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writeonwhiskey · 23 days ago

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act like you love me: ch 7 (18+) MDNI

a/n: this is coming out at this random hour because i forgot to send out the snippet on the mailing list again and i feel bad 😔 enjoy! word count: 4,780 tracklist: love untold, railway (i've once again placed in the chapter where these songs were most impactful while writing if you wanna feel that vibe out) [ fic master list ]

7 - The Scene After the Scene

WEEK 6 (continued)

Getting through that rehearsal took all the thoughts and prayers. It was a constant barrage of physical contact with Hyunjin after three days of being apart. Granted, that’s not a lot of time, when you think about it, but you haven’t gone more than a day without seeing him since you started filming.

You didn’t expect to miss him. You didn’t expect to leave set wanting more.

But you did. And you still do.

A few weeks ago, you couldn’t have fathomed feeling remotely fond about that man, let alone yearning to be near him. But in the time that has passed, you’ve seen and learned so much that opposes your initial assumptions of him. His gentle, compassionate side has been on display more frequently and that, combined with all that continues to shift between you—since dinner, since the club, since the camping trip—is threatening to undo your professionalism.

It’s a continuously growing revelation.

The biggest takeaway from today, though, is that Chan approved of the choreographed scene. He sat and listened to the suggestions you and Hyunjin had come up with for the filming style, too. You’re beyond thankful to Chan for being willing to work with you, and to Hyunjin for helping you voice your concerns, addressing them, and eagerly working to make it something you’re comfortable with having on screen.

After you wrapped for the day, you were tempted to hang around in your trailer until Hyunjin finished but figured it would be best not to.

However, since coming back to your hotel room, all you’ve thought about is the potential repercussions of pursuing something physical with Hyunjin. But with the way that rehearsal went down, you also considered how good it might feel when the layers of clothing are finally removed.

You close your eyes, sinking into the couch as you imagine the feeling of his hands touching every part of your body, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach and your pussy quivers at the thought. You bite your bottom lip, hand creeping toward the waistband of your pajama bottoms.

You have to be professional at work. But when you’re home alone…

Your phone suddenly buzzes next to you, and you startle, heart pounding as if you’ve been caught. Your eyes widen, reading the name on the screen: Persistent Prince 👑.

Why right now?

Is this a sign?

Or maybe an omen?

You contemplate letting it go to voicemail, but you’re too curious and too hopeful right now. You clear your throat, press the answer button and put the phone to your ear.

“Do you bother all your co-workers this much?” you ask dryly, as if you weren’t just about to diddle your fucking bean to thoughts of him.

“No. Just you.” He replies and your heart smiles. “So, you’re up?”

“Clearly.”

“You busy?” he asks, ignoring your sarcasm.

Although you’ve always spoken to each other this way, it doesn’t have the same weight of pettiness and bickering as it once did.

You quirk a brow. “Why?”

“Meet me in the lobby in thirty minutes.”

“What if I’m busy?”

“If you were you wouldn’t have answered. Unless…” he trails off.

“Unless…?”

“You’ve been waiting for my call.” You can practically hear the smile in his voice. “See you in thirty.”

He hangs up, giving you no time to accept or decline.

You could disregard the invite and stay cooped up in your room for the night. In fact, that’s probably the best choice.

But you’re already standing from the couch, forsaking that logical little voice in the back of your mind. You head straight to the bedroom, puzzled about what to wear. He didn’t mention a dress code. Jeans and a t-shirt? Or something sexier? He did seem to like your outfit at the club a lot.

No. The least you can do is not tip this in that direction by wearing anything too thought-provoking. You’re just going to hangout. That’s it. Jeans and a t-shirt it is.

Thirty minutes later you’re standing in the lobby of the hotel, looking around nervously for fear that Minho or Han might see you. But you remind yourself that you hang out with them all the time.

This wouldn’t seem any different...

Hyunjin emerges from the other elevator moments after you. He’s clad in dark clothing, a hat pulled low and covering far too much of his features. He gestures towards the exit, and you walk out together.

“Where are we going?” you ask as Changbin takes off.

“You’ll see when we get there,” he replies.

You hide your smile. A surprise?

“What made you call out of the blue?” you ask.

“We didn’t have a lot of time together on set today.”

You can’t be sure, but it feels like an ‘I missed you’ is hidden in there somewhere.

You missed him, too.

When you arrive to the destination, Hyunjin gets out first and holds the door open.

“Thank you, Changbin,” you say on the way out.

“I’ll text you when we’re done.” Hyunjin says, leaning in the car to speak to Changbin.

“I’m going to bed. It’s a thirty-minute walk back. You’ll be fine.” Changbin replies.

Hyunjin huffs, shaking his head as he closes the door. “It’s hard to find good help these days.”

You nudge him playfully with your shoulder.

“An illusion museum?” you ask, reading the sign above the entrance.

Hyunjin grins. “Thought we could use a night of fun.”

[song: love untold]

Inside, the place is quiet—almost closing time—which means you have most of it to yourselves. The first room is a giant mirrored maze, and you’re both immediately separated, laughter echoing off the glass as you keep running into your own reflections.

“You good?” Hyunjin calls.

“No,” you say between laughs. “I’m fucking nauseous—there’s too many of us.”

Eventually, you find him again—his face breaking into a relieved smile. And for a second you just stand there, facing each other. Reflections of the two of you ripple across every surface, warped and multiplied. It’s a perfect representation for the situation you’re in—endless possibilities and outcomes.

He reaches out and your hands meet against the mirror first, to which you both chuckle. Then he finds the real you and laces his fingers through yours to pull you close.

“There you are.” He places a quick peck to your lips.

You bite your bottom lip to keep from smiling too widely.

“Next room,” you suggest, pulling away.

In the upside-down kitchen, Hyunjin jumps into character, pretending to stir invisible soup from the ceiling, and insists on snapping photos with the worst angles imaginable.

“You’re going to regret these,” you warn. But as you scroll back through them, he’s perfectly photogenic in every single one, regardless of the angle. “Your face is so unfair.”

“You can thank my mother.”

“Not your dad?”

“Maybe for my humor,” he shrugs.

At the forced perspective wall, you pretend to be a towering giant while he crouches small in the corner. “This is kinda how you make me feel on set,” he teases. “Tiny.”

You continue throughout the other rooms, your bodies like magnets. You drift apart for a while when exploring and taking pictures but come back to each other’s side right after. He holds your hand a few more times, steals a few more kisses. And after a while you stop acting like it annoys you.

When you’ve gone through all the exhibits, he thanks the employee for letting you stick around after closing and you exit.

“Convenience store run?” he suggests when you’re outside.

You hesitate. This would be a good time to call it a night. That would be the wise and responsible choice. But you did just have fun with him, doing something completely normal and nothing like the NC-17, perhaps XXX, content that’s been plaguing your mind.

And yet, you don’t feel like you’ve had enough time with him.

You still want more.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling.

You walk in the direction of the hotel and stop at the first convenience store. The inside is fluorescent and freezing. You each grab a green basket at the entrance and start down the aisles like it’s a timed competition. Hyunjin tosses in triangle kimbaps, banana milks, and a pack of shrimp chips without hesitation. You, more thoughtfully, grab ramyeon, a bar of dark chocolate, and two bottles of water.

You both come to a stop at the wall filled with a wide array of gummy snacks.

“You’re going for sweet and spicy,” he observes, peeking into your basket. “Classic.”

“You’re going for chaos,” you reply, eyeing the random snack combo he’s put together. “Is this your usual dinner?”

He shrugs. “Tonight’s my last cheat night. I’ll be hitting the gym every day now until the shirtless scene.”

You gulp.

Hyunjin shirtless is the last thing you should be picturing about right now.

Your eyes travel to his chest of their own accord, but you quickly avert your attention to the gummies on the shelf and grab a peach pack.

You don’t even like that flavor.

“Do you want to make the ramyeon here and eat outside?” you ask.

“Is there another option?”

“We could go back to the hotel…” you trail off, letting the offer linger in the air.

“To our separate rooms?” he tilts his head to the side.

“Depends if you know how to cook without burning down the place,” you tease. “…but we could go to my room.”

“You okay with that?”

You shrug. You’ve done well keeping yourself in check so far. You can handle this.

Maybe.

He pays for your haul and you resume the twenty-minute walk back to the hotel. It’s mostly a silent trek, and you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. He knows this is a bad idea too, doesn’t he?

On the elevator ride up, you’re racking your brain for the state you left it in. You’ve made a conscious effort to keep it relatively clean and if anything is out of place, he doesn’t comment on it when you enter.

You advise him to sit at the table while you take the bags into the kitchen, but he doesn’t listen. He’s at your side, opening cabinets and drawers, taking out cooking utensils and seasonings.

“Please, you’re a guest.”

“Fine.” He says, after taking out a pair of bowls and setting them next to the stove.

“Get comfortable—you can take off your disguise,” you tell him.

He pushes off his hood and removes his hat before sitting on one of the barstools across from where you’re prepping.

Your hotel smells like garlic within minutes. You’re stirring a pot of noodles, vaguely aware of Hyunjin looking more at you than the food.

“You actually know what you’re doing,” he says.

“Shocking, I know.” You toss him a playful look over your shoulder. “I feed myself like a grown-up.”

“You’re ruining my image of you.”

“And what was that?”

He grins. “Someone who survives entirely off iced americanos and anxiety.”

You snort, putting the noodles into the bowls and sliding one in front of him. “You’ve got me mixed up with Han.

“That’s actually pretty accurate,” he laughs, picking up his chopsticks to take a bite. He blows on the noodles before slurping them up. The look on his face giving away just how hot they are. “This is really good,” he manages to get out.

“You sound surprised…again.”

“I am surprised. You’re hiding all these domestic skills.”

“Guess we’re both full of secrets.”

The clink of chopsticks against ceramic takes over for a moment as you both eat.

“I like this,” he says eventually.

“What?”

“Hanging out with you.”

There’s that openness again—the thing that sneaks up on you when he stops trying to be amusing, or charming, or anything else.

You opt not to respond verbally, nodding your head instead.

He offers you the last bite of his triangle kimbap, and you shake your head, but he leans forward anyway, holding it out.

You sigh at the weight of this gesture. You can deny your feelings all you want, but he doesn’t seem to have any intention of doing the same. You take the offered bite from his hand.

When you’ve both finished eating, Hyunjin insists on washing the dishes, not accepting your rebuttal that he’s a guest. So, you sit sideways on the couch and watch him work, making small talk. He tells you he has a few more projects coming up after this to finish out the rest of the year and won’t have a real break until December. You finally tell him about your conversation with Chan.

“KBS?” he repeats. “No shit?”

You nod.

“Are you going to do it?”

“My agent thinks I should. But I don’t know if it’s the right career move…”

He’s silent for a moment as he continues scrubbing at the dishes.

“Do you want my input?”

You don’t know when it was that you came to rely on his guidance, but you’ve stopped questioning what he tells you career-wise as anything other than helpful. He always seems to put you first, more so even than your agency.

“Please.”

“I think you should take it. Chan’s right about that—it’s a great opportunity. It will be good publicity for our show, but it also gives the general public a chance to fall in love with you,” he says, and your brain gets stuck on how those last four words sound falling from his lips. “All it takes is one high ranking exec’s teenage kid to start blabbering about how great you are, and they’ll be calling you up with more work.”

He dries his hands and comes to sit on the couch, his right thigh just near your feet.

“You think so?”

“I know so. I understand what you’re up against, but you’re really kind of amazing and I don’t think you see that the way everyone else does.”

“Situations like that interview tend have a longer lasting impression than anything positive,” you say.

“Fuck that guy.” He repeats his sentiments from a few days ago. “It’s easy to let the negativity cling to you in this industry. You can’t let it.”

You nod.

He glances around the room before turning to you with a smirk. “Alright, you’ve seen my art, my hidden passion. Where’s yours?”

“I don’t have a penthouse suite, so I packed light,” you tell him.

“Pity,” he clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

You smack him on the arm.

“There’s gotta be something you come home to unwind to.”

“I really didn’t bring anything,” you shrug. “I do have a Lego collection of landmarks from around the world at home. My dad is in the army, and he’d get me one of every place he was stationed, and I’ve just kept up with it on my own.”

“That’s nerdy. But cute.”

“Don’t make me hurt you, Hyunjin.”

He smirks. “I could be into that.”

You offer a small chuckle to brush it off.

He lifts your legs from beside him and drapes them across his lap, his hands resting on top. He doesn’t touch you beyond that, doesn’t bring you closer. He just looks—at your face, your mouth, your eyes—and suddenly, it’s quieter than it should be.

You speak first, wanting to lighten the air. “Do you always stare at people like this?”

“Only when I’m trying not to do something stupid,” he murmurs.

You swallow, looking down at his hands, unsure whether you should pull your legs away, or move yourself closer.

“Tell me not to,” he says. “And I won’t.”

You must stay silent for too long. Because without warning, his hands grab your hips, sliding you toward him until the back of your thighs are pressed against him. Your pulse quickens at the sudden movement—the closeness.

You look up, meeting his gaze. “We shouldn’t.”

His eyes drop to your mouth again, lingering there for a moment.

“Is that a no?”

You know you shouldn’t. He knows you shouldn’t. And yet, you shake your head anyways, and he leans in slowly, giving you time to move or change your mind.

But you don’t.

When his lips meet yours, it’s gentle at first. His body is tense, like he’s still holding back. But when you wrap your arms around his neck, hands caressing his head, you feel the change in him. He really kisses you then. No hesitation. His mouth claims yours, tongue slipping between your lips like he owns you already.

You’re both aching with everything unspoken—the stolen glances, the unfinished thoughts, the pent-up energy and tension from filming and rehearsing. But you can’t shake how good it feels to be connected to him like this. And you still want more.

You break the kiss, resting your forehead against his as you both catch your breath. You pull away, leaning back until you’re lying flat on the couch. You keep your eyes on him, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer. He readjusts you, then himself before settling on top of you, fitting between your legs as if he belongs there.

He kisses you again and when you arch your back, pressing your chest into him, his hands snap to your sides like he needs to hold you still or he’ll lose control.

“Take it easy,” he warns against your lips.

Was he intending only to kiss? Perhaps that would be okay…

But the heat between your thighs says that it’s not.

So, you nip at his bottom lip and rock your hips up, slow and purposeful. He groans as a small gasp escapes you, feeling the pressure of his cock through his jeans, right where you need it.

He drags his mouth down to your jaw, then lower. His teeth graze your skin, and you tilt your head to give him more access. You slip your fingers beneath his shirt, nails lightly gliding across bare skin. He shivers.

He leans back just enough to look at you, cheeks flushed.

“What about thinking? And not letting the moment get the best of you?”

You never thought you’d curse a man for actually remembering the things you say.

[song: railway]

“This doesn’t feel like just a moment,” you softly admit. “And…I want to.”

You roll your hips again. This time he grabs them tight, grinding down into you with a low groan.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Maybe just this once?” you try to roll your hips again but his grip on you is too tight.

“To get it out of our system?”

“And then back to professional?”

Neither of you answer a single question asked.

Then, his hands leave your hips and in seconds, his shirt is gone.

You stare. His torso is lean and defined—not gym obsessed perfection, but real. Beautiful. His eyes scan your face as he reaches for your shirt. You sit up a little and raise your arms.

Your bra comes off next. You unhook it yourself, letting the straps fall, feeling shy as his gaze roves over you like he’s never seen tits before. He covers you, bodies flush now, every inch of you ignited. His mouth crashes against yours, hungrier, rougher.

Your heart is fluttering and racing all at once. It’s overwhelming, how much you want him—how long you’ve been trying not to. And he’s kissing you like he needs this just as badly as you do.

You’re both too far gone now.

He groans when your hand slips beneath the waistband of his jeans. You cup his cock over his briefs and squeeze gently.

“Take your pants off,” you whisper.

He lets out a sharp breath and sits up, shoving his jeans down, boxers still on but strained against his cock. You push your jeans down, too, kicking them out of the way.

He stays upright on the couch, pulling you into his lap this time, your thighs straddling his. His fingers skim your waist, dragging fire along your skin. His gaze drops between your legs.

“Red tonight, huh?” he comments, to which you chuckle.

He kisses your breasts, alternating between taking one in his mouth and circling his thumb around the other, gentle at first, then firmer when your hips grind against him. The little fabric still separating you is such a fucking tease, but the added friction feels good.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans.

You grind your hips again.

“It shouldn’t feel this good, right?”

“It really fucking shouldn’t.” He agrees, leaning back on the couch to just watch you please yourself.

All you can focus on is the way rubbing your pussy on his cock feels and the way he’s looking at you like you’re something sacred and sinful all at once.

He reaches down, his finger slipping between the thin material of your underwear to pull them to the side, leaving nothing between your clit and his boxers.

“Look how fucking wet you are already,” he says, as you start moaning.

But you don’t need to look. You can feel it. You can hear it.

And you want his boxers out of the way too, now. You still need more. You grind harder, locking your fingers behind his neck.

He pulls you to him, kissing a path up your chest, then your throat, nipping lightly beneath your jaw.

“Hold on to me.”

He grabs your hips suddenly and lifts you. You lock your legs around his waist, lacing his neck and shoulders with kisses as he walks down the hall to the bedroom.

This. This is what you envisioned when rehearsing.

It felt wrong to imagine it then.

But it doesn’t feel wrong right now.

The only light entering the bedroom is what drifts in from the window.

He lightly tosses you onto the bed and you move back to make room for him. You expect him to lie on top of you again, but he has other plans. He lays down flat on the bed, one hand slips up and over your thigh to grip it. With the other, he strokes a finger up and down your pussy, over your underwear, teasing you.

“Hyunjin—just take them off.”

“You want to feel my fingers on your pussy, jagiya?”

Fuck. Double fuck. Those words.

You nod, your hips circling against his finger. Your clit is pounding—begging for more.

“So fucking wet,” he murmurs.

“Hyunjin,” you plead. “Please.”

He smirks up at you before pulling your underwear to the side, planting his mouth right where you want it.

You moan, your head falls to the side, eyes shut. You were half-expecting delicate, teasing licks but his tongue is relentless, sliding up and down, lapping you up. He draws out every sound, every buck of your hips.

When the pleasure threatens to unravel you, your fingers clutch at his shoulders, desperate to bring him back to you. He finally relents, rising to his knees with a heated look in his eyes. With one hand, he slides your underwear down your legs, tossing them aside, then pushes his boxers down to free his cock.

You let out a low exhale, licking your lips at the sight. He’s thicker than you imagined—not too girthy—and already glistening at the tip, making your thighs instinctively part wider.

He shifts closer, settling between your thighs, his cock hovering just above your dripping pussy. His fingers wrap around the base, and he drags the tip slowly up and down your slit, teasing you again with every pass until he pauses at your entrance, his gaze flicking up to meet yours—like he’s asking one last time if you’re sure.

You give a subtle nod. “Come here,” you whisper, hands reaching for him.

But he just smirks, shaking his head. “I have to see your face.”

You’re spread open beneath him, vulnerable and aching.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, and you feel the shift as his hips begin to slowly press forward.

He sinks deeper, inch by inch, and your mind begins to blur.

Finally.

“It’s perfect,” you breathe.

“Like a glove?” his grin is wicked.

You swat his chest. “I can’t stand you.”

Your laugh is cut short by a sharp gasp as he sinks into you fully.

This is what your body’s been screaming for in every moment you spent pretending you didn’t want him. You feel stretched, filled, split open in the best way.

You both groan.

He moves slowly at first, unhurried. You match his rhythm, legs locked around his waist, hips tilting upward, fingers roaming his chest—memorizing the way he feels above you, inside you.

He lowers his forehead to yours, your breaths mingling.

And really does feel perfect.

He presses a kiss to your lips before pulling back, hands gripping your thighs as he starts to thrust deeper, harder. Each stroke feels like he’s letting go of something he’s been holding on to for far too long. And maybe you are too.

“You feel so fucking good, y/n,” he declares, slowing his pace just enough to make you whine. Every slow push deeper knocks the air from your lungs; every draw back has you chasing for more. “So. Fucking. Good.”

He emphasizes each word with a thrust of his hips.

“Hyunnie,” you moan.

He chuckles softly at that, his hands sliding back to your legs to unhook them from his waist. He pulls out just enough to flip you onto your side, curling himself behind you. His arm slips beneath your head, cradling you close as he pushes back inside. You gasp at the new angle—the way it lets him reach deeper, the way his chest is pressed to your back, lips brushing against your ear.

“You like when I fuck you?” he whispers.

You nod, unable to form words.

“You thought about this when we were rehearsing too, didn’t you?”

You arch into him, threading your fingers through his on the mattress as he fucks you, unrelenting now.

“My cock in your pussy—tell me how much you wanted it.” His other hand slides to your breast, gripping, kneading the soft flesh.

“So fucking bad,” you admit, breath hitching.

“Me too. I wanted to know how tight you’d feel around my cock. How wet you’d be for me.”

His voice is far too close. Saying far too many filthy things. The sound of skin slapping skin is joined by his ragged exhales and your whispered pleas—to fuck you harder, to make you come.

“You going to come for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, thrusting back against him.

His hand leaves your breast to curl tightly around your waist, holding you right where he wants you.

“You’re mine now, jagi,” he says, voice low.

You cry out at the possessive growl in his tone.

“Hyunjin—I—I’m—”

“Let go,” he breathes. “With me. I got you.”

And you do—tumbling right over the edge, turning your face into the mattress to hide your cry. He follows soon after, groaning against your shoulder as he fills you.

And then…silence.

Except for your breaths. His chest still pressed to your back. His hand still tangled with yours.

It doesn’t feel real.

Not just the way he fucked you—like he couldn’t help himself, like he needed it—but the way he’s still holding you now.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and not just from the high you’re still coming down from. But because this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with him. Not like this.

But now that it has, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

“Fuck, I should have grabbed a towel,” you say, breaking the silence.

You feel the moment he starts to stir, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, and you hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. “We could shower.”

“We’ll mess up the sheets. I don’t want to explain that to the maid.”

“It’s fine.” He shifts slightly behind you. “We can make it to the bathroom like this.”

You snort, turning your head. “You’re not seriously trying to walk like this.”

“Why not?” He grins, wrapping his arm tighter around your waist. “Teamwork.”

It’s ridiculous. And yet, you let him guide you to the edge of the bed, both of you moving in clumsy tandem, still connected, stifling giggles like teenagers.

You’re bent forward, hands braced against the wall as you inch your way toward the bathroom and he’s behind you, smug and unbothered.

By the time you reach the bathroom, you’re both breathless from laughing, from the afterglow, from everything.

Somehow, it really is perfect. And so much more than a moment that got the best of you.

a/n: FUCKING FINALLY. i hope it was worth the wait 😊 i swear the scenes where i was listening to love untold would play out as the cutest music video ever. a fun date at a museum? convenience store run? ending with them taking the elevator up, and fading to black when they enter the hotel room. do you see the vision?? and if you hit play when railway is mentioned, the beat drops in right around when he's taking his shirt off, depending on reading speed of course. its *chefs kiss* and then the undressing bits would play out kinda slowed down ahhhhh! sorry that's the filmmaker in me blabbering, i love picturing how scenes would play out as a movie/show/video etc. anyways lol, i'm going to try doing a tagging list again. please comment here or on the master list for this fic if you'd like to be added. i tweaked some settings, so hoping tumblr stops maxing me out at five people??? ready to kms over ts (jk, im just dramatic, pls) tagging those that have been commenting faithfully, so don't even ask, you're already on it my loves.

@hwangjoanna / @hanniesbubuwife / @straycat420 / @tsunderelino / @dessianna1 / @akindaflora / @tirena1 / @krayzieestay / @ehstay

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rizzanon · 3 months ago

Note

Heyy how are you?

helloo!! using this ask to answer everyone who’s been asking for my wellbeing these past two weeks! i’ve been doing alright!!

ramadan this year was just a little more tiring that usual and i didn’t really have the motivation to go and answer my inbox these past few weeks so that would explain my inactivity lol 😅🥲 (so sorry for those who sent in asks 😭)

but that doesn’t mean i haven’t been thinking about undoing fate and batfam feb (if we can call it that still 💀 it’s almost april oh my days)

that being said, i officially won’t be back until april at best, it’s exam season again and i totally flopped my H2 chem paper (fucking hate organic chem so much)

i’ve already drafted all of the works i planned to post during batfam feb, but some are still not finished yet—i’m planning to multi drop them when i’m freed from the shackles of exams 😭😓

and undoing fate chapter 8 and 9 (yes 9 🙂‍↕️) will be dropping sometime in april (mid april latest)

so stay tuned!

that being said, incase you guys want to know what i’ve been doing (other than racking my brains for exams 💀), just click below the cut.

was super hyped for invincible season 3 and i loved every bit of it (rexsplode you will be missed dearly—it should have been immortal 💀) and i absolutely loved marks black and blue suit (we gotta love our graysons and their redheads 🥰🤗)

and because i kinda got back into my invincible hyperfixation, i can’t help but think of regressor! sister grayson—you’re a year younger than mark here(but technically i wouldn’t call this version a regressor, just someone who regressed once and used it to her full advantage) and have been exploiting my sideblog to test it out a bit… (these are privated lol)

got the motivation when i rewatched season two and remembered angstrom mentioning how in quite a few dimensions, debbie joined nolan and mark in their conquering, so take it that in her first life, she came from such a dimension, but when she regressed, she found herself in the current dimension that we know of… somewhat.

i completely understand if yall think this is probably more of an oc than a x reader type but yes this was kind of self-indulgent and still a wip lol

that being said, i also made some other platonic aus—if there is a batsis au, there must be a supersis au too! 🤭

probably won’t be a series, just some fluff works surrounding this au lol

and i’ve been delving into the actual comics for arrowfam and green lantern corp as well so i can’t help but imagine…

of course once again, this might be very self-indulgent and probably more of an oc than x reader, but i can’t get this idea out of my head until i write it all out 😓🫣 (incase you can’t tell all these ss are just snippets and i’ve written a lot more in my sideblog posts lol)

there’s still that one bruce wayne x childhood friend! reader slow burn fic that i have in my drafts that’s 90% done as well as another work i’m working on… so yes, i’ll most definitely be spoiling you guys in april 🤗🤫

ALSO THANK YOU FOR 2.5K FOLLOWERS WHATT that’s insane 😭🫶🫶

i think that’s mainly it 😅

i also got addicted to dc dark legions 😓💀

still learning the meta behind these but i didn’t expect myself to fall in so deep 😭

red hood is still one of my best characters (he should have been red but thank god he’s yellow, because he’s been carrying my team, along with mera lol)

hate the fact that my beloved nightwing is so hard to get though 😭 so yup, that’s about it! let me know what yall think about the few teasers i dropped lol)

#rizzanon #rizzanon updates #💌

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synamartia · 9 months ago

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“ Need A Hand … ? „

“ Let's make your thoughts a reality … „

synopsis ┊ ◜ For the weeks following your one-night stand, Alastor was beside himself with a desire still fairly new to him - his mind constantly occupied with thoughts of you and your shared evening. Night after night, he would watch you from the shadows, a familiar ache in the pits of his belly winding tighter and tighter as you tried to recreate the very same event in your mind's eye with your silicone toy. Eventually, having had enough of your failed attempts at self-gratification, Alastor takes pity on your tortured soul and decides to offer his assistance . . . ◞ wc ┊ ◜ 4,130 ◞ warnings ┊ ◜ Alastor x Reader ✧ Afab!Reader ✧ Non-sex repulsed Alastor ✧ No pronouns or Y/N used ✧ Explicit / 18+ Only / MDNI ✧ Sexual situations ✧ Slight Stalker!Alastor ✧ Shower masturbation (Reader) ✧ Mutual masturbation ✧ Vaginal fingering ✧ Tentacles ✧ Hand job ◞ notes ┊ ◜ Can't believe we're already two weeks down! Time sure does fly when you're having fun, huh? Go check out last week's work linked down below on the Coven's Kinktober 2024 masterlist, and don't forget to give some likes, a few reblogs, and a follow to my darling wives~! Heaven and hell knows they deserve it! And to all my Haunted fans: this was a scene I had planned out for Haunted, but decided to cut it after writing 4+ chapters of pure smut. I wanna try to focus on the plot real soon! But don't worry, there will be more sexy times in that series! So for now, enjoy this little snippet~! ◞ links ┊ ◜ syn's masterlist ✧ coven kinktober 2024 ◞

It was only supposed to be a one-night stand; a friend helping out another friend; a one-off occurrence contingent entirely upon your careless mistakes and Alastor's prowess as a deal-making sinner. Weeks had gone by, and you hadn't uttered a single word to one another about it, dancing around the subject almost as if you were afraid to speak of it. As if talking about it outside the safe confines of Alastor's bedroom would make the heated memories disappear and any unspoken thoughts or desires evaporate into thin air, along with the few scraps that remained of your now tattered business relationship and friendship.

But you still found your mind wandering back to that night, struggling to hide the way your cheeks would flush a bright red at the memories flooding your brain; how your voice would crack with both nervousness and excitement when speaking to him about an issue with the hotel or a resident; or how you would rub your thighs together for the smallest bit of friction when he would enter the room and flash you that wide grin of his, the knowledge of your endeavors dancing behind carmine irises.

And in the late hours of the night, after everyone in the hotel had long since gone to bed, you would desperately try to recreate your experience in your mind's eye as your fingers drew fast circles on your clit, your silicone toy plunging deeper and deeper into your needy cunt - Alastor's voice at the forefront of your mind, coaxing you closer and closer, just as he did back then. But you failed every single time; your imagination was simply not enough to get you there, your fingers and toy nothing but a cheap imitation.

It had become a nightly ritual of sorts; when it wasn't done properly, Alastor felt more restless than usual - unable to read more than a single paragraph of his favorite book or properly hunt the deer scampering through his bayou pocket dimension without it. At the end of the day, after all of Charlie's redemption exercises and your basic duties as an employee, you would immediately slink off to your room under the false pretense of exhaustion from a long day's work.

Although you were none the wiser, Alastor was never far behind, slipping into the shadows as you stripped yourself of the hotel's uniform the second you heard the lock on your door click into place. A rush of pride would wash over the Radio Demon when he noticed that you were wearing the new undergarments he'd gifted you, to replace the ones he'd made a mess of so many nights ago - followed by a sense of possession when he eyed the faint bruises and scratch marks on your thighs and breasts that had yet to fully heal.

Once completely nude, your discarded clothing laying in a heap at the foot of your bed, you would saunter off to the connected bathroom, turning the knobs of your shower until steam filled the small space, obscuring your view of anything more than five feet away. He'd listen quietly as you washed off the day's dirt and grime, the hot water relaxing your tense muscles and lulling you into a false sense of security and solitude, the now all too familiar scent of your shampoo wafting through the air and clouding his senses. And he would wait patiently for that tell-tale sigh; the same one you made when he touched you, signaling that his new favorite broadcast was about to start.

The steam was thick, making it so that your silhouette was all Alastor could see as you removed the detachable shower head from its hook, tracing the steel object down your front until you felt it against your heated core. Excitement coursed through his veins as he imagined the expressions you were making, hands gripping tight his microphone as his own muscles flexed beneath his now much too restricting clothes. Eventually, you would begin to moan quietly as the pleasure began to build, raising your leg high enough to rest your foot on the grab bar, using your free hand to spread your folds apart and turning the head until the warm water sprayed directly on your clit.

And when he caught a faint whisper of his name as it fell from your lips, he would sink his teeth into the inside of his cheek to keep himself silent. It was a grand symphony, the sounds you made, and the last thing Alastor wanted to do was interrupt such a beautiful performance before its crescendo and climactic end. He waited with bated breath as your moans rose in volume, your hips moving involuntarily as you chased that elusive high, but like so many nights before, it wasn't enough. Your body felt tense once more as you teetered on the edge of release, unable to push yourself off that cliff despite your intense desire for the freefall into ecstasy.

Soon, the pleasure died down, your orgasm eluding you once again and you eventually gave up on the shower head, a frustrated groan slipping from your throat as you moved to shut off the water. Alastor dissolved into the shadows just before you stepped out of the tub, reaching for a towel folded neatly on a nearby shelf and wrapping it around your body. Careful not to enter your line of vision, he manifested nearby and admired your skin, beads of water rolling down your body to be absorbed by the plush fabric wrapped around your torso and upper thighs, or the bath rug beneath your feet.

For a split second, Alastor had gotten distracted by a faint bite mark behind your left ear made by him during your escapades, and barely avoided being caught in the mirror when you wiped away the thick layer of steam and condensation blocking your view.

Blissfully unaware of your company, you went about your usual nighttime routine, starting with your dental hygiene, then your skin care, then your hair. By the time you finished gently raking your brush through your damp tangles, your skin had dried almost completely despite the humidity of the steamy bathroom, and you discarded your used towel in the hamper near the door as you reentered the main room of your suite. Your frustration was clear by your stiff movements as you made your way to your wardrobe for a fresh set of undergarments and pajamas.

He almost felt bad enough to end your nightly routine in that moment, to help you reach your end that you had been chasing after so desperately night after night. But the promise of an even greater, more illustrious second act in an already superlative performance helped him to steel his resolve and remain hidden from your eyes. And just as he had watched you do so many times before, you closed the doors after picking out something to sleep in and turned on the balls of your feet, walking over to the side of your bed and tossing the clothes on top of the duvet.

Alastor had memorized this scene, eyeing your naked form as you grazed one hand over your abdomen, letting it drift up to your left breast and cradling its weight, slender fingers pinching the sensitive bud between your thumb and forefinger. With a light tug followed by an experimental twist, you sighed as you squeezed the squishy mound, your other hand coming up to mirror its twin. Another sigh, followed by your eyes closing shut and your head lolling back, and then another frustrated groan after a few seconds of teasing your own nipples.

"I should just go to bed..." you would whisper to yourself, your hands dropping back down as you reached for your panties and slid them up your legs. He eyed the way the lace bit into your flesh where the elastic wasn't as stretchy, baring his teeth as he fought back the urge to reveal himself and tear the offensive fabric from your body. Then you reached for the oversized tshirt, pulling it over your head and slipping your arms through, pulling it down until it covered the panties hugging you close.

Alastor wasn't sure why you bothered with clothes - you would end up removing them later on during your efforts. But who was he to question the mind and the methods of an artist as talented as you?

You stood there for a few minutes, looking between your bed and the table beside it, contemplating if you should even make an attempt tonight. You were almost positive that you would fail, just as you had the night before, and the one before that. Maybe if you tried a visual aid, that might help?

With another groan, you didn't waste any more time thinking about it and turned to the night table by your bedside, reaching into the bottom drawer for the obscene toy that had worked wonders for your tense muscles and stressed mind before he ruined your vivid imagination. Tossing it onto the bed, you slid your panties back off before climbing onto the soft mattress, crawling to the center and lying flat on your back. Spreading your legs open, Alastor inhaled sharply when he saw the glistening sheen of your slicked hole, his fingertips overlapping the shaft of his microphone and digging into his palm.

You sighed again, placing one hand on your clothed breast and giving a gentle squeeze, trailing it downwards until you touched bare skin. Grabbing hold of your toy, silicone heavy in your hand, you lowered it to your aching cunt and rubbed the tip between your folds.

Alastor's brows furrowed together in confusion when he realized you had skipped a step, not teasing yourself with your fingers like you had so many nights before. You seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, which was odd but not entirely out of place for your behavior throughout the day. You skipped breakfast that morning, rushed through your work, barely ate any food during the communal dinner Charlie forced everyone to attend, and you had excused yourself much earlier than usual - now you were skipping steps in your nightly endeavors? Something was wrong. Perhaps he had waited too long to initiate a second encounter, and you were beginning to lose interest? Or perhaps you had fallen ill.

"Alastor..." you whispered, rubbing the length of your silicone toy against your clit for a moment or two, then lowered it until it was lined up with your entrance. Part of you wanted to give up before you even tried, knowing full well how this would end from past experience. Closing your eyes, you pushed the toy inside, wincing at the painful sting caused by the stretch, silently cursing yourself for not preparing before this step. But you thought, maybe switching it up might help in the long run, even if it was painful at first.

Alastor watched you from the shadowy corner of your dimly lit room, shamelessly palming himself through his slacks as you took your time in sliding the toy deeper into your aching heat. Part of him wanted to wait longer, to see how long it would take you to come to him, to ask for his assistance. But several weeks had already gone by, and he was beginning to lose what little sleep he was able to get just watching you try and fail over and over again. As much as he wanted to hold out, his impatience was getting the better of him.

"Need a hand?"

"H-huh-?!" you yelped, eyes shooting open and head snapping to your left at the sound of Alastor's static filtered voice. At first you thought you had imagined it, expecting there to be nothing there when you turned your head. "Oh my god!" you screeched when your eyes locked with Alastor's, your entire face turning a brighter shade of red than his hair. He was laying there on his side, head propped up on his elbow and eyes teasing, reveling in your scared reaction.

"Not even close, dear."

In a panic, you pulled the toy from your core and threw it to the side in an attempt to hide it, your legs slamming shut as you moved to sit up. But Alastor stopped you with a single hand to your chest, pressing you back down into the bed as he cradled his own with his free hand. "A-Alastor, what the hell are you-?!" you started, but he only pressed a single clawed digit to your lips, the corners of his mouth pulling up even further than usual. He waited until you were completely silent, then trailed his finger down your chin to your neck until he reached the collar of your t-shirt, tugging on the hem as his eyes traveled further south.

Humming to himself, Alastor looked back up at your face and raised a single brow at the confusion he saw in your eyes. Were you actually confused, or were you just pretending to be shy and embarrassed to get a rise out of him? "Let's not beat around the bush, darling. I know what you've been doing every night since our last encounter," Alastor told you, causing your face to flush an even brighter red, looking away from him as you fidgeted beneath his gaze. "I don't... how?" you asked, only to have him raise a brow at the question, as if he were asking you, 'really'?

Grinning wider, Alastor let his gaze travel back down along with his hand, slipping between your thighs effortlessly and grazing two fingers over your slick entrance. He didn't miss the gasp of surprise tumbling from your lips followed by that same delectable little sigh he'd come to enjoy so much - the same one that had him crossing his legs during Charlie's redemption exercises or pressing himself into the side of the island countertop to hide his growing arousal when you would taste test his dishes.

Dipping his fingers inside your quivering hole, Alastor gave a few shallow pumps before retracting his hand altogether, raising it up just enough for you to see your own slick glistening on his fingers. "Would you like me to help you?" he asked you as calmly as he could possibly manage, enunciating each word as he patiently waited for the consent he just knew you would give.

Releasing a shaky sigh, you didn't hesitate in making your decision, a rush of exhilaration you hadn't felt since the last time you were together coursing through your veins. "Yes," you whispered, staring at his face as something carnal took over, wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on you again, to have his lips pressed against yours, to feel the burning stretch of his cock inside your needy cunt as he pounded into you with reckless abandon.

"Very well, dear. But first," Alastor responded, letting his hand slide between your legs again. "My price."

Of course. You knew Alastor was going to want something in return, which was why you didn't go to him after your first week of struggling to reach orgasm - there was no telling what he would ask of you, and seeing as his motives for even being at the hotel in the first place were still very much so a mystery to everyone, you were being overly cautious. And then there was the whole deal-making sinner Overlord thing. But something else that was plaguing your mind: why did he have to say it like he was taking pointers from your resident porn star? "Okay, Angel. What do you want?" you asked, unable to resist teasing him a bit by emphasizing the name.

"Ha! Funny," Alastor said, and suddenly his hand was gone from between your legs and your cheeks were being squished together between his clawed digits as he gripped your chin tight. "I want you to tell me all the naughty little things you thought about each night while you were fucking yourself with that toy," he spat the last word, almost as if he were offended that you chose a piece of plastic over him. And for a while, he was - which is one of many reasons why he waited so long to initiate a second encounter. He wanted you to suffer the burning ache of a lost orgasm every time you decided to use that thing instead of coming to him and asking for his assistance.

Alastor wanted you to be completely dependent on him for your pleasure, and until you learned to swallow that silly little pride of yours, he had planned to let you suffer every single night - plagued by the blissful memories he'd given you, unable to recreate them no matter how hard you tried.

But oh, best laid plans and all that, right?

"S-seriously?" you squeaked, your face somehow becoming an even deeper crimson as Alastor stared into your eyes, face unchanging as he rubbed his index finger against your bottom lip. "Deadly," he responded, pupils changing to radio dials for a split second, pushing his finger past your lips and against your tongue to let you taste yourself. A black tendril out of your line-of-sight slithered between your legs, prodding at your wet entrance unexpectedly. "Ah! Huh-?!" you gasped, looking down between your legs at the sudden contact.

It was only a second, but it was enough to have him gripping your chin once more and forcing you to look back at his face. "You know better than to look away, my dear," he chided your simple mistake, pushing a second finger into your mouth and pressing both of them flat against your tongue. When the tendril pushed past the first ring of muscle into your dripping cunt, you whimpered around his fingers, sucking gently at your fluids that still coated them.

Fuck, he's barely touched you and you're already so much closer to an orgasm than you had ever gotten by yourself.

Reaching up to grab hold of his wrist, you pulled his fingers from your mouth so that you could speak. "Alastor..." you started, a soft moan interrupting your speech as the tentacle pushed deeper into your core, a squelching sound filling your ears as it pumped slowly, your juices coating its black surface.

"Tell me, did you think about me?" Alastor asked, urging you on as he moved to wrap his hand around your neck, squeezing gently when you nodded your head. "Yes," you admitted, your walls clenching around the tentacle when it began to pick up speed. He hummed at your response, his hand moving further south to the bottom hem of your shirt and sneaking under it. "Did you think about me touching you like... this?" he asked, his fingers pinching the hardened nub of your breast, making you inhale sharply at the pain followed by the pleasure of him kneading the soft mound.

"Yes," you answered, your moans progressively becoming louder as the tendril began to move with more force, now pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. "Y-yes, Alastor... I thought about you," you breathed, digging your fingers into the duvet you were laying on. "About the way your voice sounded when you would praise me," you continued, inching your mouth closer to his as he released your sensitive bud, pulling it from beneath your shirt entirely, much to your dismay.

"Is that all?" Alastor asked you, to which you shook your head no, taking a moment as you searched for the confidence to continue with this debauchery.

"I thought about... how your lips felt on mine, and your tongue on my skin," you whispered, hearing the sound of his belt buckle being undone, but you dare not look away as the pleasure began to build higher and higher with each pump of his black tendril.

"And...?" he urged you on, his own face inching closer to yours as he pushed his trousers and briefs down far enough to free his leaking cock from their confines.

"And I thought- ... fuck-! Hahhh..." you moaned, fighting the urge to look down as you felt his hand take hold of yours. You were so, so close! The last thing you wanted to do was irritate him in any way, potentially risking him edging you even further than you had edged yourself night after night. "... I thought about the way you fucked me with your hand, and your tongue," you moaned when you felt a second tendril bump against your clit, rubbing up and down on the sensitive little bud.

"Keep going," Alastor told you, guiding your hand to his hard length and wrapping your slender digits around it, urging you to pump him - slowly, at first. But as your pleasure built higher and higher, your moans becoming more frequent and louder in volume, he gradually gained speed, wanting to match the pace of the tendrils as they pushed in and out of your squelching cunt. The sounds you made were divine, so much more beautiful than the ones you made with that thing now laying on the floor, completely forgotten by you.

Faster and faster, they moved, and soon it became difficult for you to form a coherent thought, focused solely on the way the tentacle stretched you open wide and the other applied the most delicious amount of pressure to your throbbing clit. "I thought... I thought," you tried to speak, jaw falling slack as you were right on the cusp of release, your walls quivering and thighs shaking as the knot wound tighter and tighter in the pits of your belly. "... I-I thought... about your cock in me," you gasped, your hips rising from the bed just barely and grinding down against the tentacles involuntarily, desperate for that blissful release.

"Don't stop..." Alastor whispered as he lowered his head, his lips mere centimeters from yours as he began to buck into your hand, his own orgasm not far off as he forced you to tighten your grip on his aching cock. Taking a little initiative, you angled your wrist and pressed your thumb to his leaking slit, smearing his precum and using it as lube to pump his cock faster. With the way that he gasped and how his hips jerked forward, you knew he was close to his own release.

"I thought about how you..." you swallowed hard, it was becoming difficult to keep your thoughts straight, to follow his no-looking-away rule, to keep jerking your hand up and down his hardened length as your muscles contracted almost painfully the closer you got to your end. "I thought- ... oh fuck, I'm gonna cum, Alastor-!" you gasped, eyes barely open as you reached with your other hand to lace your fingers in his hair, nails raking over the backs of his ears.

"Say it! Say it, and I'll let you cum," Alastor promised, his breath hitching in his throat as his cock twitched painfully in your hand, a third tentacle joining the first inside your wet walls and pounding into you roughly now, coaxing you closer and closer. Your eyes began to water as you felt the first tether snap, signaling your end as you opened your mouth to do as he obliged.

"I thought about the way you filled me up, and how you made me yours," you said, arching your back as you inhaled deeply, pulling his head further down until your foreheads were pressed together. "A-and about how you made me cum on your cock, over and over aga- ahhn, fuuuck!" you cried when, finally, the coil snapped, and your release crashed over you, your walls clamping down on the tentacles and your vision going white.

"Marvelous..." Alastor praised you as his hips bucked wildly into your hand, his own wrapped around yours and forcing you to maintain your tight grip through your orgasm, chasing his own as you rode yours out. It wasn't long before he was spilling his seed all over your hand and duvet, some of it landing on your bare hip as his own stuttered through each spurt.

"Fuck, fuck..." you mumbled, trying to regain your senses as you tried to come down from your high. You couldn't make sense of the world around you yet, barely taking notice of the tentacles retracting from your pulsing heat and his body from your own. When your vision finally cleared, you looked around for Alastor, soon finding him sitting on his knees between your legs. One clawed hand was stroking his half hard cock until it stood at full attention again, the other pressing against your overly sensitive mound, drawing lazy circles into your clit and sending jolts of pain and pleasure through your whole body.

"Let's make your thoughts a reality, my dear..."

story ┊ ◜ synamartia ◞ header ┊ ◜ synamartia ◞ dividers ┊ ◜ kodaswrld ✧ strangergraphics ◞ summoning ┊ ◜ @hazelfoureyes ✧ @minkdelovely ✧ @sugoi-writes ✧ @fraugwinska ✧ @macabr3-barbi3 ◞

Please do not copy or repost as your own! Thank you!

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daydreamgoddess14 · 1 month ago

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The Reading Rooms

SORRY I'M LATE! These come around so fast each week 😅 I really need a better system! I haven't read nearly as much as usual this week, I've been away with work for 3 days so it's eaten into my routine a little and I feel super disorganised and erratic. Ahh well, we ball.

Always remember to heed the warnings posted by the individual authors. What I'm happy to read may not be what you're happy to read, so I take no responsibility if you find something you're not into.

And finally, Tumblr is a community. Reblog, gush like you've never gushed before - I promise you, the authors below will love it, and love you for it! We write because we love to, but we share our work because we love the community of it. If you read something you like, let the world know! 💕

The List

One of my mini-series The Menu well and truly exploded this week, I'm talking like 100 followers in just over a week exploded. It's insane and wonderful and I'm really so proud 🥰 By the time you see this, there will have been three chapters posted this week. It's all I've worked on! It means For Your Consideration has been a little neglected, but I'm going to be allll over that in the next few days! I'm also completely self-indulgently writing a little Chris Beck fic so look out for that!

Onto the reading...

Bucky Barnes

First up is The Trouble with Saturdays by wonderful @vunblr. The pining! The argument with John! The tracksuit! I am SQUEALING!

Fake it Til You Break My Heart by @angellily920 is off to a super start, I can't wait to read more!

Different, This Time by @marvelstoriesepic - I could literally recommend their entire Masterlist tbh. A genius! This is a Part 2 to In Too Deep, which I can't believe I forgot to reblog sooner. These are both EXTRAORDINARY. Heated, intimate, and breathtakingly beautiful.

Sharp Dressed Man by @navybrat817 - just... need. All of him. Forever. Perfection!

Flame and melody by @daxisyzz - beautiful, lyrical, magical. I adore this 💕

Pregnancy Scare by @maevedoodle was super sweet, I love everyone looking out for each other. God I'm such a sucker for found family!

DECLASSIFIED CHAPTER FOUR by @dreamwritesimagines. This fic is literally crack. I cannot get enough, I jump on every notification for crumbs and snippets. I never want this to end!

The Zipper by @mrsbarnesblog is insanely, ridiculously, gloriously hot and I need it injecting into my veins please and thank you.

Pinned Down by @lolab4t - Oooh I love sparring Bucky so much 🥵🥵 This was yummy!!!

Neighbourly Advice by @firingstars is a super cute series, I love the additional characters and the premise 💕

Jealous Bucky by @fanficgirl429 - I loved this so much. So sweet 😭

Best Gift by @societyfolklore - so beautiful and sweet, the absolute peak of domestic fluff. Adore 😘

Leaked by @leighlalouu - this was so good! Quick and sharp. Excellent!

Overheard by @alisonsfics - phewww, this was hot! I am not your strongest soldier, I would be tripping over myself to offer a hand 👀 I'm off to read your whole masterlist....

Wife Speak by @tallaennatargaryen - so cute, so domestic. I loved this so much, really funny - her game is strong!

John Walker (I know... I don't know, I just needed to read it, ok?!)

A black eye and two kisses by @swordgrace - the only John Walker fic I've read so far and ... kinda won't be the last?! This was chef's kiss!!

Happy reading my loves! 💕

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hailsatanacab · 9 months ago

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Happy Ghouls and Gangs DPxDC Bang event posting week!! Here's what I've been working on for the @dpxdcbigbang 🥰

Summary:

It’s a normal day for Alfred Pennyworth. He spends it taking care of the manor and watching over its inhabitants, just as he does every other day. It’s an exhausting, never-ending task, that he wouldn’t change for the world. But that night, he is confronted by a stranger in his rooms with a copy of every single soul-binding contract he’s signed for the protection of his family. The new Ghost King wants to update his terms and conditions.

Alfred POV, Ghost King Danny, with some Post-Vivisection goodness and only a little (a lot) of blood and gore and medical fun, but that's for later. Not for the squeamish, please check the tags!!

Snippet under the cut!

It’s a normal day for Alfred Pennyworth.

He wakes up early enough to be ready to greet Master Duke with breakfast when he shambles into the kitchen, he cleans, he greets the rest of the manor’s residents when they finally make it downstairs, he cleans, he goes down to the cave to rouse Master Tim from another sleepless night, he cleans.

It’s a quiet day, or as much as one can be when the place he calls home is filled with vigilantes.

He drops off Masters Damian, Tim, and Duke at school and uses the rest of the trip to pick up some groceries for dinner. Coq au vin tonight, he thinks, it’ll be perfect for the changing of the seasons. A mushroom and lentil substitute for Master Damian will do lovely.

The rest of the day is spent preparing the meal and doing a spot of gardening before it’s time for the school run again. He can’t help but smile fondly as he listens to them needle and tease each other, only stepping in when it starts to become too pointed.

Yes, it’s a normal day for Alfred Pennyworth. It’s at night when it all changes.

There’s a ghost waiting for him in his room.

A soft glow emanates from the creature’s vaguely transparent body and a crisp frost creeps slowly across the floor, sparkling in the darkness like diamonds.

“Mr. Pennyworth?” it says, the voice bouncing off the walls so that it sounds like hundreds of beings instead of one.

Fear squeezes at his heart and the air in the room turns dark and heavy, so that Alfred struggles to breathe. His mouth is dry, his head is swimming, and he’s not entirely sure if he’s going to survive the night.

#dpxdc #dpxdcbang2024 #ghost king danny #dpxdc crossover #dcxdp #there's also birthday celebrations and party games and presents!!!#and a clown!#(spoilers)#please enjoy!!! this has been in the works since like idk march or something and it was incredibly fun to write #with everyone - to be part of a bang for the first time #and HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS THE ART????#you are not prepared for the art to come #i'm keeping the artists a surprise for now but MY DUDES you are NOT PREPARED #because i certainly wasn't #oml they are so good holy shit wow #cannot oversell it enough #i'm super excited for all of it #genuinely really happy and also bricking myself at the same time #weirdly very anxious about this - moreso than normal posting at least #THANK YOU TO EVERYONE #the mods and the writers and the artists #you've all been wonderful #HAPPY BANG POSTING WEEK #AHAHAHHHHHHHH #i'm going to bed wherein which i will be too excited to sleep and i will simply roll around all night squirming haha #good night!

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seyaryminamoto · 4 months ago

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Fic-to-Art #50: Sokka, Azula, Zuko and Suki introduce their children to each other

A few days late here, though I did finish this on time last month... here's my artwork this time around! A cute scene with our favorite little kiddos meeting each other for the very first time <3 I, as usual, don't ever know character proportions when it comes to babies but I hope they're not completely off, haha. Little Hotaru is very impressed with her cousins, and Mari of course is hyped to meet a new baby. Zi is shy, clinging to her dad's leg, but she is curious about Hotaru too.

The idea that things could one day heal this much for all these dorks makes me very happy, more so because it's pretty much their reality in the story now. They've been through quite a lot and deserve to bask in every good moment. I hadn't drawn Suki in quite a while I think, and her hair was more fun to work with than I remembered. Hopefully it looks good for you guys too! I live for Sokka and Azula teaching their little girl how to walk, they're such a power unit as parents (as expected), so I wanted to portray that a little bit here, with each of them holding one of Hotaru's hands as she stands up on her own two little feet. Oh, these famillies are cuter than they have any right to be <3

Hope you guys liked it! If you'd like to be part of the creative process behind these pieces, a $1 pledge on Patreon will allow you to partake in suggesting and voting for prompts, as well as reading Gladiator snippets one week before a chapter releases!

#gladiator #sokkla #zuki #sokka #azula #zuko #suki #hotaru #mari #zi #so much blue but I hope that the important things are vivid enough #ngl doodling my girl smiling that way again is so nice TT_TT #she needs this so much #and of course Mr. Scary Blue Wolf does not look scary at all when he's being a dork dad #they give me all the feels <3 #fic-to-art project

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davrinsleftpectoral · 2 months ago

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A Word With Friends/Wip Wednesday

Thank you @jenn2d2 for the word of the week, and @hedwigoprah for making a tag game that makes me really stretch my brain muscles. Not gonna lie, this one hurt lol.

This week's word is Perspicacious

Definition:

Quick in noticing, understanding, or judging things accurately or of acute mental vision or discernment.

I took the easy way out this week. I won’t do it every week (probably). Also put it in this WIP of my Chuck E. Cheese AU. So enjoy a snippet of Welcome to Nug E Cheese. This is still part of the first chapter. If you’d like to read the beginning, you can find it here

Some people like to torture Lucanis with angst and feelings. I like to torture him with bad coffee and the horrors of a minimum wage job.

“Sorry, don’t mind me. I’m just gonna get old Joe going,” he explained.

“Good idea. I need some coffee after that meeting,’ Neve agreed.

Turvi approached old Joe. The machine was ancient. 15? 20? Years old. No one was really sure. They suspected it had been left behind by the original construction crew when then store was built. He took a deep breath and began The Routine.

“Good morning Old Joe,” he began.

Lucanis looked up from his papers and didn’t say anything, simply raised one eyebrow.

Neve smirked at him, “Trust the process. Old Joe likes Rook the best.”

Turvi then turned on the machine. Turned off the machine. Unplugged it, counted to 15, and plugged it back in. He filled the water reservoir, put in a new filter, and grabbed the budget sized can of store brand ground coffee. When Lucanis spotted the giant can, Turvi thought he heard a small sound of distress. Once the coffee was in, he closed the the lid and wrapped a big rubber band around it to keep it shut.

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Lucanis finally chimed in. “What is the rubber band for?”

Turvi grinned. “It’s like a seat belt, you gotta strap in, it’s for everyone’s safety.” Next he hit the start button, and after that he banged on the top 3 times. “You see Neve, the reason that Harding’s coffee isn’t as good, is that she only hits Joe twice because she feels bad. He needs 3 to really get going.”

Old joe wheezed and started to gurgle and bubble. “When you hear the wheeze, you know it’s going to be a good pot.” He turned around, hands on his hips with satisfaction, grinning at Neve. Lucanis didn’t say anything for a moment. The man’s eyebrows were furrowed deeply though.

Lucanis handed his completed paperwork over to Neve. She flipped through the pages, skimming over his writing. “Well, this looks good. I’ll go see if we have any spare polos in storage, but I’ll have to order you more. We weren’t expecting to get anyone new today,” Neve said by way of apology.

“If you can’t find one, he can wear mine,” Turvi offered. “I can just wear the Gus suit for the day, instead of switching in and out.”

Lucanis’ eyes widened, but he stayed silent. Neve must have clocked the face he made, because she chuckled. “Keep your clothes on Rook. He can wear his own shirt if we dont have one for him.”

Old Joe started beeping. Turvi stepped to the side and dramatically bowed and swept his arm out towards Neve. “Ladies first.”

Neve rolled her eyes at him as she got up to grab a mug. She poured the steaming liquid and made a little hum of displeasure. “Seems this batch is a little thick. Oh well. Better luck next time Rook.”

“Thick?” Lucanis squeaked, visibly paling. “And you guys actually drink that?” He asked incredulously, as Neve took a sip.

“Yes, very perspicacious of you,” Turvi replied.

Neve chuckled hand on hip, “Well look who’s putting that word of the day calendar in the break room to good use,” Neve said with a laugh.

“I try,” he confirmed with an answering smirk.

Turning to Lucanis she shrugged, “It tastes fine, and it does the job. We work in a Nug E Cheese. We can’t afford to be picky,” she shrugged. “Now let me go see about that shirt.”

The Routine is based on actual ancient food service machinery. Not the exact routine. But my sister works at an ice cream stand that has very very old machines. You do need to do weird stuff to make them work properly, and there is an actual rubber band holding parts together. Also there is way too much smirking going on. It’s still a wip okay?

Thank you @serensama for the tag. No pressure tagging @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @biowaredisasterbisexual @seaglassmelody @thedissonantverses @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai @woundedsoul12

#nug e cheese au #nug e cheese consumes my thoughts #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age veilguard #neve gallus #lucanis dellamorte #turvi #rook #a word with friends #wip wednesday

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karatekels · 5 months ago

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Fresh Start February #1

BOO!

I'm back, with some ~randomly scheduled~ little snippets of soft little Fresh Start Terry and reader! I know this is shorter than what I normally post, but... I figured this way I'd actually do it, y'know?

---

Reunion - Chapter 1

---

Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

Terry snaps to attention, snatching his phone off the desk and dismissing the alarm. He all but abandons his work on the computer without a second thought in favour of taking the familiar path from his home office to the master bedroom.

There is an extra spring to his step as he climbs the stairs to the third floor; it’s the last time this particular routine will be occupying his nights for the foreseeable future.

He has enjoyed his nightly phone calls with you for the past thirty-six nights, having adamantly refused to go a single day without hearing your voice. Not that you had needed much persuading on the matter; it was clear from the way that you fought yourself to stay awake every night that you’ve been just as desperate to talk to him. But – finally – tomorrow would come and put an end to his weeks of suffering.

Tomorrow you were coming home.

His thumb traces the familiar path across the phone screen to dial your number with the sort of tenderness he’d typically reserve for your body, lifting the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” you answer the phone, a tad breathless.

He sits at the foot of his bed, feeling the tension leaving his body at this single sound of your voice.

“Y/N,” he sighs your name into the phone by way of greeting.

“Terry!” you exclaim his name happily, your voice at a higher pitch than normal. What was going on?

“Is everything alright?” he asks hesitantly, afraid of the answer. You sound surprised by his call somehow, though you’d been a part of this routine for over a month now.

“Yes, Terry, sorry. I just lost track of time,” you apologize, and he doesn’t doubt the sincerity in your tone.

“No need to apologize, love. I’m sure you’re stressed about traveling tomorrow.”

He’s briefly distracted by a sudden incessant knocking at what he presumes is the front door, and frowns. He’d normally have received an alert that someone was being let through the gates, and at the very least one of the staff should’ve been there to address this night-time visitor.

Where the hell was everyone?

The volume of the knocking increases and he bites back a growl of frustration, rising from the bed to handle things himself. People were just asking to get fired tonight.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, what did you say?” he asks as he descends the stairs, realizing he hasn’t heard a word you’ve said in his preoccupied state.

“Please don’t be upset with me, Terry,” you beg. “I know I should’ve told you before canceling my flight.”

“What?!” he asks in shock, his voice nearly cracking. You had canceled your flight? You weren’t coming?

The incessant knocking reaches a fever pitch and he lets out a snarl before realizing how it may come across to you.

“Give me just a moment please, Y/N, and then we can talk about this,” he pleads with you. He couldn’t have you getting cold feet now, not after this, not after everything.

He wrenches the door open, fully prepared to lay into whoever was on the other side for their interruption. Someone had better be dying…

“I couldn’t wait,” you inform him, your voice echoing as he hears it from both his phone and your mouth from where you stand on his front doorstep.

---

It takes everything within you to keep from launching yourself at Terry the moment he opens the door. You manage to hang up the phone and drop it somewhat carelessly into the tote bag slung over your shoulder, your eyes never leaving his face. Terry is speechless, looking down at you with clear surprise. You bite your bottom lip, both to conceal your amusement at his shocked expression and your own anxieties. He wouldn’t be offended by you showing up unannounced, would he? Especially after weeks of conversations that revealed just how badly you were missing one another…

Between one blink and the next Terry has snatched you up, tugging you covetously across the threshold and into his arms, and you let out a sigh of relief against his shirt before greedily breathing him in. The shirt he had lent you had long since lost his scent, and you realize how much you’ve come to crave the presence of his cologne in the air.

“Y/N,” he breathes your name into your hair quietly, arms squeezing you so desperately it feels like he’s trying to force your body inside his own, and it only makes you feel like you’re home.

“I guess this means you aren’t bothered by me showing up a day early?” you ask jokingly, your voice muffled as you speak against his chest. You hear him exhale through his nose, exasperated by your mouth as always, before he relaxes his grip enough for you to peel your head away to look up at him.

“Never,” he answers fiercely, his blue eyes roaming every inch of you like he was trying to recommit you to memory. You understand the feeling, your hands moving almost of their own accord up his back before sliding down his arms to take his hands in your own, trying to relearn the feel of him.

“How did you get here?”

“I flew, then took an Uber,” you say, shrugging nonchalantly. “Economy class, too,” you chirp, grinning up at him as his nose wrinkles in distaste. He rolls his eyes at your attempts to goad him.

“I meant past the gates. Did you scale the walls, you little beast?”

“Of course not. I had someone on the inside,” you inform him with a conspiratorial wink. “Thanks, Victor!” you call out, waving at one of the security cameras.

The lens pointedly moves away from the two of you – whether to dismiss you or to avoid looking at your reunion any further, you aren’t sure. Terry turns from looking at the camera to gaze down at you with suspicion.

“How have you been contacting Victor?” he demands.

“I have my ways, Mr. Silver,” you offer mysteriously, biting back a giggle. You’re quite enjoying this moment of having taken Terry by surprise.

“Is that how you’ve been spending your time away? Turning my own men against me?”

“Do you really want to spend all night talking about Victor?” you tease, batting your eyelashes up at him. “I, for one, would appreciate a shower.”

Terry hisses, his gaze darkening as he tightens his grip on you. Well, it was good to know that his attraction to you hadn’t abated in your absence…

“I missed you, Terry. So much,” you confess, your heart physically aching as you think back to these past weeks without him.

And it’s that declaration, rather than your sudden appearance or flirty invitation to share his shower that has Terry scooping you up into his arms and pressing you back against the wall next to the front door, his mouth seeking out your own to capture your lips in a kiss that sets your whole body on fire. You do your best to cling to him, locking your hands together behind his neck while your legs fight against your weak knees to wrap around him, your heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s in your chest.

“Y/N,” he sighs your name into your mouth, “My Y/N.”

Terry’s entire being seems to relax now that he’s got you in his clutches, even as he continues to hold you up against him, your lips never parting. You squeeze yourself around his massive form as best you can, needing to be closer to him and feeling him clinging to you just as desperately, his grip on you teetering on the edge of being painful in the best way.

“Let’s see about getting you cleaned up,” he murmurs softly before whisking you away, still in his embrace.

---

“I had plans for tomorrow, you know,” Terry informs you breathlessly between kisses.

“I’m sure,” you hum in appeasement, your fingers joining the steamy spray of water in its path down Terry’s firm chest. You resist the urge to lap up the droplets clinging to his skin.

“Flowers when I met you at the airport, champagne on the plane,” he offers, his large hands running up and down your sides firmly but gently as he traces your curves with reverence.

Your feet hadn’t touched the floor of the house until he’d set you down in the shower.

“Sounds lovely,” you sigh, half at the thoughtfulness of these gestures and half in exasperation. Terry didn’t truly think you needed any of that, did he?

“A limo to pick us up from the airport, and a romantic candlelit dinner here.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” you remind him, your hands sliding down and around his body to give his ass a firm squeeze. You need him here with you now, not dwelling on what could have been.

“Everyone was meant to be gone when you got here.”

That has you pausing in your ogling of Terry’s body. The ever-present staff had been the subject of lighthearted debates between the two of you during your time apart, with Terry ultimately concluding that you were just self-conscious about others hearing the noises that he intended to pull out of you.

It wasn’t an entirely inaccurate conclusion, but it is one you’ve been trying to mentally prepare for during your time apart.

“I appreciate the thought, Terry,” you offer sincerely, smiling up at him before allowing your lips to twist into a far more mischievous grin.

“I suppose we’ll just have to give them a reminder as to why we’re going to be sending them away.”

Rather than being stunned speechless the way that you’d anticipated, all Terry does it let out a low, sinful chuckle.

“You, Madam,” he murmurs, staring down at you like you were something to eat, “have just ensured a long night for yourself.”

He abruptly leaves the shower without another word, sealing you back inside and leaving you to watch him towel off through the foggy glass panes.

“Terry? Where are you going?” you call, already feeling the loss of his presence.

“Relax, sweet thing. Take your time. I just have to get a few things ready for you…”

---

You force yourself to stay under the hot spray of the shower, trying to relax your tense muscles. You aren’t sure what exactly Terry is planning, but you imagine it’s going to take him a few minutes. Finally, you can’t bring yourself to draw things out anymore, needing to seek out Terry’s embrace once more.

Upon toweling off, you realize he has taken your clothes with him, leaving you with nothing to change into. Your lips quirk into a smile at his antics, and you secure the towel around yourself, moving to leave the bathroom.

The door is locked.

You try the knob again, pushing and pulling the door to no avail. You call for Terry but hear nothing on the other side of the door except for what you suspect is a low, muffled chuckle. Scowling, you snatch your phone off the bathroom counter:

You scowl, grumpy that your plan to surprise Terry and take control of the evening had been so easily usurped. Huffing, you reply, your thumbs tapping the screen with more force than necessary:

You frown down at your phone, feeling butterflies in your stomach despite yourself. Put what on?

You quickly retrieve a sleek black and pink box from beneath the sink, lifting the lid with anticipation, your fingers trembling as you brush the tissue paper aside. As soon as you see the contents of the box, you yank your hands away, leaving the box on the counter. Utterly frazzled, you frantically unlock your phone again.

---

Brad Pitt voice: WHAT'S IN THE BOX??

Updates to the story: Chapter 2!

Fresh Start... starts here! Other chapters, sequels, and stories linked on my Masterlist!

Support my unhinged smut here!

#thomas ian griffith #terry silver #cobra kai #terry silver x reader #fresh start #fresh start february #is karatekels actually writing again?#she's doing her best

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avida-heidia-5 · 7 months ago

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Welcome to Marchtian 2025!!!

This is a brand new prompt fic and art event centred around one of the most famous teammates in Formula 1 history: The little German twink Sebastian Vettel and Aussie Grit's Mark Webber! They are also known in the F1 RPF community by their pairing names: Martian and Sebmark!

There are 31 prompts to choose from, one for each day in March. You can interpret these prompts however you like: You can have Mark and Seb as best friends, best enemies, or as a romantic/married couple, and you can put them in any situation you like (AU or canon compliant); the choice is yours!

Here’s the full list:

All creators are welcome to participate in the event: Writers, artists, GIF makers, collage creators, animators; you name it! When you’re ready to publish, remember to tag us by using the hashtag #Marchtian 2025 and/or post your work to the AO3 collection, which can be found here! Make sure to tag your works appropriately before you publish.

NEW DEADLINE UPDATE!!! < Click the link for more info!

FAQ TIME!

Q: Do I have to do every single prompt?

A: Nope! You can choose as many as you like! Any or all prompts; it’s completely up to you! And you can interpret these prompts however you like.

Q: Do Seb and Mark have to be the main characters?

A: Yes. You can include other characters and ships if you want, but the primary focus MUST be on Seb and Mark.

Q: Can I write about/do art for characters from other racing categories such as the junior Formula series and other motorsports series such as Moto GP, ROC, WRC, and Le Mans?

A: Yes, as long as the main focus is on Seb and Mark.

Q: What about sports that don’t involve motor vehicles such as tennis and hockey?

A: The same rules apply!

Q: Do I have to sign up to join?

A: No sign-up form is required to join.

Q: Are we allowed to share snippets of our work on sites such as Tumblr?

A: Yes! You're allowed to share snippets, just make sure you choose ones that don't reveal too much of the story/stories or artwork you're working on.

Q: What's the minimum word count for fics?

A: That’s completely up to you! There’s no limit on how long or short you want your fic(s) to be.

Q: Can my fic have multiple chapters?

A: No. Oneshots only, please! However, if you’re thinking of writing a standalone sequel to an existing fic, then that’s allowed.

Q: What kind of art is allowed?

A: Absolutely anything you like: Traditional pen/pencil on paper, paintings, collages, manips, GIFs, animations… any kind of art is allowed!

Q: Are Explicit works allowed?

A: Yes! All works, from General to Teens to Mature and Explicit, are allowed, as long as they are properly tagged.

If you have any more questions or concerns, don’t be afraid to send me an ask. 💙

I will reblog this post a month, a week, and then a day before the 1st March as a reminder, which is when the event officially begins.

Have fun!!! 🇩🇪💙🇦🇺

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inonibird · 2 months ago

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Sahuldeem Spin-off Snippet #4

Hey, remember how I posted three previous snippets because writing has been hard this year and I felt like sharing excerpts from the various unfinished Sahuldeem spin-off stories I've poked at over the past few years? (I am STILL working on the newest chapter of Sahuldeem; it has just been ludicrously hard to get into it) This next spin-off fic can best be described as: "A story centered around Qymaen’s Force-sensitive granddaughter, set after the Original Trilogy." Treated as a sequel to Sahuldeem, but Force-related shenanigans mean it is less grounded in canon/reality. A bit of a self-indulgent, adventurous romp with some family drama mixed in. (Ludari herself is a re-imagined version of an old ttrpg character)

This short snippet is set near the beginning, as Ludari learns more about the elder-father no one seems to want to talk about. Enjoy~

A few days later, Ludari’s father came into her room, and, instead of wishing her good night and departing as usual, he settled on the edge of her bed, heaving a weighty sigh.

“There’s little I can tell you about your elder-father that I know outside of stories, myself. I never met him. He left Kalee before I was birthed.”

“But elder-mother told you stories,” Ludari said, sitting up straight in bed, every fiber of her body hungry for whatever scraps her father might spare. “She knew him.”

Ludari’s father was quiet for a moment. “Why do you want to hear about him, Ludari?”

“The other children told me he wasn’t always like that.”

“Wasn’t always like…”

“A monster.”

Her father’s face stilled, his slitted eyes falling out of focus, as if picturing something he barely remembered. “You don’t know what he looked like, do you?”

Ludari shook her head. “They just told me he was barely even Kaleesh anymore. More like a droid.”

“Hold on.” Her father rose from her bed and slipped out of the room for a minute. When he returned, he held a portable holoscreen in hand, a cracked, outdated piece of technology that was the norm for backwater Kalee. Settling back into position, he passed the screen to his daughter. “These are old recordings from the HoloNet. They would have aired during the time of the Clone Wars. I was far too young to know anything about it, then. Mother showed these to me years later.”

Ludari squinted at the flickering screen, watching the decades-old HoloNet News broadcasts. Reporters spoke in urgent staccato of the “Knight Slayer” that had come to the attention of the Galactic Republic in recent weeks, and who had, at the time of the newsreel, finally been recorded in action. The footage was grainy and blurred, but amid the white armored figures of clone troopers, a skeletal shape rampaged, a storm of blue-and-green lights that snapped and sliced and severed. The footage paused, highlighting a frame of frozen fury: more metal than flesh, poised mid-assault, what passed for a face pointing up to glare at some unseen aerial intrusion.

The quality of the recording was too low to see much detail, but Ludari merely had to close her eyes to know what every fuzzy pixel had failed to display. She could see her elder-father like he stood right before her, hunched yet looming, taller than any Kaleesh she’d ever met; she could hear the strain of metallic joints and wheezing, labored breaths; she could smell the residue of blaster fire on scorched armorplast, the stink of old blood of felled enemies, and something sour and rancid buried beneath it all. Livid eyes glared back, glinting gold from deep, orbital sockets

“Ludari?” Her father placed a concerned hand on her arm. “Are you all right?”

Ludari peeled her eyes open. “He has a kakmusme,” she observed, and even as she blurted this, she wasn’t sure why that had caught her notice and demanded mention, of all things.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have shown this to you before bed.”

“I’m not scared.” But she was shaking. She couldn’t seem to stop, even when her father moved both hands to her shoulders for a comforting squeeze.

“I’m sorry. I should have known better. Everyone calls him a monster for a reason. The galaxy feared him for a reason.” Her father peered into her eyes, worried. “Do you know what he looked like when he was still Kaleesh? When he was still whole?”

Ludari shook her head again, but her brow creased as something occurred to her. “Like you?”

Her father blinked, then offered a small smile. “Yes, in fact. Your elder-mother has always said so. The village used to have a statue of him in the square, but it was torn down after the stories of the Clone Wars reached Kalee. I barely remember seeing it. He probably even looked a little like you, too, at your age. Wouldn’t have gotten his chin tusks, yet.”

“What was he like at my age?” Ludari asked, desperate for something to distract her from the possibility that, when she closed her eyes for the night, she would dream of a hulking, metallic skeleton cutting off limbs and crushing skulls with powerful claws—or, worse, that the almost palpable vision that had creaked and wheezed and glared at her from behind her eyelids would stand by her bed and watch her sleep.

“Hm. Well, my mother didn’t know him when he was your age, so what she told me was based on stories. But she said he knew how to use an Outland rifle when he was eight years old. Just two years younger than you.”

Ludari gaped. “Eight? You won’t even let me look at your rifle!”

He received a wry, arched eyebrow at that. “And you will learn when you are twelve. No weapons until then. That is tradition. Your elder-father lived in a time of planetary war; the children then needed to learn early, to grow up too quickly. But it’s said that because of him our family teaches all of our children how to shoot and hunt, no matter how many tusks they have.”

Ludari tried to picture herself, at her size, holding a slugthrower rifle. It was difficult. “He fought in a war when he was only eight years old?”

“The Huk War,” his father clarified. “Around 70 years ago. The Huk invaded and tore families apart—slaughtering our warriors, taking our women and children away to sell as slaves. When your elder-father was your age, it was said he protected Irikuum with his rifle. He would destroy entire raiding parties of more than a dozen Huk by himself, he was such a skilled shot.”

Ludari hung onto his every word. The tangle in her chest, which had wound painfully tight at the sight of the old newsreel and the frightening vision of what her elder-father had become, started to unravel and relax. “He sounds brave.”

“I’m sure he was, back then.” Ludari’s father put a hand in his daughter’s hair, giving her curls a gentle tousle. “Feeling better?”

“Will you tell me another story about him tomorrow night? About when he was still honorable?”

His father’s breath caught in his throat a moment, sucked in and held during a brief, silently painful contemplation. “Yes, little Ludari. I’ll tell you more.”

When her father left the room, taking the holoscreen and turning out the light, Ludari sat up in bed, closed herself off from the outer world, and meditated. The Feeling returned to her and seemed to revel in her success, feeding into her a warm, lulling peace that pervaded her body from her core to her fingertips and toes. All she had to do was think about a boy with his slugthrower, lying in the grass under a hot sun, holding his breath as he aimed at a wooden target a hundred meters away.

#Inoni Writes #Sahuldeem #Star Wars #Ludari jai Namtarra #Jai Clan #Kaleesh #General Grievous #Qymaen jai Sheelal #fanfic #definitely a longer story #but a nifty one #and I've been poking at it for the longest #fun fact: Ludari was originally a male/older teenager #but when writing I realized it felt like rehashing Qy's stuff #so I made the swap and it feels much more interesting

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steddieunderdogfics · 4 months ago

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @toedenandbackagain! ToEdenandBackAgain has 7 fics posted to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @toedenandbackagain:

hold me now, i need relief

hot (sticky, sweet)

sweet to taste (saccharine)

A Sign of The Morning

seasons change (so do we)

"Her fanfics are what got me into Steddie and Stranger Things and for that I am eternally grateful for that. (Also thank you again for reposting your fanfics back on AO3!!!)" -- anonymous

Below the cut, @toedenandbackagain answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

The urge to write Steddie really took me by surprise if I’m honest. I watched the first half of Season 4 (the superior half, imho), and something about Eddie’s character made me feel like he had way more to offer than what he was being given in canon. So when he and Steve started making eyes at one another, I was immediately on board.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love reading enemies to lovers, or enemies to friends to lovers. I love a slow burn like nothing else, the slower the better. I think there's so much opportunity in building a relationship within a fic, especially one that was originally not friendly.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I love writing “long term pining” type fics. Especially of the “they're both in love with one another and neither realize it” variety. There's so much to explore in that sort of story and I love making the characters suffer just a little.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This question keeps me up at night because I love so many aspects of so many Steddie stories, which is such a cop out of an answer, I know 😂 I think that a Steddie story that has forever stuck with me was “Looks Like You're Hungry, Looks Like You're Drowning” by Capriciously_Terminal. Something about it just lingers, it was beautifully written. “Are You Flagging?” By soidade (my beloved) is also a forever favourite, it was the fic I was obsessively reading in my car before work. And during work. And at home.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I would love to explore time loops in a fic but I am just so overwhelmed with how to start. It was originally The Lathe by palm violet that sparked that urge and I've never been able to shake it.

What is your writing process like?

I keep a log of every fic idea I ever come up with, even if it is just a handful of sentences or a quick snippet. Specific pairing ideas get grouped together, but as I'm writing I will usually come back to my Google doc of doom and scroll through to see if anything jumps out at me that could work with what I'm currently writing. I try to start with at least a rough structure of events before going in with the details, and I like to know vaguely how I intend for something to end before I even start writing. From there, I just go. I find writing in chronological order very difficult, so I like to write big scenes first, and fill in the gaps. I also love useless tidbits, little character quirks that go nowhere and mean nothing in the grand scheme of things but round out who I'm writing about and what their bigger picture story is outside of the story I'm telling.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I love to write on my phone. I know it isn’t for everyone, but I find some of my best writing work gets done when I’m hunched over my phone in the weirdest spots. Entire chapters of A Sign of the Morning were written in various office waiting rooms, on public transit, or from my work lunchroom.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I want to say posting when I’ve finished, but considering I wrote A Sign of the Morning in 12 days, and updated every day the exact moment I finished the chapter (no beta, no proofread, please forgive any and all absolutely horrific mistakes of that fic, they haunt me), I know that’s not the truth. I love sharing my stories, and I am always wanting to immediately put it out there for people. Posting when finished is, however, one of my goals as a writer. I would like to give readers a much more consistent upload schedule from me, and I’d love the comfort of knowing everything was finished.

Which fic are you most proud of?

This is another one of these questions that had me stumped for a long time. Part of me wants to say A Sign of the Morning, because it is, to date, my longest completed fic, as well as the fic that has gotten the most attention in my entire fanfiction writing history. But it has a lot of flaws. A lot. But at the same time, it meant so much to me that any other answer feels wrong.

How did you get the idea for A Sign of the Morning?

I loved the idea that Steve and Eddie had to have crossed paths before at some point, and I had always loved Steve’s growth as a character in the series but I felt like it was missing something. Some of the first few scenes that I imagined were the swing set scene, and the final fight Steve has with his parents. I enjoy stories that have character growth amid romance, and I wanted asotm to have that. From there, it really took on its own life. But from the moment I first had the idea, I wanted the story to have a specific feeling, which eventually led to how I chose the name. I wanted this fic to feel like the moment you have after the worst night of your life, the night you didn't know if you would make it out the other side. And then on the horizon, you can see the sun coming up, and you realize that you've made it. Steve's journey with his sexuality, his friendship, his relationships- familial, platonic, and romantic, and his growth into adulthood amidst a whole ton of supernatural trauma was what I wanted to write about- with Steddie to weave it together.

When writing A Sign of the Morning, what was something you didn’t expect?

The response for this fic is nothing I've ever experienced in around 15 years of writing. I've never had that sort of attention on my work, and I'm so grateful for every person who left a comment, a kudos, or a kind message at my Tumblr. I was also shocked how much of it just … happened. I had a few key plot points when I started writing, but some chapters and storylines (the party at the Byers-Hopper house, El’s “tattoos”, the fight between Jason and Steve) just fit and almost wrote themselves.

What inspired sweet to taste (saccharine)?

I hadn’t intended on continuing the story from hot (sticky, sweet), but once I had posted it I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I hadn’t really written a one shot like that before, where nothing actually happened between the characters and it was left hanging in the air with a “will they/won’t they”, and something about the one shot felt unfinished. But I also didn’t want to add another chapter, because I liked the standalone nature of the original and I wanted people who were happy with the ending to have the option to leave it as a flirty oneshot.

What was your favorite part to write from hot (sticky, sweet)?

The scene at the end of the story, outside Starcourt where Steve and Eddie are talking to one another was my favourite part to write. As much as the excess of samples scene holds a place in my heart, so many of my favourite lines are from that final scene. Eddie giving Steve his number by writing it on his arm and Steve sneaking Eddie into the theater really stick out in my mind.

How do/did you feel writing hold me now, i need relief?

The fic was originally inspired by the most beautiful piece of artwork by littleststarfighter on Tumblr, and from there the story really came together way faster than I was expecting. It was a harder fic to write than I anticipated. I wanted to explore a little bit of what Eddie’s life would be like if he survived, considering just how bad his injuries would have been. I have two conditions that cause chronic pain, and experienced an accident several years ago that exacerbated both of them to the point of not being able to get out of bed some days. Pouring a lot of those feelings into Eddie, writing the fic felt like a massive cathartic release and kind of a forgiveness to my past self for some of the things I had been hanging on to.

What was the most difficult part of writing seasons change (so do we)?

Right now, the actual writing part of it. I have the entire fic planned out scene to scene in a google doc somewhere, and this thing is fighting me every step of the way. Other than that, the hardest part of the chapters that are actually posted was probably getting into the heads of the characters from before we’ve known them, and making it seem realistic to who they are in canon. Writing bitchy Steve Harrington was a blessing and a curse, it was important to me to write him in a way that felt like he could connect seamlessly into S1 Steve Harrington without feeling disjointed.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Steve's final fight with his parents from A Sign of the Morning was in the works from the moment I started writing and when I finally got to it, everything felt perfect. The line where Steve asks his mother to let him leave is one I'm forever proud of. The final scene of a sign of the morning is another I'm partial to. Quiet, comforting love.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I'm getting back into writing! Slowly. Very slowly. I do have an ongoing Steddie WIP that haunts me throughout the day and I hope to update it soon.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

So many people have reached out to me about a sign of the morning helping them come to terms with their sexuality, or that it helped them feel comfortable coming out, and for some others it even made them realize that they were in bad relationships with people around them and I am forever honored to have had something I wrote have that kind of impact. Fanfiction got me through some of the darkest times in my life and for anyone who is in a place like Steve, or Eddie, or even any of the other characters and they are fighting every day to just exist in a world that's so much harder than it needs to be- I'm so proud of you. So proud.

Thank you to our author, @toedenandbackagain, and our nominator! See more of ToEdenandBackAgain's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic recs #stranger things #steve x eddie #steddieunderdogfics

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