and his father figure.

He had returned to Windmill Village and sought out Dadan, the only parental figure he had left. He refused to deal with Garp afterwards and then Garp showed up to the island....and he wanted to die....

**************

Shanks

"It's going to be okay..." you whispered as Shanks held you close to him while your mutually adopted daughter Uta began to cry.

You and several other crews had fought the demon king, Tot Musica, to save your daughter's life. In the end it had taken a toll on your life force to help defeat the demon, but more importantly to save Uta.

"You do know, Shanks, she is a wanted woman... and her powers are too much for the World Government to not observe and contain, if not erase..." the admiral Kizaru stated as he and his men began to form a perimeter around the Red Haired pirates.

"This is a family matter... you will stay the Hell away from me and my family... my lover and child are none of your concern...", the emperor growled as he laid your beaten body in Uta's lap, while standing up. His haki began radiating off of him and his eyes seemed to almost glow.

You couldn't help but faintly chuckle as you used the last of your strength and power to form a barrier between your crew and the marines. Shanks realizing what you were doing immediately rushed to your side and pulled you into his lap while holding you close to his chest. You could feel his heart beating erratically even though he kept a calm composure on the outside. Uta carefully climbed into his lap as well and laid her head on your weakening chest, wanting to hear your heartbeat.

"Just know that this was not your fault....", you quietly whispered to Uta as you began stroking her hair, "My little Muse.... you are more powerful than you think and you come from a long line of powerful beings... they will be watching over you and so will I...."

"Please.... please don't go!" she began to cry into your chest and you felt Shanks pull the both of you even more impossibly close.

"Baby... " you looked at your red-haired lover and caressed his face with one hand while gently stroking your daughter's hair with the other, "You and Uta were my greatest adventure... sorry I had to leave it so soon... but know... I love you both... more than anything and thank you for the family you helped me build...take care of our brat, woulda?"

He smiled at that and a lonely tear fell down his face as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Always..."

With that you took your final breath and the emperor Red Hair Shanks held you close as he and your daughter wept over your loss. And as if the world mourned you as well it began to rain. Your barrier had dissipated and your death was prevelant to the world.

Shanks wrapped you in his black cloak carried you towards the ship while Beck carried Uta. She started to sing the lullaby you used to put her to bed every night with as the crew somberly walked towards the Red Force. The marines held back and lowered their heads as your body was carried past them. Respecting the person who helped save the world from a demon king and protect your child at the cost of your life in the process.

Once back at the ship, the crew readied to sail. They were going to bury you at sea in the tradition of your people. Yassop and Lucky Rouge had made the wooden raft that you were to be placed on.

The night of the ceremony, Shanks came to speak to you one last time by himself.

"You said that me and Uta was your greatest adventure. I beg to differ. Every day was an adventure with you until the day I lost you and Uta. No amount of letters or words could possibly tell you how destroyed I was being parted from the two of you for the last few years. I should have known better but....." his voice cracked, "....Just know that I have loved you ever since the moment I first laid eyes on you and no one could have asked for a better life partner nor parent than you....and...just wait a little longer for me... I expect a good ear boxing and lecture when we meet again. I love you, Baby, My Queen... and I will miss the Hell out of you. "

He kissed your lips for the last time and later that night said his last farewell with the rest of his crew and your daughter. Your family had shown up in full force with their ships surrounding the circle in which your fire pyre was held on.

For the next few months he wasn't his jolly self but no one could blame him. Uta had rejoined the Red-Haired pirates and kept a close eye on her father. Shanks never took on another lover, stating that there was no one better than you and he was a pirate after all only wanting the most valuable treasure. You had been his One Piece, and there would never be another.

****************

Mihawk

The Marines had come to your island home of Kuraigana Island. They sought out your husband as he was now a wanted man again since the dissolution of the Warlords. Your skill was unmatched but your virility was weaker than that of your husband.

Your sword swings became slower and eventually a soldier was able to mortally wound you.

"I got her!" He shouted in victory, "I got Madame Dra..." and his head was gone.

Mihawk stood over you in disbelief... his love, his angel, his goddess laid dying on the ground.

"Dragostea mea", he stated in his native Romanian tongue, "Stay with me... stay with me..."

You smiled at your lover, knowing this was your last moment. You caressed his face and held his hand to your chest. "I thank you for the time I had with you... the times I got to hold you, to love you, to make love with you.... all the beautiful things I had with you....."

"Don't speak... you need your strength...", his voice faltered for once in the whole time you had known him, "Please..... God.... don't take my only reason for living..."

"Stop... our son... our son... is worth living for...", you smiled as you felt blood dripping down your lips.

"I'll keep him safe... I'll keep our son safe... he's all I will have left of you", the Greatest Swordsman in the world began to cry.

"Cherish him but don't smother him... ", you chuckled as more blood spilled from your mouth and you could fill the blood filling up your lungs, "Keep the beautiful things close to your heart.... all of them..."

Your life left your body and your husband lost his mind. He killed every soldier that had the audacity of coming onto the island. And once he was done with his bloody work, he took your body and reverently buried it in the graveyard under the only gravestone he knew was worthy of you. World be damned knowing where his beautiful wife rested. He would keep you secret as he had kept his life.

"I held you every night and took advantage of that.... and a beautiful thing was stolen from me... Curse the Heavens for taking you from me. Curse whatever god took you from me.. and I will spend eternity in Hell fighting demons and the devil himself until I can reach you in Heaven. I know my fate, Love.... I have no right to stand next to you where you are, but I will fight like hell to get where you are...", he only let a lonely tear slide down his face as he put his hand on your tombstone. It read "Here lies the Queen of Kuraigana".

"I'll find you no matter what... just wait for me, my Love...", he muttered as he walked away.

[heph]

TLDR: Got any drawing exercises to recommend?

I’m in loooove with the way you use lines, shapes and colors/shading to show form in your art. The way you draw bodies shows a lot of understanding of the shapes that go into them, and that’s something I often personally struggle with. I’m familiar with the shapes of a face, but when it comes to connecting them to the shapes of the body and so on, I get frustrated that it’s jumbled instead of cohesive.

I was wondering, when you’re looking to practice, whether that’s anatomy, line-making, still life shapes or whatever, do you have any exercises you’ve done and would be willing to share? I’ve been trying to crawl out of the no-art-depression-hole for a bit and want to start with things that don’t take much willpower but help me improve

I might be the worst person to ask this! My relationship with art is not typical and I do not practice mindfully! (I just draw whatever I want and that's my practice, y'know?

Anyways, here's my progress of how I learnt to draw :3

Step 1 is proportions - breaking up the human body into manageable blocks and pieces. And step 2 is learning the muscles that build up the body, and from there you can simplify as needed... Or do that thing anime art kids do and skip directly to the simplified bit! (You probably shouldn't do that but if it's a hobby who cares!)

For specific tutorials, I find that proko is probably the best mix of entertaining/educational content you can find, but aside from that I watch a lot of speedpaints.

As a sort of get rich quick scheme, I think the absolute easiest way to get stupidly good at art is studying perspective - but you at least need a basic understanding of proportions and anatomy before you can draw someone in a funky perspective.

Everything in life is in perspective, and every piece of work you will ever make will have perspective in it. Perspective is sort of like an all-encompassing thing in our reality that you don't realise is there, and maybe even not realise is missing in your work (just that something feels... Wrong) AND LIKE NOBODY EVER TALKS ABOUT IT! WHAT THE FLIP!!!

I don't really have a specific source for learning perspective, because I've been on-and-off trying to wrap my head around it for a few years (I'm still awful at it but I'm getting there...!) here's a video!

I do think that drawing with progression in mind might help, but I think with art (as a hobby) the most important thing is probably love for a special guy and joy of creation. You have to love what you're drawing and the simple act of creating, or it just won't work out. If you're in a depression hole maybe just try creating for the sake of it, and don't give yourself too many expectations :)

[hannie-dul-set]

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [2].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst if you squint, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, multiple instances where personal space is invaded HAHAHHA, the boys are very dramatic please understand their yearning hearts. WORD COUNT. 4.5k.

NOTE. woohoo! next chapter to this shitshow! some parts may be a bit confusing and vague....sometimes ominous....but all will be known in due time HAHAHHA (may be tempted to give a spoiler or two if u ask). hope you enjoy! please let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far!

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 2 — these meet-cutes aren’t cute at all.

YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO READ LIPS. But you don’t need to know how to get the idea that Taehyun is shooting an insult at you right now. His face says it all. “I said you look like hell,” he repeats after you’ve removed your headphones, the music still leaking out even after you’ve settled it down the cemented table. 

“Taehyun’s right,” Gaeul pipes in, and Woohyun seconds it. “You look like crap. What did you do last night?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you grunt, melting into the table. The sound of Yeong-Il’s Second Life is still just barely playing in the background thanks to your loud as fuck headphones volume. “We finished our exams. Of course I stayed up until six in the morning watching dramas.”

Three disappointed stares and one of full respect. “Dude, you’re crazy,” says Huening. “What did you watch? Night Has Come? My Demon? You should’ve invited me. I feel betrayed.”

“Both,” you reply, but you don’t seem all too happy after consuming over twenty episodes worth of dopamine. You’re frowning. You slam a fist down the table and let out a groan. “But they don’t fill the Choi Soobin shaped hole in my heart— fuck! Why isn’t he getting employed? Why hasn’t he been posting on his Insta? It’s been six months since his last drama. I miss him already.”

Huening’s attempts to console you consist of a few pats on your back. Gaeul’s attempt is a lot more effective. “Didn’t you win a slot to Choi Yeonjun’s fansign this weekend? Aren’t you coming?” You spring up with a gasp. “Girl, don’t tell me you forgot.”

“I did! I fucking forgot because I have a deadline on the same fucking day, fuck! I want to die. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Are you still going?” asks Woohyun.

“Of course she is! Deadlines come ten times a week, but the chance to meet Choi Yeonjin comes one in a million!” Gaeul exclaims, then grabs you by the shoulders with a very serious look on her face, as if she wasn’t just disappointed that you sacrificed sleep just to watch a bunch of dramas. “Tell him I’m in love with him. No, wait, I need to tell him that in person. Tell him to wait for me. I’ll get in next time for sure.”

You whine out something that sounds like an agreement. “I haven’t prepared an outfit yet. This is so depressing. Gaeul, help me.”

Taehyun, who doesn’t share any of your unhealthy fixations, still hasn’t crawled out from his state of disappointed concern. “Just make sure you don’t miss your Saturday deadline,” he says. You roll your eyes in response.

“This is me you’re talking to. I may not seem like it, but I have my shit together. You don’t have to worry.”

They hate to admit it, but it’s true.

Your friends have always wondered how you managed to balance your hellish course load, your evening shifts at The Grind, and your hobby of fangirling over pretty and good looking men. The only reason you were able to binge two dramas until daylight is because you’ve finished all your midterm requirements before taking your exams, and you’ll definitely be able to attend the fansign because you’ll somehow finish a thirty-page paper in one day, in between classes and your work shifts.

They’re quite convinced you’re insane. The lifeless look in your eyes as you flit through your flashcards to review for a recitation later is a testament to that insanity.

But sometimes, a little spark of life manages to slip through.

Like right now, as you check a notification in your phone in the middle of reviewing.

“Shit, fuck, shit— oh my god. Yeong-Il dropped an interview, fuck, hold on—”

“Whoa, really?’ Woohyun digs his nose next to you. You guys have a graded recitation in thirty minutes, and you’re walking to the classroom with a blank face zeroed in at your phone screen in landscape instead of the flashcards you have now tossed away into your bag, paying no mind to your surroundings to the point that Gael and Huening have to make sure you’re still walking in the right direction.

Taehyun isn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned. They can’t even tell you off because they know you’ll somehow find the answers to Prof Yang’s questions anyway.

APPARENTLY, THERE’S A CAR ACCIDENT OUT FRONT. On top of having a tiring day of rehearsals and the interview with Beomgyu exposing his delusions on the internet being dropped earlier (they didn’t edit it out, those rats), Yeong-Il isn’t having a good day, so it’s to no one’s surprise the the tension inside their van on the way back to their dorms is rather palpable.

Beomgyu, however, doesn’t feel said tension. Or maybe he just doesn’t care because he’s closing his eyes, ready to nap while all the rest of the vehicles surrounding theirs are honking their horns, and while Jeongin and Jimin are monitoring the interview on a phone. The part where Beomgyu talks about his alleged first love comes up. “Beomgyu,” Heeseung groans, covering his ears with a neck pillow. “Did you really have to say all that?”

“Ahh, quit nagging. No one’s even taking it seriously,” he grumbles, arms crossed and turning over his body to face the window instead of his bandmates.

“Yeah, people are just raving about how romantic Beomgyu is,” says Jimin.

“And making edits of him and Heeseung,” adds Jeongin. “They’re mistaking your stressed-out glances at Beomgyu as signs of unrequited love—”

Heeseung shoves a hand against Jeongin’s face to shut him up. “Still. You should be more careful of what you say in front of the camera, Gyu.”

“Nyenye. You should be more careful of what you say in front of the camera, Gyu.” 

They’re friendly as usual. Heeseung can’t put in the last word because Beomgyu has completely transformed into a sleeping position— yet he can’t seem to sleep and rest despite being absolutely fucked out and tired. He lets out a groan, squirming in the car seat. “Ugh.” The car still isn’t moving. The road is still a mess. All he wants is to rest as soon as possible, and he can’t even have that. All he wants is to see you again as soon as possible, and he’s starting to feel like he can’t have that as well.

Beomgyu gives up. He begrudgingly opens his eyes and looks at the state of the traffic out the window. It’s getting dark. Streetlights are being lit up one after the other, and he watches people moving faster than the frozen cars, like the road and the sidewalk are on two separate spaces of time.

A thought enters his head. What are the chances that you’ll be one of the people walking along the sidewalk right now?

“They’re making way for an ambulance.”

It’s a fruitlessly hopeful thought, he knows. It’s a silly possibility to entertain. But still. He can’t help but examine each of the faces passing by in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, his wish from four-hundred years ago will finally fucking come true. 

“Damn, when are we getting home?”

Right when Beomgyu gives up hoping and tries to fall back asleep again, he spots a familiar face walking down the sidewalk. Wait a minute—

“Man, this sucks.”

He jolts up, There’s no way. There’s no way Beomgyu wouldn’t recognize that expression— stone-cold, looking as if the very thing in front of you is a worthless bug waiting to be stepped on, warding away any possible attempts of anyone bothering you. There are no knives in your hands, but a phone and a paper bag. You’re not adorned in the blue, red, white, and gold like he’s used to, but a large coat draped over your shoulders.

Still. Even if your face is covered by a mask, or if you’ve inhabited the body of a completely different person.

“Beomgyu, wanna play are round when we get—”

There’s no way Beomgyu wouldn’t recognize you.

Looks like the chances are high after all.

“Beomgyu?!”

The van door slides open. Beomgyu feels the cold air hitting his face as he rushes in between the gaps of the traffic-saddled cars and the spaces in between. He hears Heeseung and Jeongin and Jimin calling after him but he doesn’t give a shit. Not now. Not when he’s sure he finally has you within reach, closing in the gap between you before you can disappear into a corner. Not when all he has to do is stretch out his hand, breath caught in his throat and heart racing, and pull you by the arm so you can turn around and look at him.

And you do.

Your phone crashes to the ground, and you’re looking at him like you want to punch him in the face. Beomgyu’s heart skips a beat.

“What the hell?!”

“It’s you.”

Beomgyu watches your brows knit together, your mouth falling into a sneer. It’s like looking into a time machine. Holy shit. 

“It’s really you.”

That look of annoyance. There’s no denying it. Night has fallen. The only thing illuminating your face is a single streetlight hanging above, but he’d be stupid to mistake you for anyone else. The arm that shakes his hold off is yours. The eyes that are glaring at him— sharp as knives— are yours, yours, and yours alone and he can get lost in them for hours on end. “The fuck? Do I know—” 

Your name falls from his lips for the first time in centuries. It’s always been blurry, always at the tip of his tongue the moment his memories from four-hundred years ago came crashing back to him like a storm. But now, it comes off naturally the moment he sees you. It rolls off his tongue like it’s the only thing he was ever meant to sing.

He says your name once more. Your eyes widen in alarm.

“Are you a stalker?”

“I love you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I love you,” he repeats, breathless. “My biggest regret was failing to tell you how much I loved when I still had the chance.”

“What the fuck? What are you—”

Beomgyu reaches out for your hands, tugging you closer. Your skin burns him. Warm. Alive. “Now that I’ve been given that chance, I’m not letting go of you anymore.” He pauses, practicing the words inside his head before saying, “Let’s get married.” 

“What?!”

“I love you. I missed you. Let’s get married right now.”

You don’t say anything. You’re silent. Beomgyu feels his stomach wrench and drop and hurt all the way to his chest and lungs because why—

Why are you looking at him like that? 

“I’m going to call the fucking cops.” Once again, you shove him off, pulling your hands back and pressing them close to your chest. “There’s a crazy fucking bastard on the— shit! My phone! The screen is cracked, gosh! I haven’t even finished paying for it, for fuck’s sake, you have to— ex—excuse me, are you crying? Are you actually crying? What the hell?”

Beomgu’s vision is cloudy and his cheeks are wet. He knows you’ve always been spunky. You’ve always had an attitude and you two didn’t start off on the right foot, either. But why are you acting like you don’t know him? Like he’s some sort of fucking stranger? 

“Hey, I should be the one crying right now! You broke my phone! What is wrong with—”

“There you are!”

Suddenly, he doesn’t see you anymore. Heeseung’s voice comes crashing in and he gets shoved aside, eyes stinging and mind still in a daze. “I’m so, so sorry for my friend over here. We can’t pay for the damages right away, but please take this. Again, we’re so sorry! Hope you have a great night, still!”

No. He can’t let you slip away again. Not when he can finally hold you in his arms like all the countless times he hasn’t. “Dude, what are you doing?!” Heeseung yanks him back before he can run after you down the sidewalk. “Quit being weird. Why the hell are you crying?”

Beomgyu is having a hard time understanding. He’s not sure if he can’t, or if he simply doesn’t want to believe this— but your eyes don’t lie. He can tell if you’re annoyed by him just by looking at you. He can tell if you’re angry, regretful, elated, or drunk from the onslaught of his affections, so this time— he can clearly tell as well.

He can tell just from the look in your eyes that you don’t remember him.

That all those years of waiting for you was all for naught.

SOOBIN KNOWS THAT HE SHOULDN’T BE HERE RIGHT NOW. He knows that he’s supposed to be on a diet, and he knows that he has a photo shoot for a magazine this weekend. He even got rid of his stash of instant ramyeon because of that, deleted all those delivery apps because this’ll be his first schedule after a few months of taking a break.

But he is here, at one in the morning, in between the isles of the 7-Eleven nearest to his apartment building, because cravings sometimes trump rationality, and god he sure is craving for a cup of noodles. Or two. Two sounds good. And since he’s already here, might as well put a pack of milk bread in his basket. A can of Sprite too. Manager Lee is gonna kill him, but at least he’ll die full and satisfied.

“Hey, hold the door open for me.”

“Don’t you have hands?”

“Nice! They have empty seats outside. Waiting here. Buy me some donuts.”

Ah, shit. Soobin pulls his hood over his head and readjusts his mask. Sounds like a group coming in. He should pay later once the store’s emptier— meaning, he has no choice but to browse for more snacks to add to his basket. Totally not because he wants to, no. 

“Why’d you bring your laptop all the way here? You can continue working in Woohyung’s apartment.”

“Yeah, girl. There’s still a lot of time before the deadline.”

Soobin doesn’t want to eavesdrop, but the voices are talking pretty loudly. He’s dropping a few packets of yakgwa cookies into his basket while listening to a group of college students mourning about their courses. Good thing he chose not to pursue tertiary education. 

“I need to finish this as soon as possible if I want to attend the fucking fansign. Crap, I should’ve switched majors when I had the chance.”

He abruptly stops snack surfing. Wait. Pause. Hold on.

“Should’ve done that before junior year.”

“I know. Shut up. Get me a popsicle, please. Chocolate. Thank you.”

That voice—

“They ran out. Only strawberry or melon. Pick one”

“That’s fucking balls.”

“You’re so eloquent.”

“Suck my fucking dick.”

Okay. Nevermind. It’s kinda weird to hear a voice that sounds eerily similar to the love of his life’s saying so much obscenities. You only spoke pretty words to him before, so maybe he’s just tripping. There’s no way you’d swear so much, so he continues browsing the snack aisle. Maybe he just misses you so much that he’s starting to mistake a similarly sounding voice as yours and subconsciously letting his hopes up.

“Hyun, by the way. I forgot to mention. I met a Choi Beomgyu lookalike last night on the way home from work. It was fucking wild.”

Then again, he thinks, arm paused hovering above a bag of chips. People didn’t really say suck my fucking dick in Joseon era.

Soobin stops filling his basket and starts moving out of the aisle, following the sound of your voice.

“I almost fell in love on the spot, but the guy wasn’t right in the head, I think.” Closer. You’re starting to sound closer. “He knew my name. He kept acting like he knew me and asked me to fucking marry him? I even dropped my phone because he scared the shit out of me. I don’t know, it was wild.”

Where? Where are you?

“Dude, really? No way.”

“I’m serious! I’m telling you—”

Where the hell are you?

“I even got a card from his friend when he dragged the Beomgyu clone away. I have it here, take a loo— wait. Wait. Isn’t BH the agency that manages Yeong-Il? Am I wrong— oh, sorry!”

There you are.

There’s a stain on his hoodie. Bright pink. It matches the popsicle you’re holding, the varsity jacket you’re wearing, and the color painting his cheeks because you’re right in front of him. You’re actually right in front of him right now— face flushed with panic, eyes rapidly blinking. “Are—are you Choi Soobin?” someone says. Not you. You’re still profusely apologizing while trying to wipe away the stain with your jacket sleeve.

“That’s ridiculous, Huening. Go get me some tissues! I’m so, so sorry, oh gosh. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

You’re here. It’s actually you. His heart is racing. He can’t fucking breathe. He’s not sure if he should cry, scream, or all of the above.

But there’s something different. There’s something wrong.

“I can tell Choi Soobin from a picture of his ear! I’m telling you it’s him!” Your attention is pulled away by your companion tugging on your arm. “You’re Choi Soobin, right?! Jipuragi? Figured Obscurity?”

“Dude, you’re making him uncomfortable! Why in the world would Choi Soobin be—”

Soobin pulls down his mask, tugging on its fabric. When you turn back to look at him, your popsicle drops to the ground and you let out a gasp.

Your eyes are shining. You’re beaming. You do recognize him. You do know him.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m such a big fan.”

Just not in the way he was hoping for.

“Y—yeah. Would you like a picture?”

You let out a squeal. So does your friend. This isn’t how Soobin expected his reunion with you to go about. This is wrong. He had it all planned in his head like a screenplay, and all that was left was to execute it without fail.

The moment he sees you, he was supposed to spin you around and hear your laughter fluttering in the air. He was supposed to hold you in his arms and give you the first kiss he’d been saving in this life because he’s been waiting for you all this time, yearning for years and years to give you the life he wasn’t able to in the past. To make up for everything you missed because in this life— there’s no class system to keep you apart. There’s nothing stopping him from loving you out in the open.

He didn’t expect to give you his autograph and take a fan selca with you after years of waiting.

This is so wrong. This is so freaking wrong.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” who he assumes is your friend says, and you’re smiling so, so brightly while looking at the photo of you and him that everything he wishes to say and profess and confess just lodges in his throat, blocking everything in its path.

“Thank you! Don’t worry, we won’t post this anywhere,” you say. Soobin holds back the inhuman urge to tell you why settle for a photo, when you can have him instead?

“S—sure. Anytime.”

“Ah, we should probably give you some privacy now. Huening, stop gawking! Anyway, fighting! We’re looking forward to your upcoming dramas!”

Just like that, you leave. You walk out of the store and join the rest of your friends outside, and he sees you showing off the signature he left on your receipt from the window, when he could give you so much more than that, when you could show off that you already own his entire heart. This...this really isn’t how he wanted to reunite with you. And the underlying reason for it something he doesn’t want to entertain.

“YEONJUN, YOU’RE UP IN TEN,” says a staff member. It’s the last week of promotions, and Yeonjun is getting his hair and makeup retouched one last time before he’s set to go uponstage to open the fansign. His manager tells him not to do anything stupid, or scandalous, or all of the above onstage— an almost everyday reminder that Yeonjun, more often than not, isn’t interested in listening to.

“Noona, you should trust me more,” he reacts, a slight whine in his tone. Manager Kim’s expression is nothing but dubious.

“At the very least warn me before you do something insane so I can prepare.”

“Will do,” Yeonjun grins, and his manager waves him off. Screams erupt the moment he emerges from behind the stage curtains, and everything else just comes naturally for Choi Yeonjun— not needing to second guess when he blows a kiss mid-performance, stirs the crowd with a comment or two, and making sure that all eyes are on him, almost as if he was born on every stage he steps foot on.

And to think he started this career without any desire for stardom.

Now, there’s nothing he desires more than blinding lights and the visceral sounds of cheers.

“A—ah, hello!” 

Well. There is one thing.

“Crap, I—I’m so nervous I don’t think I can breathe.”

“Oh no,” replies Yeonjun to the fan sitting before him, marker in hand as he flips open the tabbed page on the nth album splayed out on the table. “Should I give you CPR to help you start breathing again?” 

The girl lets out something sort of a squeal. He grins out a laugh and asks for her name and if she’s eaten anything yet.

“Thank you! Oh— oh, wait, one more thing—”

“Next!”

It’s a fast paced rotation. It always is. But Yeonjun uses the split second before the next person carousels in front of him to make a quick scan across the people lining up, across the people waiting in the audience seats, clinging onto the sliver of probability that this may finally be the day where his years of yearning for the ghost of past can finally end— well overdue for god knows how long already. 

He reuses and rehashes the same lines, same dialogue, and same greetings for the next person, and the next person, and the next and the next and the next. It’s just one face after another. Not that he’s bored, or unappreciative of the fans that spent their time (and truckloads of money) to see him. But it’s human to feel a sense of disappointment when the face he wants to see doesn't turn up after the fifth, tenth, seventh, hundredth, thousand, nth face, fansign after a fansign.

“Next.”

His wrist is getting sore, back is getting tired, but Yeonjun readies himself for another round of mindless chat, missing the opportunity to do his routine scans when he closes his eyes to roll back his shoulders. 

“Oh.”

Yeonjun hears the voice in front of him say. It’s a singular syllable, not even a word, but it’s enough to snap him wide awake.

“Oh my gosh,” you say again. Yeonjun doesn’t feel his fingertips. “You’re even prettier up close, whoa, this is crazy.”

He’s frozen. The usual ments and words and lines that usually flow naturally off his tongue don’t come. His brain is empty. The ink from his marker seeps into the album page underneath his numb hands. He hears his manager say something, but his manager’s voice is so far away— so, so, so far away, but the face he;s been yearning for in his memories is now, all of a sudden and without warning, within an arm’s reach, right before his eyes.

The marker stumbles out of his grasp. If Yeonjun reaches an arm out right now—

“U—uh.”

—he’d be able to touch your face.

“O—oh, holy shit, okay so we’re doing this now.”

And he is. The very feeling of your soft skin, unchanged from the feeling stored in the capsules of his memories, burns stronger than the adrenaline he feels when he’s onstage under the spotlight.

It’s real. You’re real.

You’re right in front of him right now.

“Choi Yeonjun, what the hell are you doing?!”

The hiss of his manager from behind is ignored when he suddenly springs up from behind the table, and you let out a yelp when he drags you up along with him. He’s holding both of your hands, thumbs brushing over the ridges of your knuckles before pulling them closer to his chest. There’s whispering in the background, along with the snaps and flashes of the numerous cameras littered everywhere in the venue.

“Yeonjun.”

He pays no mind to them. Instead he brings up your hands to his face and presses a kiss onto your knuckles. 

There’s a scream and gasp and a yell coming from somewhere. 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

But all he’s focused on is the swirls in your widened eyes, dizzy and taken aback, voiceless with your mouth hanging open. Yeonjun furrows his brows. “Why don’t you look happy to see me, my love?” You hack out a hard cough and Yeonjun drops your hands in surprise. “What’s— what’s wrong?” he stammers, leaning forward and closing into your face while you turn away from him, digging more unease into his bones because this...this doesn’t seem right.

“Sh—shit, I think I need to sit down, oh my god,” he hears you say, and it hits him. Yes. You were never good at expressing your affection. Yes, yes. Perhaps you’re just overtaken by a surge of emotions, that your appearance looks like that of constipated confusion of trepidation as a result of being overwhelmed by the fact that you’re so in love with him and that you’re happy to see him again.

Yes. That must be it. You’re both sat back down, and he scribbles something on your now ink-stained album. “Next.” And when you’re just about to bow and leave, he says your name— one that he thought he’s forgotten— and you freeze.

“Why do you look so surprised?” he laughs. “There’s no need to be shy. Should I kiss you again to ease your— ack!”

“Next! Next person!” 

Suddenly, you’re being scurried away. “No, wait!” he yells out, but the moment he tries to get up again, he’s jerked right back.

His manager is holding the back of his collar, and you’re disappearing into the crowd. Was…was Manager Kim always this strong? He can’t even budge, can’t even run after you after he’d finally been reunited with you again.

“Choi Yeonjun, that’s enough!”

He blinks, remembering belatedly just where he is right now.

There’s still a line of people waiting for him. Yeonjun drops back to his seat, his manager losing her grip on his shirt, and he brings himself back after a round of inhales and exhales. It’s alright, he thinks to himself. It’s gonna work out. “Sorry about that,” he hums, smiling at a now different face sitting in front of him. “What did you tell me your name was?”

You’ve been separated from him yet again, but this time it’s fine. He’s not anxious. He’s certain that it won’t take centuries for you to return to each other, no— it won’t be long until then because this time, he’s not dead. 

You’re both still alive at this point in time.

And that enough assures him that he’s going to find his way back to you.

“Next!”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[bullet-prooflove]

5500 Follower Celebration: Safehouse - Nick Torres x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @whateversomethingbruh @district447 @lovebookheart @stelacole

Companion piece to:

Casanova - You recieve an unwanted gift.

Promises - Nick makes you a promise.

Dry Land - Nick returns home.

A Little Naughty, A Little Nice - Casanova reflects on your relationship.

It’s barely dawn when you wake up to the sensation of Nick slipping out from underneath the sheets. You feel the absence of his warmth, hear the zip of his duffle bag before he starts to dress in the dark.

“Baby…” You drawl, propping your head up on your arm. “Don’t put your clothes on, come back to bed.”

Nick tilts his head towards you, his features highlighted by the orange glow that filters through the blinds of the safe house you’re currently residing in. He’s wearing that smile, the one that settles something in your chest.

“You know I would like nothing more than climb back into those sheets and fuck you into the mattress.” He tells you as he pulls on that black t-shirt over his perfectly sculpted chest. “But the sooner we catch the guy, the sooner we can go home and not worry about the agents in next room overhearing us.”

That’s the downside of the safehouse, it’s not just Nick keeping you company. It’s two members of Lisa’s team too, ones that probably heard Nick helping you relieve a little stress last night.

You sigh as you flop back onto the sheets and stare up at the ceiling. Up until now you’ve been pretending the past twelve hours were some sort of vacation, you and Nick holed up in a fancy apartment, tangled up in each other but now reality is crashing in and you remember the real reason you’re here.

“Hey.” Nick says softly and you feel the mattress depress alongside of you as he crawls back onto the bed. His thumb chases over the apple of your cheek as he lies down beside you. “This won’t be forever.”

“It feels like it.” You tells him. “It feels like I’m trapped within my own life. I can’t go home, can’t go to work, I’m just stuck here…”

“I know.” Nick says kissing the corner of your mouth. “How about I have someone bring some of your cases over, you can build a murder board in the living room, spread the pictures out across the floor the way you do in the room in the office. You can do a little good while we’re holed up here.”

“I would like that.” You mumble as his lips begin to wander lower. “You’re sure you can’t stay for thirty more minutes?”

“I wish I could.” He mutters, huffing his displeasure into the curve of your throat. “But Knight’s already downstairs waiting.”

You pout as he pulls away and he chuckles as his thumb traces over your pert lips, dipping between them. You bite down lightly and he groans at the sensation before he climbs off the bed readjusting himself in his jeans.

“I have to go to work with this now.” He whines and you give him a mischievous look as you climb out of the bed, naked in all your glory. It only serves to make him harder, his cock throbbing in the confines of the denim as you head inside the en-suite.

“I’m going to be thinking about you in the shower.” You taunt him and it takes every ounce of self-restraint Nick has not to follow you into the bathroom and fuck you in the shower.

“You’re a wicked woman Harper.” He calls out as the water turns on and he hears your laughter over it, followed by the shower door closing.

“Don’t forget those files.” You remind him as he picks up his keys, tutting at your naughtiness.

It’s half an hour later that there’s a knock on the door. You step out of the shower, winding the silk kimono around your body before you hurry towards it, pulling it open.

“Deputy Director.” You say, your damp hair falling across your features. “What are you doing here?”

He holds up the files you requested along with two cups of take out coffee.

“I’ve told you before.” He replies before stepping inside. “Call me Gabe.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[lucifersgirl]

More

Sorry I haven’t been posting a lot, y’all. Depression hits hard. Anyways, enjoy this little something I put together for y’all! Love you!

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ - THIS WRITING CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT. SMUT BELOW. MDNI.

You slipped the first dildo into Lucifer’s ass.

Lucifer gasped as you pushed it inside of him. The dildo wasn’t too big, but it still made Lucifer claw at the sheets some. “W-why didn’t you use the bigger one?” He asked, looking at the other plastic dick you had beside you.

You grinned slyly. “You’ll see.” You continued to push the smaller dildo into Lucifer for a while, his groans and gasps growing. Suddenly you halted your movements.

Lucifer whined. “W-why’d you s-stop?”

You didn’t answer, turning your attention to the larger prosthetic cock next to you. You slathered it in lube.

Lucifer looked behind him and saw what you were doing. He smiled. “Yes…oh god, yes…” he muttered.

You crawled over to Lucifer and placed the tip against his asshole.

“W-wait,” Lucifer said. “D-don’t you have to t-take the other one o-out?”

You chuckled. “No.”

Lucifer didn’t even get the chance to speak before you slowly forced the second dildo into him. A gasp tumbled from his lips.

You barely let him get adjusted before harshly thrusting both plastic cocks into him.

Lucifer clawed at the sheets and moaned loudly. “T-too much!” He cried out as his wings popped out, his horns and tail following closely after.

You smiled and bent down to kiss his back, still relentlessly shoving both dicks into his ass. “You can take it, baby,” you said to him in a sultry tone.

Lucifer shook his head and buried his face in the pillows beneath him. “N-no…I c-can’t…I can’t!” He whimpered as tears fell down his face. “‘s too m-much!”

You laughed softly. You loved seeing him unravel beneath you.

Lucifer screamed into the pillows. “H-hurts!” He sobbed. His legs shook and he was now covered in a thin sheet of sweat.

You kissed and nipped at Lucifer’s neck. You sucked on a particular spot you knew he liked.

Lucifer’s tail gripped onto your wrist, stopping you from moving the dildos inside of him.

You used your other hand to pull Lucifer’s tail harshly, making him straighten out his body as he moaned. His grip on you loosened. You continued your movements.

Lucifer wailed as his asshole was stretched out. He had absolutely shredded the sheets below him. His wings flapped uncontrollably, making the room grow colder. “Ahm!…c-close!…angh!…ohgodohgodpleaseeee!…sh-shit!” He yowled.

“Go ahead, my love,” you whispered in his ear.

With a loud “fuck!” Lucifer came all over the ruined bedsheets.

You continued to pump both cocks in and out of his hole, riding him through his orgasm.

After a moment, Lucifer’s wings, horns and tail retreated and his breathing slowed.

You pulled the dildos out of Lucifer’s ass and cleaned him up.

When you were done, Lucifer snapped his fingers and new, clean sheets appeared. He held out his hand to you and wrapped his arms around you.

You were both asleep in a matter of minutes.

————————

[ofallthingsnasty]

tw: yandere, kidnapping/basement spousery, depression, mentions of noncon, gn reader characters: Crocodile, Sanji, Doflamingo, Law word count: 1.3k

One thing I learned recently is that I'm definitely a social creature and would get horribly, horribly depressed as someone's basement wife, even a well entertained one. All the books, the crafts, the soft music in the world couldn't prevent me from sobbing into my pillows, couldn't get me to crawl out of bed and to paint a smile on my face. Oh, but how would your captor react? For some, it's definitely a necessary evil - Crocodile comes to mind here. Annoyed by your lethargy, by your random tears and your meek, taciturn responses, he finds himself frustrated at times. This state of mind really isn’t ideal - he wanted you docile, sure, but not lifeless. Yet it's also awfully convenient when you just let him push you around, let him caress and touch you - and not out of fear of him, simply because you don't care to struggle. He discovers that he can forgive a lot when you're especially shaken and cling to him, bury your head in his chest because he's the only human you'll ever know again and the world is so bleak around you and you just need him right now. Of course, it would be nicer if you didn't do it because he's the only warm-blooded creature that you interact with, but he'll take what he can get. (And with time, it weirdly grows on him: him turning into the center of your life, the way your eyes seem to light up the tiniest bit when he comes home to you, something he thought mildly annoying at first turning out to be awfully convenient.)

To others, it's devastating. Sanji lives for your smiles, your warmth, the way your eyes crinkle and you jut your head forward when you fully, genuinely laugh - total apathy is worse than antagonism to him. If you were to scream, shout, put your fingers around his neck and squeeze with the desperation of a cornered prey animal, he'd at least get a reaction, some signs of life out of you. But you don't even do that. You just sit and try to suppress tears while he holds your hand. Sometimes he just cries with you, letting himself fall into the same hole you're being pulled into. It makes him regret taking you so utterly, bitterly, makes him feel all those memories from when he was a child bubble up in his stomach until they force themselves out and he has to vomit to be rid of them. He’s just like his father, he thinks, and it makes him sick. He’s rotten down to the very core, cursed from birth and now he has gone and soiled you, too - he’ll end up sobbing into the crook of your neck more than once, full of genuine remorse. And all you’ll be able to do is absentmindedly pat his hair, thoughts spilling like an knocked over ink well. No, you slipping into a deeply depressive state is only going to worsen the hatred he has for himself, is going to poison him slowly and steadily until he’ll be in agony. Maybe it’s his just punishment.

Then there are the ones like Doflamingo who simply don’t care. You don’t crawl out of bed until noon? You just stare into space or bury yourself in books when you finally do? You’re just lifeless by his side, just blink, shrug your shoulders when spoken to, just exist? Whatever, he has always treated you like a doll from the start. He can even weather the elusive bouts of sobbing and crying (even if he hates it when they happen), because most of the time you’re just his poseable thing and he is nothing if not generous to allow you a tantrum here and there. He doesn't feel bad about you being a more of a hollowed out shell of a person than a fully-fledged human with a rich inner life and doesn't care that most of it is his fault - his fault that you fester and rot beneath the surface, his fault that all the opulent, vibrant clothing and the scorching hot days by the pool still leave you frosty and weirdly bloodless, like a cold-blooded creature in winter. Food is ash in your mouth and only sours your stomach but you still eat when he tells you to, touches feel foreign and loveless but you still let him fuck you if he so wishes. Why should he care what circles around in your head when he gets to do anything he wants to you? That you feel like life is no luster, only desperation? The truly bothersome parts are taken care of by his myriad of servants and the family. Messes left behind get cleaned up, baths are forced on you regularly, as are grooming sessions. If you don’t get dressed on your own either someone else will see to it or he will - and he’ll have his payment for his time, trust me. The solemn mood, the non-existent smiles… he doesn't care for that. You’re not here for your entertainment, you’re here for his. And you just accepting your fate and letting him do whatever it is he wants… That’s just perfect, isn’t it?

Of course, let’s not forget about the ones who secretly love it. Law is a prime example, especially with his medical background. He isn’t surprised that your mood sways - he expected as much when he restricted your every move, declared the outside world to be too unhealthy for you. Of course you’d slip into a depressive episode. And it’s not a flaw, it’s intentional. Because now - now, when you can’t peel yourself out of bed, when everything feels too much, when you can’t feed or move or dress or take care of yourself- he gets to swoop in. He gets to do it for you, gets to tell you that he’s here and that he’ll always catch you when you fall. That his assessment of your condition was accurate - that you always needed him, right from the start. Dependency is worth more than all the love in the world to him. It simply doesn’t matter if you’d rather slit his throat than to behave for him out of your own volition - as long as you can’t leave. Even if he genuinely loves you, he’s not deluded enough to cling to daydreams of him and you living a quiet, happy life full of reciprocated affection, that ship has long sailed - sailed ever since his childhood got irrevocably destroyed. No. Love is nice and good and makes him wash you gladly, makes him care for you with delicate hands and with a patient brow - but your sickness makes you stay, renders you unable to leave him. It’s the only currency he can trade in when it comes to you. He’s your savior and tormentor rolled into one person; but above all he is the only one who cares and will forever care. You could rot yourself into a pathetic, sweat-soaked, disgusting corner, could turn into nothing but a husk and he’d always, always nurse you out of the ditch he’s found you in, just at the right time.  What he doesn’t tell you is that he could help you. At least artificially. Boost your moods with SSRIs until you bounce off the walls with nervousness and sweat thrice as much; make you giddy and shaky until you get used to the dose. Until the world seems worth living in once more, until at least some color returns to your drab eyes. He could get you the medication, even try some speech therapy, could help you like a good boyfriend should. But why? It makes no sense. Why help you only to get some fire back, maybe even for you to slip through his fingers? It’s easier to sit in twosome silence with tired eyes watching him, eyes that one day might be grateful for all the work he has put into them. Until then, it’s of utmost importance that they stay right where they are: in a cramped, dirty corner of a bed, dull and lifeless.

[writingoddess1125]

I Fell in love Alone

Was on my sad Spotify and thought of this. First sad fic!

Enjoy Depression!!

Sad Angst

No warnings just sadness

Buggy x GN reader

Part 2

Sitting up from bed, you covered yourself with the large patchwork blanket still nude from the evening before and alone like every morning after.

For 6 months it had been this way with your Captian- the infamous Captian Buggy, at first it had started off as a drunken fling but he kept calling you back.. every night he called for you, had you sit close to him, whisper sweet words over how you were his only. This had continued for these 6 months but every day that passed you couldn't help but feel... empty?

It was like his words had become no better then a script that he followed in order for you to stay the night in his bed, like his touches were to only satisfy his need and not to savor you.

Sitting there in his large bed you look around, like for the first time you'd seen it. Had he ever spent a morning with you? Ever bothered to wake you up from your slumber?... had he ever kissed you? A hollowness began to fill your soul as the realization flooded you.

Getting up you dress quickly, not wanting to stay in the room any longer as that hollowness seemed to fill you further. Rushing out quickly you head out to go to the messhall for a meal, walking in you heard the place filled to the brim. No one bothered to question were you had come from- everyone knew.

Getting your food you sat with a random group of performers.

"Oh person of the month I see" Some of them giggle at you, they always did this- while they were too fearful to outright call you our of your name they would do this instead.

"You do know I heard (Y/N) his flavor of the month right? Is pushing six months- Gotta say longest Captian has had so theyve gotta be doing something right"

The juggler girl said with a laugh, the others at the table also agreeing. Some of the people there talking about their time with the Captian as well, you sitting quietly pushing around your breakfast as you felt a hole in your heart developing with each tale of passionate nights and sweet nothings he had said to your fellow crewmates that he did bed drunk or sober alike.

Their words felt like blades against paper skin and they just cut so deep.

After exiting the messhall you went to your post- continuing to do the large labor of your job, the pull from your muscles and sweat from your back not even facing you as the labor felt better then his gaze which you knew was following you. He always did like to watch you, Normally you turn back and smile at him savoring his validation but.. not now.. not ever again.

You hadn't stopped, not until the call for dinner had brought you out of your working daze. The need for food beating the emotional exhaustion, so you headed back to the mess hall to gather some food.

Making a plate you try to hide, seeing Buggy was there laughing loudly and drinking. You knew the moment he saw you he'd-

"Ah there you are (Y/N)! Come over here" He said with a laugh and waved you over. Reluctantly you did, knowing were he wanted you- seated right to his side so he could show you off while speaking with his underlings. Like a child showing off his shiny toy.

He laughed loudly, his hand finding its way to your hip as he held you close.. your skin crawling st the feeling as you felt more like an object then anything romantic at this point.

"So as I was saying- I'm sure (Y/N) doesn't mind- besides I'm sure they would wear a (least favorite color) leotard for the next show!" He laughed, his hands still on you as he spoke like you weren't even there. It felt like he had just stabbed you in the chest, as a burn of embrassment surgery through you. Looking up to see a few of your peers from afar looking at you, like for the first time you had seen the pity in their eyes and the second hand embrassment at the sight of you.

"Buggy... what is my favorite color?" You ask calmly, He looked at you with a raised brow laughing off the question as he thought it was a joke at first. It wasn't until he caught your eye that he realized you were serious and his lips sealed shut at the lack of answer.

"....When is my birthday?" You ask a different question, a realization of what you were doing set in and he gave a laugh placing his hand back on your hip.

"I know we're your birthmark is" He says with a laugh as the other crewmates in earshot laughed as well. You gently peel his hand from your hip and stand up, Walking out of the mess hall as you hear Buggy call after you which you ignored.

Humiliation shot through your system as the feeling of hot tears warmed your eyes... you were a fool- The biggest fool in this entire circus that you were apart of. Walking out onto the deck you grab one of the spare blankets that seemed to always be left out, wasn't like anyone really kept the place organized anyway..

Standing by the railing of the ship you wrapped the blanket around yourself tighter, looking out at the endless sea. At night like this when the moon was full it looked like you were sailing on stars.

"Hey There you are! What the hell was that about? You made me look like a fool in there!-" Buggy started, you could hear he was buzzed just by the jovial tone in his voice.

"Ha... you the fool.. hilarious" You say softly the feeling of fresh tears staring to run down your face-

"Aw don't be that way baby! Come on its no big deal anyway, let's say I make it up to you back in my cabin and we forget this night even happened"

You look back at Buggy, The large tears running down your cold cheeks. He froze, his heart clenching at the sight of you like this and he.. didn't know what to do- What to say. Had you ever cried in the times you had know him.

"Whats wrong why are yo-" You cut him off quick. Closing your eyes tightly in hopes to stop the tears.

"What is my favorite color?.. a food I like.. anything?" You whispered out, Biting your lip to keep a sob back.

"I...I what do you want me to say (Y/N)?.. I mean is it uh Is it Gray? Blue? Red? I mean you like... Me?" He managed to breath out a forced laugh, swallowing a lump in his throat as he gestured randomly around himself like you could understand how ridiculous this was for him.

"You don't love me do you?.. I really am just am your flavor of the month right?"

Buggy's face falls at your words. You take a shaky breath at this and wait for his answer, but he just stands there opening and closing his mouth unable to form words- A mix of a gentle sob and laugh finally escape you at his lack of answer.

You sniffles and wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself as if it could cover the vulnerability you felt and fear in your heart. Turning away from Buggy as you slowly walked past him, wiping the few remaining tears away.

"You know....I never thought I'd fall in love alone. Goodnight Captian..."

You say softly before heading downstairs, leaving Buggy standing on the deck of his ship alone and a pain he had never felt before in his heart.

[woundedsoul12]

I get by with a little help from my friends

Going to be loud on main for this one. I have met tons of wonderful people since my return to writing, AO3, and Tumblr. But going to introduce you to the 5 people that I speak to daily that keep me going. The reason I haven't given up yet and just crawled back into my obscure hole. And know if you aren't mentioned I still adore you. This is just my Crew

So now you get to learn a little about them and what makes them so special.

1. @tarasmom - Like the only person I get to beta for me (the few times I use a beta). Tara is my hyper fixation deep dive sister from another mister. Want to lore plunge into some obscure reference? Want to talk through the history of the Tevinter Empire? Tara got you. Tara just... gets me. Like look across the room lock eyes and have a whole conversation. Standing in the middle of jellyfish fields with our nets screaming with excitement like SpongeBob and Patrick. And tbh one of the first people I found when I returned to fandom. Her Rook is Mina Aldwir and she's the queen of expose style writing and complex plots

2. @captastra - yet another I found early in my return. I think she more found me. Like a feral kitten outside her door. She is my adventure buddy. My 'hey Beasty I want to do this get out your shell and come with me'. Multi fandom bestie! Dragging me along for a good time. Not letting me be a loser. Inspiration for so many things I put into the universe. Her Rook is Nesiri Ingellvar and I love her so much. And Feylis her Avowed is just... everything to me

3. @lustaniasaxon - the only person I will cowrite with. My resident Illario lover. My muse. The person who keeps me going when I'm tired. A fellow gender bender. The only one I have found who can channel the ADHD into something useful. Her Rook is Lustania de Riva. Lover to my boys Sam and Brick.

4. @julie-spirit-finn - My fellow Healthcare bitch. Keeping people alive one idiot at a time. Listening to me bitch constantly about real life and fandom. Reading every single thing I write and leaving the best damn comments. Ultimate cheerleader and hopeless romantic. The most positive person I know in the most non annoying way. Helping me sort my complex silly plotlines no matter how dumb. Introducing me to Dread Rook. Turning me into a Solas lover. I might have never shipped him with Lavellan (she goes with Cullen) but I definitely like him with Rook.

5. And last but not least @thebarghestiest - fellow transmasc extraordinare. No one else can understand like we can huh? Again reading everything I write. Always commenting. Always supporting me. Listening to my stupid ideas and being like 'look bro I love it' even when you should probably tell me to stfu. Being cool with Julie and I just inviting ourselves to the Sleep Token concert. Putting up with all my dumb shit and depression. And screaming about Davrook, AUs, and dead doves with me. His Rook is Titus Ingellvar. Oh and the Durge Ghost who loves my Halsin bear daddy

And I guess I will finish up with I'm Beasty. I write entirely too much and the restlessness is strong. I'm also an antisocial loner but these people? We just vibe

Also if you have time, go read their works. They are all fucking amazing writers.