#I write fanfics instead

[yurislotusgarden]

TEACHER/PROFESSOR!DAZAI HC'S PART 2

ʚїɞ There are hc's just about teacher Dazai but also some including reader once again so-

ʚїɞ Dazai x reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 785

ʚїɞ Part 1

ʚїɞ My current ongoing Christmas event

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just some regular fluff and stuff

ʚїɞ The first part was more liked than I thought damn

ཐིཋྀ If you want to find him outside of the lesson there are 3 options if he isn’t in the classroom

ཐིཋྀ One would be that he’s in Chuuya’s classroom to annoy him (many students wonder why he goes there when they claim to hate each other)

ཐིཋྀ The second one would be that he’s gone to the teacher's lounge probably annoying Kunikida

ཐིཋྀ Or the third option, the lil shit is wandering around the halls so you need to count on sheer luck to find him

ཐིཋྀ Everyone wonders whether he comes to work with bed hair everyday because he's too lazy to brush it out or his hair is naturally messy

ཐིཋྀ HE WOULD HAVE HIS HAIR UP IN A PONYTAIL VERY OFTEN SO IT DOESN’T GO INTO HIS EYES VBDWIBWJWDAEDIVAD

ཐིཋྀ In winter he makes it look like he has a new sweater/shirt everyday, but he simply styles it differently (Motivation comes from the amusement he gets after confusing the students)

ཐིཋྀ He so would wear jewelry like necklaces, earrings, and rings (he wore all his rings outside of the gloves besides the marriage band until his marriage was revealed to the students, after that, it joined the other rings on top and not under the material)

ཐིཋྀ Chuuya even gets him new jewelry every few months, even if there isn't a special occasion

ཐིཋྀ He wanted to make one of those charts with stars or other shapes for specific things like ‘you get a star if you give your work in on time’ to give out good grades practically for free but the school didn't allow him

ཐིཋྀ Students would love that idea, because who wouldn't want free good grades

ཐིཋྀ Actually, I think the school would let him do the chart thing in his first year, but said ‘no’ later

ཐིཋྀ His classroom would be decorated for different occasions, no doubt on that one

ཐིཋྀ He and Chuuya once came to work in each other's clothes and literally everyone was so lost on why they lost a bet to you

ཐིཋྀ Whenever he's in as a substitute, he makes it so damn fun that no student even thinks of skipping because they would miss absolute tea

ཐིཋྀ He always has pens/pencils for the students to borrow if they need it

ཐིཋྀ During his first few years,  a student would get expelled every year from his class due to their stupid decision to flirt with him because they wanted better grades or needed to pass

ཐིཋྀ Speaking of that, a student flirted with you once (a small passing crush) and you had to stop Dazai from expelling them for that😭✋

ཐིཋྀ One time, he randomly called in, saying he couldn't go in. It was obvious he wasn't sick but he hung up before anyone could ask questions

ཐིཋྀ You were sick, that's the reason

ཐིཋྀYou brought cookies the first time you visited Dazai’s class to actually meet the students, and immediately, they held you in high regard because ’Professor Dazai’s spouse brought a cookie for every single student in his class, and you just can’t dislike someone who gives cookies because they wanted to make sure they seem nice’

ཐིཋྀ You wanted to bring ice cream but you realized early on how much it would need to be and decided on cookies instead

ཐིཋྀ The students would be absolutely jealous of Dazai’s bentos when they saw them, no matter whether it was before they knew about you or after

ཐིཋྀ If it was before, they would always ask where he got them and he would give a random street name, just for the students to realize it was something completely different once they checked out the actual address

ཐིཋྀ If it’s after they found out, I can guarantee that some students straight up asked or even offered money to have a bento made by you💀

“It looks so delicious [random name]!”

“You still shouldn’t have asked his spouse to make you food.”

“You’re acting like the professor knows I asked about it.”

“And you’re acting like it’s not obvious that I’ve been told about that.”

ཐིཋྀ Yes, he scared those 2 students in the middle of the lecture and assigned extra work for the one that asked you for food

ཐིཋྀ Dazai gatekeeps your meals from most people, he would from everyone if it wasn't for the fact that he knows it would make you sad to be unable to give food to your friends😭

ཐིཋྀ You sometimes give Dazai 2 or more bentos than just one if you know that one of the other professors didn't make food for the day (if the other person is Chuuya, you need to tell the ginger that Dazai has another bento with him or he won't get it because of Dazai not bothering to tell him or giving it to him)

Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

@kissesmellow21 @deonsx @sukiischaotic (I hope you 3 won't mind the tagging <3)

[thevoidstaredback]

Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant

Listen. It was an accident. He didn't mean to! It just kinda happened.

So maybe he brought a drink with enough caffeine in it to kill an elephant within a few minutes, and maybe he forgot to put the sleeve on his cup so he could tell it apart from the others, but it's not his fault! He didn't think anyone else was going to have the exact same Yeti cup as him! It's not like he'd seen any of the others carry one before. Besides, he worked with superheros. They should be smart enough to check before drinking someone else's drink.

Danny had been summoned by the Justice League Dark a few years back in order to help with a world ending crisis and he just didn't leave. It's not like he could go anywhere anyway. His ghost half hadn't grown past fourteen and his human half had stopped visibly aging at eighteen. He'd had to leave town as Danny Fenton, but he'd stayed in Amity Park as Danny Phantom. When his parents died of old age, thank god, he'd closed down the portal, stuck around for a few more years, before traveling the world as Danny Fenton.

Anyway, he'd taken up residence in the House of Mysteries after the JLD had summoned him. Constantine, at first, had been wary, but he and the rest of the JLD had grown to accept him. He was an honorary member of the team.

At some point, just after Robin had become Red Robin, Danny had been introduced to the Justice League. He liked those guys, too, and worked with them sometimes. Though, he usually only went to bug them.

Red Robin had been very interested in the fact that his was fourteen and working with grown heros, like he was one to talk, but Danny hadn't explained anything other than saying that he had died and come back. The following conversation was an interesting one that lead to Danny knowing that Nightwing was the Batman he'd met and that Batman was lost somewhere. He'd confirmed that the man was not dead, but he hadn't offered to help look for him. He probably should have, in retrospect.

Back on topic! Everyone in the JLD knew not to touch Danny's drink. They'd all seen him make it before and had been horrified on varying degrees. It's not like it could kill him. He's already half dead! So long as he only drank this specific brew as Phantom, he'd be fine.

The Justice League, apparently, didn't get the memo. He blames Constantine because Zatanna and Raven can do no wrong. No, John, he's not biased.

The point is, Red Robin just had a sip of Danny's drink. The horror he now felt was akin to the fear he held when he'd told his parents he was Phantom. (An interaction that had gone very well, thank you very much.)

Danny knew the exact moment that the vigilante realized he grabbed the wrong drink. His eyes widened to an astonishing degree, and, if he'd been able to seen his eyes behind the mask, Danny knew that the man's pupils would've completely overtaken the irises. His hands started shaking, too. Oh, no. The man's already addicted to hellish amounts of coffee. This is only going to make it worse!

Quickly, and without drawing any attention, thank the Ancients, Danny rushed over. "You, um, you okay, man?" Obviously not, but he tends to talk when he's anxious and he was certainly anxious right now. He could've possibly just killed a man via poison!

"What the fuck is in this coffee?" Red Robin asked, going to take another sip.

Danny pulled the Yeti from his hand and gave him the proper one. "Enough caffeine to kill an elephant."

"Obviously not, seeing as I'm still alive."

"Yeah, I can't tell if that's a good thing or not."

"Excuse me?"

"I-I mean-! I didn't-! You know what I mean." Caffeine is poisonous in excess, and his drink was way beyond excess, but it's the only thing that works for him as a ghost! Superpowered metabolism and all that.

"Do I?" The laugh in his voice answered for him. He took a sip from his drink and frowned at it. "I don't think any coffee will ever be enough again."

"And that's my cue to get my drink very far away from you." Danny turned, fully intent on moving to the other side of the room. Besides, the meeting was going to start as soon as the Flash and Kid Flash arrived, which would be soon. Something about one of their Rouges getting out?

"What?" Red Robin asked, "Why?" If he was a little desperate to get another sip of that coffee, he'd rather not acknowledge it.

"Because you don't need anymore lethal coffee," he muttered, "The sip you took will already keep you awake for three days at least, and it probably jump started an addiction. Best to stop it now. Besides, I need to go have my crisis on how the hell you're still alive after even a sip of this stuff."

"Again, rude." The bird themed vigilante crossed his arms as best he could while holding his cup. "If it's so dangerous, why do you drink it?"

Danny took a deliberate sip as he locked eyes with the technically younger man. "I'm dead. I don't need to worry about my heart stopping or having a seizure."

"Excuses."

"No, it's not 'excuses'. I'm saving your life."

"You're a kid. If I can't have that coffee, then you shouldn't be having it."

"First, I'm older than you. Second, I already told you: I'm dead. This isn't going to hurt me. Third, you can't tell me what to do."

"There's no way you're older than me. You're like, ten."

"I'm thirty-eight!" He balked, "I only look fourteen because I died when I was fourteen. We've been over this."

Neither noticed the entire Justice League looking at them. The two they were waiting on had arrived a few minutes ago and everyone was ready to start the meeting, but they'd been distracted by the two's conversation. Was that true? Had Phantom really died so young? They'd all been made aware he was not living, but they didn't think he'd died so young! Though, that was probably the denial speaking.

The Justice League Dark had been fully aware of this and didn't really bat an eye. Though, someone should probably get this meeting started. A potentially world ending threat was the topic, and that was a pretty important thing to discuss.

Captain Marvel was the first to pull himself together, though that was only after Atlas and Zeus had mentally slapped him out of his stupur. "As, ah, riveting as this conversation is," he stepped between the two boys- er, boy and man? "we really need to start this meeting."

Batman did not clear his throat because he'd not lost his voice in the first place. "He's right. Everyone take your seats."

Storyboard Part 2

[nina-rosa]

(read from left to right →)

🌸 The negligible self 🌸 chapter 1, p.1 to 7

A comic based on a serirei (from mp100) fanfiction written by @homosexual-fanfiction (@/ch_am on Ao3)! Please go read the fanfic there too because it’s really good!!! T v T

I don’t know if I’ll adapt the whole story (even if I really want to!!!) so for now I’ll try to do as much as I can, starting with that first chapter (which is already entirely storyboarded)!

Thanks to Camp for allowing me to draw their story and for helping me while designing some of the settings and Aimi <333 and thank you again for writing such an awesome and inspiring story!!

You can find Camp here too: @ch-am

I hope you’ll enjoy this first bouquet of pages!!💐

Here’s the link to the fic!!

[lauraneedstochill]

Can’t help falling in love

summary: 5 times Aemond was in love with you + 1 time he finally confessed his feelings

warnings: friends to lovers (at the age of 9, 10, 15, 17, 19), a pinch of angst (Aemond healing after losing his eye), but overall so fluffy and sweet you may want to skip dessert

words: ~ 5500 (I got reeeally carried away with that love confession)

1.

Aemond is weeks away from his tenth birthday and he feels as miserable as ever. That feeling is an iron weight upon his heart, his mood irritated and face features grim more often than not. He is still without a dragon — and it’s the only thing he can think of, day and night, steadfast and stubborn in his obsession that most of his family finds to be blown out of proportion. It might have stang him less if only it wasn’t for the constant teasing and pitiful jokes that added to his distress and the never-ending heartache. He learns to keep a straight face and act as if he doesn’t really care, but deep down he does, way more than he’ll ever admit.

His training sessions are a way to channel his anger, and he lashes out at a straw man, again and again, clinging to the thought that, at least in these moments, he is not entirely powerless. He keeps his focus on the target, attentive to Ser Criston’s advice — “Soften your knees”, “Keep your feet light, your hands heavy”, and for a couple of hours he forgets about his misery.

It’s when the training comes to an end, the dreaded realization sinks in again, and Aemond is lost in his thoughts, mindlessly twirling the wooden sword in one hand, his gaze wandering around the yard.

And then his eyes fall on a bright green spot — and all of a sudden, he sees you. A girl of his age, the hem of your green dress a bit dusty, boots covered in dirt, a few strands of hair fallen loose, a coy smile on your face. You meet his gaze and wave at him excitedly.

Aemond looks dumbfounded. A girl in the training yard. Waving at him. He blinks once, twice — and in the next moment, you’re standing merely a few steps away, glancing curiously at his sword.

“It looks so hefty! Is it heavy? What is it made of?” a string of questions, your voice sweet and joyful.

There’s a brief pause and maybe you mistake his stiffness for arrogance as you are quick to add:

“Oh, my manners!” gasping but showing no actual regret. “Forgive me,” you curtsy, your smile growing even wider. A timid smile appears on his face in return and he finally comes to his senses.

“It’s made out of red oak. It’s not very heavy, you get used to it,” Aemond raises the sword, letting you take a closer look. Within another blink of an eye he finds himself talking to you, your questions endless and maybe a bit naive but he genuinely enjoys it.

That’s until you both hear a loud cry.

“Lady Y/N!” your nanny comes running in, out of breath and scowling. “I told you not to wander around...,” she chokes on her words at the sight of the young prince. She curtsies, too, but it isn’t nearly as cute as when you do it.

She sprints decisively in your direction. “It wasn’t very polite of you to interrupt the prince’s training, you little menace!”

And then Aemond, to his own surprise, moves to stand in her way.

“She didn’t interrupt a thing,” he disagrees, lips thinned into a tight line.

The nanny stops and looks at Aemond dubiously, switching her gaze from him to you.

Ser Criston is the one to resolve the conflict — he comes from behind, with a polite smile plastered on his face.

“Young lady can watch from the balcony. The guests are very much welcomed,” he calls for the maid to escort you and your nanny up there. While you’re away, he looks at Aemond with a grin:

“Already wooing the ladies, my prince? Let’s hope you are as good with your sword as she thinks you are.”

He does make Aemond work for it but the prince fights back, winning one bout after the other. He keeps glancing at you and you wave at him every single time.

Aemond is too young to know what love is, too shy and guarded to even entertain the thought of it. But when you look at him, with your childish grin and your eyes bright with mirth, he doesn’t feel lonely anymore. 2.

It’s been two weeks since Aemond lost his eye and he hasn’t left the bed. The pain is still blinding, burning and constantly making his only eye water. But what hurts even more is the humiliating disability. The triumph of claiming Vhagar died down, and now the prince was faced with the harsh reality he needed to adjust to and the process wasn’t an easy one. The fever has only recently gone down, leaving his body weak and freezing from the lack of movement, but he couldn’t bear the thought of stepping out of the room.

His mother wouldn’t leave his side and even Aegon often came to visit, clearly blaming himself for not being there for his little brother. Yet their presence barely brought Aemond any comfort and most of the time he would pretend to be asleep to avoid any conversations. He knew they only meant well and he was being cruel but he couldn’t help it as his pride was shattered and he gave in to sadness.

That is until one night he wakes up to a weird sound. He’s only half-awake when he hears a vigorous tapping that clearly comes from the outside. Except it's not from the other side of the door — but rather outside his window.

He’s startled by this guess and suspiciously walks closer. It takes him a few seconds to focus his gaze and discern a human’s silhouette — and then another few to realize that it’s you standing on the window sill. He feels like his heart will jump out of his chest as he rushes to open the window.

You climb through and clumsily drop to the floor. But before he can get worried, you are on your feet again, eyeing him with concern.

“Oh, Aemond,” your gaze and voice are both so soft, it makes his lower lip quiver. You carefully approach him and put your hand on his shoulder, gently sliding it on his back in a soothing motion and then cuddling him. He welcomes your company with a sigh of relief. You smell of oranges and you give the best hugs.

“They told me no one was allowed into your chambers,“ your hushed whisper burns his ear. “The silliest thing I’ve ever heard!” you pull away from him, still lightly panting, cheeks flushed and hair messy. “I knew I had to find a way to come see you.”

You examine his face, frowning at the scar that’s still healing.

“Does it hurt?”

He only nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth, he won’t be able to hold back a sob. You move closer, resuming the gentle motion of rubbing his back.

Ever since that day in the training yard, you kept in touch, regularly sending each other letters, chatting about everything and nothing, sharing your little secrets and observations. You recently mentioned that your parents allowed you to come see him again, but with the tragic change of events, Aemond completely forgot about the preplanned visit. 

“I will take his eye,” you say out of the blue, caressing the unharmed side of his face, your voice laced with anger. Aemond thinks he might’ve heard it wrong.

“...Whose eye?”

“Luke’s! I shall take his eye, as payment for yours,” you tell him with zero hesitation. For a girl of your age, you’re way too eager to plan such a thing, yet he somehow has no doubts that you can actually do it.

Aemond shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t,” his voice quiet but firm. “The King was very adamant about that, no payment is needed.”

“Well, maybe he is too old to think straight,” you retort. “You are his son and you lost an eye! Justice must prevail,” you tilt your head at him, clearly thinking that you’re in the right.

And he knows that you are but he also knows no justice will be served. It’s the last straw for Aemond — he looks away in shame as tears, hot and angry, start falling down his cheek. You waste no time hugging him again, letting him cry on your shoulder, and the two of you stay like that for what feels like an hour.

And then, in the comfortable silence of your embrace, he hears you asking, very seriously:

“Are you sure I can’t take his eye?”

At that moment, he can’t stop himself from letting out a laugh — a weak one and barely audible, but still, he laughs, for the first time in two weeks, and you are the sole reason for it. 

Your cheek is pressed to his, your fingers running through his hair, and Aemond realizes he can’t lose you.

He begrudgingly persuades you that taking Luke’s eye isn’t worth the trouble.

3.

By the age of fifteen Aemond becomes quite accustomed to the eyepatch and it gives him a boost of confidence. Losing an eye only made him train harder and his persistence pays off when he’s the one to win, time after time, no matter who his opponent is. His hair grows longer, now silky smooth and with no sign of his boyish curled ends, his face features sharpen. He learns to walk with his head high and hands clasped behind his back, mastering the intimidating look that makes most people want to stay away from the one-eyed prince. 

His tricks could’ve never worked on you, though.

You come to visit him a few times a year, and he eagerly awaits your arrival. All the days in between, you keep talking through letters, them getting longer as you get closer. He keeps those letters locked in a hidden compartment of his table. And sometimes, for no specific reason — or maybe for the reason he can’t yet formulate — he is drawn to reach for them, which always ends with him rereading the letters for hours. Some of them he knows by heart and yet it never stops him from having the pleasure of seeing your handwritten stories and little jokes that were only meant for him.

Today is no exception and Aemond is so enthralled by reading, he almost misses the knock on the door. The sound brings him to reality but he is in no hurry to react. The knocking comes again, and the prince groans, annoyed at the maid’s persistence. He carefully puts the letters back and goes to the door, armed with his cold gaze.

And then he opens it — and it’s you standing in front of him. 

Aemond barely has time to register what’s going on when you launch yourself at him, your arms immediately enveloping him in a tight hug, your laugh ringing in the air. He hugs you back and, while you can’t see it, he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“I swear you’re getting taller every time we meet!” you look up at him, beaming, and he lets you in. “I soon will need a ladder just to hug you properly.”

“I’ll be sure to let my body know of your disapproval,” he sneers and you stick out your tongue.

“While you are at it, shall you also work on your friendly face? I overheard the maids being frightened to go into your chambers,” you try giving him a scolding look but end up giggling at his reddened cheeks.

“I am friendly enough!”

“Yes, nobody glowers quite like you,” you snicker and flop right on the floor, the move always making him smile. Aemond tried persuading you to sit on any other surface that’s actually meant for sitting but you insisted that his fluffy rug works just as well, so he eventually gave up, deciding to join you. He never complained since.

Before he knows it, he’s immersed in the conversation while you enthusiastically share the recent news and everything that’s happened to you on the road. Only about half an hour in, he notes a small bag you’re clasping in your hands.

“You come bearing gifts?”

“Oh, I almost forgot I had it,” you laugh, abashed. “I decided I should bring you something to replace this crumpled-looking thing”.

It takes Aemond a minute to realize that you’re talking about his eyepatch. But he has no time to protest as you silence him with a gesture of your hand.

“I took it upon myself to count for how long you’ve been wearing this one already,” your tone gets serious. “I must say, that number is disturbing.”

There’s a moment of silence and then he clears his throat, his voice unsure. “Very kind of you to think of that, I shall replace it later on.”

He reaches his hand to take the bag but you quickly cover it with yours, fingers brushing over his, and he freezes.

“Are you still not convinced that I can take a look at it?” you try to make eye contact but he averts your gaze.

“Aemond, I was with you and I think I’ve seen enough back then — none of it scared me.”

“It is not a sight for the faint of heart,” the prince mumbles, his bravado faltering.

“Well, I don’t remember fainting the first time. You should have more faith in me,” you try to reason, holding his hand.

Aemond ponders for another minute — or maybe ten, he isn’t sure, and you patiently wait, not wanting to press him any further. Then he finally makes a decision and, after taking a long, sad sigh, he removes the eyepatch and looks at you, the sight of him is the very definition of insecurity.

You stay silent for about five seconds before concluding:

“Oh, it healed so nicely!” with no hint of uncertainty in your voice. Your smile reassures him a little as you peer at the sapphire, looking very pleased.

“The gem compliments your eye very well,” you give him your verdict, taking the new eyepatch out.

“We might have a different understanding of what a compliment is.”

“This is me trying to say that I really like the way it looks,” you chide him lightly. “And I consider myself to be quite understanding, thank you very much. Will you stop pouting and let me put it on?”

At this point he surrenders, giving you permission, and you move closer, giggling with excitement. You gently fix his hair, making sure it’s all combed back, and then lean to put the eyepatch on. You have a habit of biting your lower lip when you’re too concentrated on something, and Aemond can’t help but gaze at that part of your face while your teeth graze over the pillowy surface. 

He’s never let anyone this close — and not just in the sense of physical proximity. The moment is very intimate, and the softness of your movements tugs at his heart. He is suddenly very aware of the very short distance separating you two, and he holds his breath. You are oblivious to his stare and soon lean back, satisfied with the result and glancing at him with something akin to fondness.

He wishes he could paint a picture of you right at this moment, so tender and caring and sitting by his side.

He also wishes he could kiss you — and that thought scares him to death. And yet, once it appears, it never goes away.

4.

Aemond is seventeen and his life has been pure torture since you stopped visiting him. He hasn’t seen you in over half a year (seven months and eleven days, not that anyone is counting). It’s not your fault as your father has unexpectedly fallen ill and you couldn’t leave his side. The prince exhausted the maester with questions, asking for advice to write back to you, worried sick that your separation would be stretched for way longer than he could handle.

Luckily, the Gods took pity on him, and he was glad to learn that your father got better, and you will come to King’s Landing soon. Your visit coincided with Aegon’s birthday, but Aemond didn’t care about the feast, his mind only occupied with the thought of seeing you. He was both nervous and excited to the point of not even hiding it, which led to Aegon teasing him relentlessly. Helaena, on the other hand, wholeheartedly supported Aemond’s feelings for you.

“She will be delighted to see you, too, I am sure of it,” his sister tells him the day before the event.

“But the reason for it might be of a different nature,” Aemond remarks, and Helaena gives him a compassionate look.

“You will never know her true feelings unless you ask,” she encourages. “The two of you are so close, I consider her part of the family.”

Aemond knows that he’s of age and his mother hinted that, despite him showing no interest in courting, some ladies still found him attractive. He dismisses the idea but then finds himself thinking of it from time to time. When the realization forms in his head, it’s nerve-wracking but oh so compelling — he thinks he would’ve really wanted to marry you. He just doesn’t know how to tell you about it.

The day of your arrival comes, and Aemond wakes up at dawn in anticipation, determined to confess his feelings. He tries to come up with a speech, but it feels wrong and sounds weird, and he decides it will be better to improvise. He all but runs to the courtyard to be the first one to greet you. However, when you step out of the carriage, smoothing your dress, and your eyes meet, Aemond stops dead in his tracks and the world around him stands still.

His confidence might’ve blossomed — but not nearly as much as your beauty did. Somehow in those recent months, you’ve matured into a woman that takes his breath away.

It’s not a drastic change, it’s all in the details: the contours of your face are more defined, the cheekbones prominent, your hair knotted up high in a perfect style and even your pace is much slower and gracious. You walk towards one another, both suddenly cautious. But when you are a couple of meters apart, a well-known smile appears on your face and you hold your arms out to him and he finally hugs you again, after all this time. Aemond relaxes, inhaling the familiar scent of fruits that you undoubtedly munched on your way here.

“You look exactly as I remembered you,” you say as you slip from his embrace.

“And you are a sight to behold,” he breathes out, taking you in, and your cheeks heat up at the compliment. You’ve never been shy with him before, so this is also new. He wonders what might’ve caused this change.

As the two of you walk around the castle, it feels a bit awkward at first, and you keep glancing at him with emotion he can’t read. But Aemond is too happy to see you to give it much thought, and within an hour you ease into the conversation, too. By the time the evening comes, the tension disappears, and you are laughing at his sarcastic remarks again, and he savors every second of it.

The feast in honor of Aegon is lush and crowded, but you stay by Aemond’s side, enjoying each other’s company, and he only has eye for you. When the music gets too loud, you sneak out and soon find yourselves in his chambers, just like in the good old days.

Aemond is in the middle of telling you about Aegon’s recent foray to the Flea Bottom, when you say. “It’s just the two of us,” your fingers sink into the fluffy rug. “You don’t have to wear it with me. You know it, right?”

He wears the eyepatch with everyone, only taking it off before going to sleep. Moreover, he actually cherishes it because it’s a gift from you.

Aemond hesitates. “I thought you quite liked it.”

“I only gave it to you because yours started to look like it was pulled off a dead man’s body!” you laugh.

Before he can think of an answer, you lean closer — your shoulder brushing his, your hand touching his face, the same gentle warmth he remembers so well, — and remove the eyepatch yourself. The sight doesn’t bother you in the slightest as you confess:

“I accept you the way you are, Aemond,” and then, a moment away from him opening his mouth and saying the thing that’s been on the tip of his tongue for the duration of the day, you add, “That’s what friends are for — and you are my best friend.”

And just like that, with this word alone, his plan goes out the window.

A friend. Aemond can’t even be upset at the reveal, because, honestly, being your friend feels like a blessing in itself and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. How could he be so selfish and foolish to even think about risking it all, risk losing you?

So he keeps his feelings to himself, locking them away deep in his heart, and doesn't argue with you.

Maybe he should have.

5.

By the age of nineteen Aemond reaches the conclusion that he wants to take the risk. Otherwise, he thinks he might actually die as his heart can not hold all his feelings anymore. In two years' time, there isn’t a single thing about you that he hasn’t come to love, and keeping it a secret becomes harder with each day.

Aemond is ridden with doubts to the point where he can’t hide it any longer and he decides to seek advice — and the prince can’t think of a better person to talk to than his mother. Unbeknownst to him, Alicent was the first one to notice. Years ago, when you were kids, she quickly sensed the effect you had on her son, and it brought her joy as she watched the two of you get closer with time.

So when Aemond bursts into her room, anxiety radiating off of him as he starts jabbering away, his pacing erratic and voice trembling, it takes her about a minute to realize what's going on.

“My dear, I think you must talk to her,” she approaches him, an understanding look on her face.

Aemond cuts his speech short, eyeing her with wonder:

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“Your affection for her is as bright as a fire blazing,” Alicent chuckles. “I believe she is the only one who doesn’t see it.”

“Should I tell her...?” he doesn’t dare say it out loud, not yet.

Alicent briefly takes his hands in hers, squeezing them. “You should tell her the truth.”

Her encouragement gives him a dash of hope, lifting a weight off his chest. Aemond knows in an instant that the letter won’t cut it, and you must have the conversation face-to-face. Fortunately, your next visit is in a month, so his suffering won’t last for much longer.

Aemond almost reaches the door but then sharply turns to his mother again, his cheeks flushed:

“Will you give me your approval?” and this time, he looks straight at her as he wants to see her genuine reaction.

Alicent smiles, quick to reassure him. “Yes, Aemond. Your betrothal would only make me happy.” The prince feels elated, almost euphoric, as he finally goes to meet you and runs the remaining distance from his chambers to the yard. But when he sees you, the smile disappears from his face because he notices that something is wrong.

You look visibly upset, your eyes watering and fingers fumbling with the dress, even though you try to force a smile in return. The hug you give him is weak and you keep looking at your feet.

“What is the matter?” he’s never seen you this sad, but you brush him off.

“It’s just a headache, no need to worry.”

Yet that’s exactly what he does, offering to call for the maester, or to prepare you a warm bath, or bring you some tea...

“A cup of water would be nice, thank you,” he leaves you in the hallway to go and get it himself, the task only takes a couple of minutes. When he returns, you stand with your back to him, your shoulders are shaking — and he hears quiet, muffled sobs. If it wasn’t for the nearby table, he would’ve thrown the cup away, his focus on you alone. As he rushes to envelop you in a hug, you don’t fight it, instead nestling your face against his chest, not hiding your tears anymore.

Aemond gives you some time before asking again.

“This doesn’t look like just a headache. What is the cause of your anguish?” now he’s the one running his fingers up and down your back.

You let out a sound that’s a mix between a groan and a whine.

“My father says I am to be betrothed soon. He says I am of age already and... and he wants me to meet some of my cousins,” you sniffle. “I told him I have no wish to get married but he refuses to listen,” you bite your lip, not wanting to cry again.

Surely, that’s not how Aemond wanted to ask you. But he decides to take his chance.

“Mayhaps there is another way out that could make you feel better.”

“Please don’t tell me Vhagar will burn them down,” you jest but the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. Aemond thinks your idea isn’t that bad — but he has to try his first.

“If he insists you should marry but doesn’t have a particular candidate, maybe you can pick one yourself?”

“I’ve met all my cousins — and half of them are imbeciles, the others are too old to survive a wedding,” you scoff.

“Then pick someone you are not related to,” Aemond suggests.

“Do you have a particular candidate in mind?” when you ask with a tinge of annoyance, you don’t think he will answer. And then you look at him — and see him grinning before he says:

“Me”.

You glare at Aemond with eyes wide and mouth agape, the expression frozen on your face for a good minute. 

“Are you laughing at me?” you manage to say.

“I wouldn’t dare,” his nerves are as tight as a wound-up string.

In the blink of a moment, your face lights up. You are looking at him indecisively, searching for words, agitated. But Aemond mistakes your confusion for rejection.

“At the very least you will marry someone you know,” he tries to reason — but it backfires, wiping the joyfulness off your face.

Taken aback, you inquire. “You pity me?” He doesn’t grasp the poor choice of his words yet.

“You pity me and that’s why you want to marry me?” you give him a look of disbelief, your eyes glossy, and he can’t get his head around what just happened.

“Oh, it was so silly of me to think that...,” you choke back a sob, putting your hand over your mouth.

Never in his life he thought he would be the reason for you looking so heartbroken. Aemond covers your hand with his palm — and you let him, as he tries to gather his courage.

“I only meant to say that I —”

And then you recoil, snapping your hand back.

“Aemond, don’t,” you take a step back from him, then another one. “You have said enough. Please, let me be,” you turn away and leave the hall in a hurry before he can utter another word.

... 1.

He finds you at your usual spot, under the blossoming cherry tree. You’ve always said you liked the color of it, little white flowers reminding you of early spring, your favorite time of the year. You don’t know that Aemond insisted on planting that tree specifically for you. Just so he can sit nearby and, as you were basking in the sunlight with your eyes closed, he would get a chance to look at you with all his unconditional love and have those moments engraved in his memory.

Come to think of it, he had so many memories of you — and every single one of them was bliss, and he can recall them so easily like it was yesterday.

And so he does.

“When we first met, you wore a green dress,” his voice startles you, but you don’t turn to face him, sniffling with your arms folded. “It was the color of forest trees. Black lace around the hem of it, the matching hair ribbon that you kept losing,” he keeps his distance, his hands shaking.

“Yes, I remember it pretty well,” you sigh, avoiding his gaze, baffled by his sudden outburst.

“The second time was when you climbed through my window, almost gave me a heart attack,” there’s a hint of a smile in his voice that you catch even without looking. “Blue dress, you tore a huge piece of it and couldn’t care less. You were the first person to make me laugh in two weeks even though it seemed impossible. But not with you.”

He sees your eyebrows furrowing, hands sliding down to rest on your knees.

“Helaena’s name day came next, your dress was bright pink. Luke tried to make fun of it and you threw a cup full of water in his face. To this day, it’s one of my fondest memories.”

You dare to look up at him, perplexed, your eyes wet from crying. 

“Three months after was the light-blue dress, then the peach one and the brown one. Then the white one which didn’t survive the horse riding lesson, and Helaena gave you one of hers. Light green, too long for your liking, even though you pretended otherwise to please her,” the corners of your lips tremble, your face softening.

“Then for a year you only wore violet, much to your nanny’s dismay as she thought it made you look ill. And I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, no matter what dress you were in,” he can’t take his eye off you.

Your face expression melts into a stunned one.

“I didn’t realize it back then. Or maybe I didn’t know how to call it. I just knew that your visits only brought me happiness,” he takes a step toward you, uncertain, but you don’t move from your spot.

“When you were fourteen, you picked the autumn colors — orange, dark yellow, deep red. Your started braiding your hair, tried to braid mine,” you can’t hold back a smile. He was fussy when you first voiced the idea but he ended up loving the process so much, he would allow it just to feel your fingers flowing through his hair.

“I think you actually enjoyed it,” you mumble, and Aemond smiles, too.

“I did. I enjoyed every minute that I got to spend with you.”

You stand up then, feeling your pulse quickening.

“The day you brought me the eyepatch, you wore emerald green. I was terrified to show you the scar,” he pauses, catching his breath. “You assuaged my fears with your kindness. But then I was terrified to learn that I wanted to kiss you.”

You think you are dreaming. Is it possible that you fell asleep under the tree? You don’t want to get your hopes too high, but when he looks at you like this, your own fears start melting away.

“Then was the black dress, the grey one, another white one. The golden one you wore to meet Vhagar,” when he saw you that day, he almost forgot how to breathe. You showed no sigh of apprehension as you fearlessly approached the dragon. He was absolutely besotted.

“And then came the agony of not seeing you for over seven months,” he closes his eye for a second, overwhelmed. He almost misses it when you speak:

“Seven months and twenty-five days. Not that I was counting,” his eye snaps open, instantly on you again.

You gravitate toward each other without even noticing. Aemond’s heart skips a beat when you’re at arm’s length, your eyes shining and lips slightly parted. Even in the state you’re in, you look so beautiful, it’s mesmerizing, and the words are stuck in his throat. You are the one to break the silence.

“Aemond, please don't give me false hope,” your heartbeat is too loud, you don’t hear your own voice. He does.

“I do not wish to marry you out of pity,” Aemond takes the last step. “I want you to be my wife because I am in love with you,” he wipes away the remaining tears off your face, his fingers linger, making you shiver. “I’ve been in love with you for quite some time. For a few years, actually,” his voice gets low. “For what feels like an eternity,” Aemond murmurs.

“Why haven’t you told me?” you pout, nervously toying with the collar of his shirt.

“I was afraid you didn’t feel the same. I still am but maybe... Maybe I am wrong?” his gaze is fixed on you, one of his hands following the contour of your waist, your body warming at the touch.

“Tell me that I am wrong,” he whispers, begging.

You look at his lips, the soft curve of them that you’ve dreamt of for so long.

Aemond always thought yours were the most kissable he’s ever seen.

You don’t know who closes the distance first — but his mouth is suddenly on yours and the sensation leaves you disarmed. Kissing him is like being swept with a wave of tenderness, and you’re floating in it, his lips so fervid and supple — truly perfect — your head is spinning. The kiss is not awkward nor modest as you hastily cling to each other, his hands gripping your waist, your chest pressed into his.

Aemond feels like he’s drowning, and he wants more of you — all of you, and then your fingers tug at his locks, eliciting a groan from him, and it is simply a miracle that his heart doesn’t explode. You move in impeccable sync, in the passionate harmony that erupts from years worth of mutual pining. His lungs burn but he resists the urge to break the kiss and stretches it out the best he can until you are breathless, too.

“Never knew that you were so fascinated by my wardrobe choices,” you tease, and his hum turns into a chuckle.

“You know what my favorite memory is?” you ask, your forehead resting against his.

“When we were ten-and-three, and you were teaching me how to hold a sword. I tackled you to the ground and scraped my knee,” you both smile at your then enthusiasm. “And you set everything aside to spend the rest of the day with me even though it was hardly a wound. And I remember thinking,” you hook your finger under his chin, “that there’s nowhere else I would rather be than with you, with this favorite boy of mine.”

The air around you is tense, and you are enchanted by each other.

“Did that help to prove you wrong?”

“I may need some convincing,” his breath fans over your lips.

“You can take your time,” you laugh — and then the sound of it is muffled by his athirst mouth. His favorite memory will be this.

And every other moment with you that’s to come.

author’s note: I’m sorry if this came out messy and rushed. I tried my best to write a shorter fic (this is short for me lmao) and idk how I feel about it. I much rather prefer them longer because I’m a sucker for stories about two people getting to know each other and falling in love BUT I get it that others don’t want to read long ass fics (which kinda breaks my heart but I'm being so very brave about it) anyways, thank you for reading! 💙 the longer version of this fic might have looked like this (yes, this is a shameless plug! because I adore this one to pieces!! bite me) 🎵 the title is a quote from Elvis Presley’s song (duh). there are quite a few covers of it but one of my favorites is by Twenty One Pilots. there’s also a female version — by Ingrid Michaelson — and I think both of them fit the story really well. 💞 my masterlist P.S. I’m also on AO3 (lol, who isn’t), in case you prefer to read fics there.

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

[casdeans-pie]

The first time Castiel heard the phrase to 'kiss something better' he thought it sounded like a ridiculous notion.

How could a kiss heal a wound? Kisses held no magic. No power.

But Castiel found the phrase drifting back to him while he looked at Dean, hissing with pain as he wiped blood away from his grazed skin.

(Dean insisted on wearing jeans with useless intentional rips on the knees, so it felt inevitable that he would eventually scuff the skin there.) (Castiel had even told him so.) (Dean had told him to stop being such a nag.)

Strange how Castiel knew that there were no mystical properties to a kiss, and yet now it was all he could think about. He could sink to his knees and place his lips directly over the wound, letting his grace knit the flesh below. Or... he could grab a fistful of Dean's flannel and crush his lips to Castiel's own, walking them backwards until they hit the wall, bodies lined up, grace pouring in through their joined lips to thread down Dean's body to the injury and-

"Hey, Cas? You okay there, buddy?" Dean said, snapping Castiel out of his thoughts. His lips pulled up into a playful grin that actively grew as Castiel huffed and narrowed his eyes. "Y'kinda giving me a look like you might smite me or eat me."

"Your jeans are impractical," Castiel snapped in a deep rumble. He prodded Dean in the forehead with two fingertips - felt his grace seal the injury instantly - and disappeared with a hard flap of wings.

[shadebloopnik]

Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

[soapsbaby]

First kiss

How your first kiss with your favorite CoD character would go.

Characters: Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz, König all x reader Rating: sfw Word count: 650ish

Ghost

He was terrified that he was misinterpreting things and that if he’d ever make a move on you that you’d ridicule him for it, that he’d ruin your entire relationship with his emotions towards you.

You, on the other hand, were too afraid since he was so cold and emotionally unavailable, so it took both of you way too long to actually admit that you wanted more from each other than friendship.

You two got into a fight because you got upset that he almost got hurt on a mission. You get so frustrated because he just doesn’t get why you are so riled up. At some point you just can’t take it anymore. The words to explain yourself just don't come to you, so you just grab him and kiss him. 

He pulls back for a second but the moment his mind catches up with you he pulls you back in and doesn’t let you go for a long, long time. 

He’s been waiting for this for forever and now that he finally has the go ahead, he can’t let go of you, grasping you like his life depends on it.

Soap

He’s actually been pretty upfront about how he feels about you from the very moment you started getting closer, however he has not yet felt brave enough to actually get physically super close to you. He’s been gone on missions a lot, he is afraid that it might be too much for you to handle and he wants to take things as slow as he possibly can. 

It's late at night, you are on your way home from a restaurant and you are in his jacket and you just look so beautiful, he can not help himself.

He asks before he kisses you, but he simply can not help himself, his arm around your waist.

"Can I kiss you? Please?"

He does once, then a few more times on the way back home and about a hundred more times throughout the night, just for good measure.

Price

He loves treating you to gifts and dates. The day of your first kiss he had taken you to a concert of one of your favorite bands. He had his arms wrapped around you from behind, listening to your favorite song with you. 

He leans down to put a kiss on top of your head and you just have to let him know how you feel about him, how important he is to you, so you turn around and kiss him back. He takes the hint immediately, just holding you close to him and kissing you over and over again. It feels like no one else is even there, just you and him. 

Gaz

You and him were at his place, just watching a movie together. Without either of you actually intending it you had slid closer to him, your legs touching.

Even though he was scared, he laid his arm around your shoulders. You are best friends, he doesn't want to overstep and he doesn't want to get his heart broken.

You just looked at him and in that moment you both knew that you wanted it and just leaned in at the same time.

Neither of you paid any attention to the movie afterwards.

König

You two had been close but never really put a definition on your relationship. Your first kiss happened when he finally felt comfortable enough to take off his mask around you. You just couldn’t help yourself as you finally saw his face, sad puppy eyes looking at you to react to what he looked like, almost as if he expected rejection.

He is so surprised when you just lean in to give him a kiss, not being able to express your emotions in any better way than to just show him directly.

You don't know at the time but it's his first "real kiss" and he wouldn't have wanted it to have any other way.

[nottheweirdest]

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask Game Part II

💖 Which of your fics is your pride and joy? 🎥 Pick a fic and I'll tell you the song I imagine playing during its movie trailer.

📝 How many words do you have posted?

🤩 What's the most meaningful comment you've ever received?

🔮What's your favorite plot twist you've ever written?

👄 Your OTP are having their first kiss. What song do you imagine is playing?

🎭What genre of writing comes easiest to you?

🙊Your coworkers or classmates stumble across one of your fics, but don't know you're the author. Do you fess up? Or keep quiet?

🙌What's a line or paragraph of yours that you're proud of?

🦉Is there another author that helped inspire you to write?

👶Fankids: How you do you feel about them? Would your OTP have kids?

🐗How do you handle trolls?

🟥How long do you spend in edits?

🏡What is your perfect writing envrionment?

💪What motivates you to write?

🚿Where do your best ideas seem to strike?

🌠What are your top three most commonly used tags on AO3?

💻What do you write your stories on? Laptop, phone, paper, etc.

🤔What are some words or phrases you find yourself overusing?

📕How do you feel about people printing your fics?

🤷‍♀️What's a fic you didn't expect to be popular, but really took off?

🍎What's something you learned while researching for a fic?

🥘What wip are you most excited about?

🦗Do you write in sequence or jump around?

👀 Would you ever accept requests or commissions?

😱What's your greatest fear as a fanfic writer?

☕Coffee or tea while you write?

📈Which are your top three most popular fics by bookmarks?

🎬One of your fics gets turned into a TV series. Which one is it and what network is it on?

🛌 What's a trope you haven't written, but want to?

🐸 If you incorporated your OTP into a Disney movie plot, which would it be?

👩‍🎓 Do you have an 'official' creative writing background such as a degree or previous experience publishing?

⏳If you could go back in time and tell your younger writer self something, what would it be?

💯 What rating do you write the most? Gen Audiences, Teen, Mature, or Explicit? How many fics at that rating do you have?

😁What makes you happiest? New fic comments, kudos, bookmarks, user subscribers, story subscribers, or Tumblr asks?

🐎 Would you ever do a medieval or pirate au?

👩‍🏫Pick a character and I'll tell you their favorite season and why.

🎵Do you make playlists for your fics?

🌷What's one of your fics that isn't as popular, but you hold dear?

❓Insert your own question here!

[flowercrowngods]

Kas!Eddie where Steve uses positive reinforcement to help him feel like less of a monster. As Eddie becomes more human, the rewards get steamier. cw: explicit (ish??)

"Oh, baby," Steve coos, cradling Eddie's cheek and tilting up his chin to meet those beautiful eyes. Blown and black, the red glow beneath them pulsating in time with his heavy breathing.

This magnificent creature, more Kas than Eddie now, is strong enough to tear into the world and rip it to shreds. But always so docile for him. Always so lovely. Steve licks his lips as he trails his gaze down from wide eyes to plush lips, a trickle of blood drying on his pale skin that always seems to gleam in when Steve touches him like this. Tenderly. Lovingly. And with promise in his fingertips.

"You're no monster," he promises, daring him to disagree. He watches with fascination as a pointed tongue slowly, carefully licks up the remnants of Steve's blood. "No, you're no monster," Steve coos again, tilting Kas's face up higher to trail his lips along his jaw, kissing his way towards his chin and up the trail of wetness left behind.

Has whimpers, ducking his head just a fraction to chase Steve's lips and ask for a kiss, but Steve pulls back with a chuckle low in his throat, his grip on Kas shifting down to his throat as he moves in, hovering above him.

It shouldn't be possible, because his physical form has several inches on Steve, but something about him is always so small in Steve's hold. Like he's molding himself to Steve's figure to be so, so perfect for him.

He hums as he almost lets their lips touch, aware that he's driving Kas wild with it, and thrilled to have him like this. To hold him, hand around his throat, and tell him, "You're my good boy, hm? You're my good, good boy, isn't that right?"

Another whimper, and Kas shifts against him. Not to move in for a kiss, but to grind against him, rubbing his half hard cock into Steve's leg.

Steve chuckles again, a wave of fondness overcoming him as Kas takes what he wants. What he needs. Rubbing off against him were weeks and months ago, he would stand still until the shaking started, and Steve would have to bring him from the edge with gentle touch and loving words.

He trails one hand down to his ass to help him, to take control and give him a better angle. The effect is immediate as Kas lets out a guttural groan and pants, moaning around the syllables of his name.

"Yeah, you're doing so good, baby, taking what you need. You're so good. So good for me."

Kas nods, leaning their foreheads together as he loses himself in the delicate friction, and Steve finally relents. He ducks his head and claims those lips, moaning as Kas's sharp fangs catch his lip, drawing more blood and adding to the mess on their lips.

His resolve breaks when Kas's moans rise in pitch and frequency, knowing this is not enough for him. Knowing he wants to give him more. Steve reaches down, past the thin fabric of sweats Kas is wearing, and finds his magnificent cock, hard and leaking for him.

Always, always for him. They moan in unison as Steve begins stroking him, sucking on his tongue in time with the movement of his hands, rendering Kas almost motionless as he loses himself in the pleasure.

One day, Steve things, he'll have him writhing on his bed, hand fisted in his sheets, tearing them to shreds as Steve fucks into him with slow deliberation. Fucking the monster out of his memory and leaving only human remains, cock dumb and high on it. His name falling from those lips, blood-smeared and plump, the only thing these walls will hear aside from Good boy, and You're so good for me, and Fuck yourself on my cock, baby.

He'll take his time.

Soon.

Tonight, he doesn't get the luxury of taking his time as Kas grows desperate against him, coming with a keen as Steve bites down on his bottom lip and pulls.

"So good, baby," Steve pants as he strokes him through it, milking from him every last drop before bringing his hand up to those lips, kiss-swollen and blood red as they close around his fingers, gratefully licking up the come Steve feeds him.

That sight alone is almost enough for him to come in his pants, too, especially when Kas looks at him like that, pulling off his fingers with a slurping sound. Looking at him with hungry, hungry eyes that were made to destroy the world and rewrite history.

And yet all they do is give. And build. And smile, as he falls to his knees and pulls open Steve's belt, swallowing his cock to the hilt, massaging him with his fingers, his tongue, and vibrations that run through Steve's whole body until he, too, comes with a drawn-out groan.

He pulls Kas to his feet, combing his hair out of his sweat-slick forehead and having him meet his eyes with a gentler hold on his chin this time. "Say it."

Kas hesitates for just two seconds before a smile blooms on his face and he ducks his chin a little. "Good," he says. "I'm a good boy."

Steve hums around a smile himself, drawing a nonsensical pattern into the overheated skin of his cheek. "Whose?"

"Yours."

nonnie asked, i felt inspired. might turn this into a Thing.

[zephyrchama]

Quick Leviathan fluff that got out of control (1.4k words). SFW with suggestive aspects, MC's gender isn't mentioned.

---🧵🪡---

Ever since the release of the new Hana Ruri: Transparent Tarot Arc promotional video, Leviathan had make himself scarce. He'd erratically come out for food once in a while or grab an Akuzon package within minutes of it being delivered, but you hadn't received so much as a text from him in a week.

A mechanical whirring sometimes emanated from his room - the sound of a sewing machine at work. The occasional Sucre Frenzy song would accompany it. Nobody was worried, but it at least let everyone know the Avatar of Envy was still alive. Sometimes you'd peek in to make sure he was okay and leave a sandwich at the door. It gets lonely without him though, and eventually you went to talk with him.

The room was chilly, with the AC cranked up high. Leviathan was sitting on the ground, facing the door but blind to everything except the materials in front of him. Rolls of lace and ribbon, jars of sparkling cabochons, cases full of colorful thread and assorted sewing needles. With an impressed "woah!" you moved some empty boxes aside and sat down across from him to get a better look.

He jumped. "Gah! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"I knocked."

"I'm busy right now. I have to finish this, it's almost ready." Leviathan glanced at his desk.

A nearly exact replica of Ruri's new PV outfit was laid out next to his PC setup. It was gorgeous. Each piece had been painstakingly recreated and carefully set out over the empty flat surfaces in his room. Fully lined with a glittering beaded trim. The base fabric had a high quality sheen even in the dim light of Levi's room, with satin stitched silk applique petals accenting the skirt.

You admired the handiwork. Then, you admired its maker. Leviathan was carefully stitching fabric flowers to a hat with intense focus. He relied on holding in small, shallow breaths to prevent his hands from shaking. He was blinking more than usual, fighting off the accumulated sleep deprivation. It marred his handsome face with dark eye bags.

You sat next to him for a while and stared. The usually shy Leviathan was too engrossed in his crafting to pay any mind. The more focused he got, the more he frowned, accentuating the wrinkles around his mouth.

"Yeah... you need a break."

"Not now." He picked up a thin awl and poked some holes where the seam was particularly thick.

Talking was futile, you quickly noted that nothing you said would make a difference, so you watched. Every few minutes, a portion of Leviathan's long bangs fell in front of his eyes and he'd blow them out of the way. He flinched when you gently swept them out of the way, as though he forgot you were there.

He huffed. "Like I said! I just have to finish this, so leave me alone. I'm almost done."

The exhaustion was clearly taking over. You hated seeing Leviathan like this, a cold grumpy shell of his normally warm and passionate self.

You intercepted his hand when he reached for another bushel of flowers. His fingertips were calloused and dotted with red indents from hand sewing thousands of stitches without a thimble. It looked painful. No wonder he was working so slowly.

"Levi..."

You lightly traced over his damaged fingertips before weaving your fingers together. You gave his hand a squeeze and his expression slightly eased.

"You're so soft," he grumbled, then fiercely shook his head. "I have to keep working, let go."

That was out of the question. You were determined to break him and force him to rest. You held on and rubbed your thumb on his.

"Ghh, stop!"

Leviathan could easily push you away, but he didn't. Instead, he raised your entwined hands to his face and pressed them against his cheek. "I'm so tired."

"I know."

"You smell so good. It's distracting."

"Thanks. Your dress is pretty."

"It's not... it's... not enough..." Tears appeared in the corners of his eyes. "I can't find the right iridescent fabric so the colors will look off in the sunlight, and my shoulders are too broad so the silhouette of the top looks weird. So to compensate I made the sleeves bigger with more poof but I had to add more darts and you can see there are more seam lines here than in the reference image. And the buttons would look better with a wooden texture but all I had on me to make them was resin, which bubbled on the back, so what if their structural integrity is weake--"

Levi eeped, stiffening as you leaned into a tight hug. You were glad he was talking to you. But he was overthinking, and frustrated. Stressed, and more than anything he needed to take a break.

You expressed as much, scooting back while holding his shoulders at arm's length. "You might think it sucks, but this costume is all you've been doing. You haven't looked at anything else in a week so you've got nothing to compare it to. It's so gorgeous, Levi. Every stitch. Take a break with me and I'll help you finish it in the morning. You'll see how amazing it really is. Okay?"

A tear drop slid down his face, he quickly wiped it away. Leviathan avoided your gaze by staring at his creation, unwilling to walk away while it remained unfinished. "I'm so tired," he repeated.

"Hana Ruri-tan would want you to take a nap. And I want you to take a nap."

Leviathan frowned again, having no logical way to refute that statement. You let him tidy up a few final things as you inspected his bed-tub.

Scraps of spare fabric dangled over the sides. You picked up his sheets to brush off loose threads, plucking out a few loose pins in the process. Pillows were fluffed. Extra fabric was put on a hanger and moved elsewhere. Rolls of ribbon were wound back up. It was kind of relaxing.

Leviathan was rushing to glue a rhinestone when you called him over, his last-ditch attempt to get one more thing finished. You let him spend another couple of minutes waiting for the paste to get tacky. Once it was finally secured in place on the hat brim, he thankfully didn't object any further. After wiping his hands clean he flopped magnificently into bed.

Not even five seconds passed by before he griped, "I can't fall asleep. I can't stop thinking about the costume. I should finish it now."

"Nooo, no, no. No. Move over, you're not getting up. I'm getting in." You slipped into the tub before he could pick himself up, draping your legs over his. "The hat can wait until morning. Then we can get pics of everything, too."

Leviathan sighed in stubborn agreement. His orange eyes, puffy and a little irritated, were looking right at you for the first time that evening.

"You'll let me think about you then, right?" he asked quietly. He wrapped his arms around you, one hand bunching up the fabric on the back of your shirt while the other grazed against your bare skin. His rough fingers traced along your spine. You made a mental note to help him bandage them later.

Pulling you flush against his upper body, he nudged his face into the side of your neck and slid his lips up your shoulder. You hooked an arm under his to gently comb through his hair, resting your chin against his head. It tickled a little, but you felt each passing breath get heavier and slower as your comforting scent lulled Leviathan into much-needed sleep. You soon followed his lead.

Come morning, Leviathan had you in a tight grip while you blearily woke up on top of him. His wandering hands had found their way up your shirt during the night and one of his legs was thrown over yours. You had planned the surprise of getting up early to finish his hat for him, but at this point a surprise morning snuggle was all you could manage.

"Hmmh? What... oh!" Levi woke quickly, with the intense determination of someone ready to finish the cosplay they've been crunching for a week straight. He looked so much better with color returned to his face. Too much color, perhaps, as the more he let go of you the redder his blush became.

"I'll be... uh... bathroom." He dragged himself out of the tub and quickly walked towards the hall, failing miserably to cover his blatant embarrassment.

"Wait! Can I start working on some things while you're gone?" you asked, motioning towards the nearly-finished costume.

Leviathan nodded. "Uh, yeah...? Go ahead."

"And you'll try it all on for me when you get back, right?"

With a full night's rest behind him and the finish line in clear sight, the giddiness of an exciting new cosplay was returning and Leviathan gave a cheerful "yeah... Ok, yeah! I'll be right back, so don't go anywhere!"

[thefrogdalorian]

A little love letter to Din Djarin writers... 🤍

I love that some of you write him as soft and gentle while others focus on the darker, harsher parts of his personality. I love that he can be both a quiet, kind man caring for his child or an intimidating, terrifying bounty hunter who is a lean, mean killing machine... depending on what the fic warrants.

I love how you write him with other characters from The Mandalorian or even with those who would never cross paths with him in canon, from Star Wars or elsewhere. I love how you write him interacting with yourselves and us, and some of you even create your own original characters to exist a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away alongside him.

I love that some of you ship him with that one other special person, while others recognise how desirable he is and ship alllllll the ships. Not forgetting those of you which are here for none of those ships and/or even headcanon him as ace. I love that any of those options allow you to explore your own identities and sexualities through him.

I love that you can write the most tooth-rotting fluff or filthiest smut, and all of those things in between. Whether it's for general audiences or explicit and strictly 18+ ... all of your fics have an audience and someone out there who appreciates your writing.

I love how differently you can interpret him, but there are also so many common themes and tropes running through your writing. I love that there is room for all of your Dins here.

I love that he means so much to you and that all of us here hold him in our hearts a little bit. I love that we can all watch the same episodes and come to entirely different conclusions about him. I love how much we love him.

Getting to be a part of this wonderful community and interact with so many people who love the space tin can man as much as I do has truly been one of the best things that happened to me recently. I'm so glad I made this little blog... It reminded me just how good fandom can be. I am blown away by the number of talented people here!

So, I just wanted to take a moment to express some gratitude towards all of you! Thank you for writing your Dins and please don't ever stop. Finally.... last, but not least:

I love Din Djarin!!!

[honestlydarkprincess]

[thevoidstaredback]

Okay, so, crisis averted. Both of them, really. Red Robin had not asked or attempted to get any more of Danny's drink and the World Ending Crisis was less World Ending and more World Threatening. Either way, no one is hyped up in lethal amounts of caffeine and the world is in no more pieces than it had been before.

That brings attention to a new problem, though. It's uniquely Danny's problem and Constantine and Zatanna and Deadman won't stop laughing at him. He's also pretty sure that Raven is laughing at him in the privacy of her mind, so that's making him feel worse.

The problem is that every single hero that had been at the meeting a week ago that was not a part of the JLD has been overly concerned about him.

So what if he half died when he was fourteen and therefore will never look over either fourteen or eighteen? So what if he consumes enough caffeine to kill an elephant within a few minutes? What is he gonna do, die? That's not a real threat as long as he only fights as Phantom.

Ignoring the fact that he can, in fact, get hurt to the point of near death as Phantom. It's not like anyone knows that, though! Besides, ghosts run on god rules. They can't die, only fade when forgotten. People aren't likely to forget about most ghosts, though, even if they can't remember their names.

He's not gonna share that, though. Let Batman keep his contingency that won't work because the only contingency that will work for Phantom is the one he made himself. Tried and tested! He's marked it off of his Bingo Card.

Anyway. Heros and their kids/proteges have been trying to track him down for the entire week. He can't risk even leaving the House of Mysteries because the Supers are all probably listening out for him and they can't hear him through magic. It sucks. He just wants to go get a cup of coffee as Danny. The second he leaves, though, the Supers will be on him like bloodhounds. He'd leave as Danny, but the rest of the JLD don't know what he looks like as Danny and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. Being stuck as Phantom was going to start causing issues to his human half if he doesn't get to leave soon.

Should he risk it? Is coffee that won't kill him really worth risking the Supers finding out his civilian identity? Sure, they wouldn't tell anyone, but he didn't like the idea of someone being able to pick him out of a crowd when all he wanted to do was blend in. It's why he avoided Gotham and Bludhaven, actually, but that's both self explanatory and another story for another time.

"You're still here?" Zatanna sat on the couch beside him. "You're normally gone by now. You can't not be tired of us yet."

He sighed and sunk down into the couch slightly. "Believe me, I'm tired of being stuck here, but I can't leave. I can't leave as a human because you guys don't know what I look like and, no offense, but I'd like to keep it that way. I can't leave as I am now because Superman will be on my ass quicker than I can blink!" He whined this time, "I just want a cup of coffee."

"What about your special brew?" Raven asked, coming into the room.

"I want to drink coffee as a human. That stuff will kill me if I drink it as a human."

"At least you know your limits."

"That sounded like a dig at someone, Z."

"It was."

"Why don't you just go out under a protection spell?" Raven offered, "We could cast one over you and you could leave. Superman can't hear through magic, so he won't be able to tell. Neither will Superboy."

Danny thought for a second. "You're a genius, Raven! Has anyone ever told you that?"

"A few times," she blushed.

"Well, it needs to be said more!"

Zatanna laughed. "Alright, kid, let's get you outside before you drive yourself crazy."

Practically vibrating in place, Danny waited for the protection spell to settle over him. The second it did, he was out the door and wandering the streets of whatever city the House of Mysteries decided to drop him as Danny instead of Phantom.

"Who are you," was not the question or voice he wanted to hear the second he stepped into the open as himself.

"Danny," he squeaked out through his absolute panic. He didn't dare turn around.

The sound of fabric moving minutely clues him in to the second person behind him. What the hell were these two doing out? It's the middle of the day and there's no attacks going on anywhere in Gotham!

"Where did you come from?" Robin asked.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! This was really bad! Why did the House drop him *here* of all places? Does it *want* him to die again? It was very painful the first time, thank you very much! "Illinois?"

"Was that a question or an answer?" Why is Red Robin here now?!

"An-an answer?"

"Ah, you guys are scaring the little guy!" That was Nightwing. They're surrounding him! Why is Nightwing here? This is Gotham, not Bludhaven. "Give him some room to breathe."

They did not, in fact, give him room to breathe. Maybe coming outside was a bad idea. If he gets out of this no more dead than he already was, he was going to move to the middle of nowhere and become a hermit. Smallville is a town in the middle of nowhere, right? He'll retire as Phantom and move to Smallville until the people get suspicious and burn him as a witch-!

Maybe moving to a big city would be a better idea. Or locking himself in the basement of the House of Mysteries. Yeah, yeah that's a good idea.

"-even listening?"

Oh shit. They were still talking to him! Now is not the time to panic! "Gottagobye!" And then he was running.

Good job not panicking, Danny.

Part 1 Part 3

[captainjamster]

Hey if you're comfortable with it, do you think you write about how 141 would react to finding out you're ticklish? Preferably nsfw. Maybe they just tease you with it or maybe they have a session with you after a while and enjoy how it drives you crazy. It could be poly141 or just a drabble with each members reaction.

I love your writing sm

I'm sorry this took a while anon, thank you so much for your request!! This is the first time I've written about tickling, so I hope it came out alright. I loved researching this lmfao it's so cute

Pairing(s): 141 x reader (separately, not poly or sharing this time sorry! :p) Warnings: Bondage and restraint, tickling, tickling during sex Wordcount: 1.2k Summary: How each of the boys enjoy tickling you :p AO3 Link: Right here! <3

Full drabbles under cut <3

Price loves your laugh; just the sound can get him hard. Maybe you should’ve seen it coming from the first date. It was the first thing he complimented you on in the small bakery – heart eyes over the brim of his coffee cup that had your cheeks red, already breathless at the story between a cheeky sounding sergeant and someone’s poor dog. He stores every terrible joke exchanged amongst his boys, bringing them home just to fill your ears with them, to get anything from that exasperated little giggle to a shocked cackle at some of Ghost’s darker ones – the first time he hears you belly laugh, he writes the beginning of his wedding vowels.

For him, there’s a privilege in being allowed to bring you to such a vulnerable state, dazed and breathless, whether it’s scrabbling against the material of his shirt as you’re bent over in hysterics, hiding behind your hands, gasping for air at the comedy he’s been nagging you to watch, or between his thighs against the mattress, straining with hiccupped shrieks and pleads at his weight as he tortures your overstimulated skin. The only thing he uses is his fingers, and he’s stubborn about it, possessive of the tactile connection between his fingertips against your skin. The furthest he goes is a plug in your pussy, with a command to try and keep it there at the threat of a good spanking (though you both know you’re going to fail).

He challenges himself to make you come with just tickling – he neglects your needy pussy, wet and fluttering with arousal, until the delicate dragging of his nails down the plush insides of your thigh has you spasming around nothing.

-

Gaz, poor Gaz. Gaz, with blood under his nails he just can’t scrub, who sees someone’s face with every punch he throws at the bag. He’s heard the way his peers talk all throughout his service – spank their ass, slap their face, tight grip to the throat, till they ache.

There was only one part that ever stuck with him – till they ache.

The only time he raises a hand against you is to watch you squeal in anticipation before it flies down to your stomach, skittering up and down the soft skin as you twist and writhe against the sheets. It’s everything he needs – he can make you cry, beg, scream, with the whisp of a few touches, the softest of caresses. Tracing the marks that scatter your skin, only love bites and the imprints of restraint. On some nights, Gaz loves tying you up and tickling you, watching you squirm and contort against his ropes in an attempt to escape. The knots dip into your flesh, keeping your arms straight and pointed to the metal hook that meets the rope stemming from your wrists, legs spread wide with the thick bar anchoring your feet flat to the ground. His fingers dance over every inch of skin bare to him, honing to the areas you try to pull away from, watching you sway this and that way in peals of laughter as he switches between sides on your ribs.

Unlike Price, he doesn’t care for games – he’ll give you what you want. A toy, his fingers, his cock. Slow and steady, letting the rope drop a little to bend you at the waist, rocking back and forward into him, clenching down those slick and warm walls in sync with each ragged laugh. He doesn’t mind wielding a tickle wand, dragging the feathers up and down your thighs, your armpits, behind your knees. It’s not over until your eyes are puffy, cheeks tear stained as you sag under your own weight, kept suspended by the rope as your knees shake.

-

Soap becomes aware of your ticklish nature very quickly, being such a tactile partner. He’s always touching you – whether it’s an arm around your waist, foot rubbing against your calf, pinkies linked together – and it isn’t long before he unintentionally makes you squeal, accidentally brushing up against one of your most sensitive areas. The noise makes him jump, worried he’s hurt you, but when he sees the red of your cheeks and the shy smile on your face? Oh, it’s over for you.

“Y’ticklish, bonnie?”

He’s all a-grin every time, hands raising menacingly with wiggling fingers.

For a while it stays non-sexual, but poor Johnny can’t help himself. The tickle fights start to linger way past what’s appropriate, making home in his mind – how you get so panicked and squirmy, trying to get away from his fingers, your breathless laugh and gasps as his name whines so desperately from your lips. Your squeals rings through his ears during overdue paperwork in his late nights, so clear that he swears your lips brush across the tips of his ears, and Price avoids looking at him too closely as he turns in the files before leaving.

Sly, smart Johnny starts off slow. When the mood is playful during sex, he purposely rubs his hair and beard up against your neck, your back, feeling you pulse erratically around him with each giggle. He introduces it in increments, a foot in the door as you warm to the idea. Things really get going when he confesses, head buried in the crook of your neck as he groans how the way you flutter around his cock with each giggle brings him so close, and you can't help but laugh at that too. Poor Johnny comes harder than he ever has, and you can't help but want to indulge the glassy, lovestruck expression on his handsome face.

Unlike Gaz, he’d never restrain you - Johnny loves fighting you to stay still, caging you in or dragging you back by the ankle into his reach.

-

For Ghost, he loves the chase and anticipation beforehand, and his favourite way of being a pest – catch him brushing against just the right spot to make you jump and squeal as his arms slip around you, or his chin nuzzles into your neck.

But it starts with a morning of productivity, taken with your own domestic chores in a quiet co-existence. He’s finished a spot-tidy, bringing some discarded rubbish and checking on you in the kitchen. You’re unsuspecting, caught up in your respective daily activities, fixated on the job in front of you – and something hits him. The way you bob along happily to the music in your head, scrubbing at the dishes with a sway in your hips, caught up in your own world. Your happiness is magnetic, beckoning him and basking him in the same warm rush of dopamine. A light bubbles up through his body, something that forces its way from the depths of his chest more often when you’re around, and his feet are moving towards the kitchen before he thinks twice.

“Hey love?”

You hum questioningly, putting elbow grease into a particularly stuck blemish from the morning’s dishes.

“Got somethin’ for you.”

You finally turn around, soapy hands in the air as droplets cascade from them. Simon gives you a second to stare quizzically, watching your expression morph into a pleading grin as his hands creep up from his sides, fingers curling over into a leering grab.

“No! I’m washing dishes, please!”

His grin widens, fingers wiggling threateningly. “Then dry your hands.”

Your hands fall to your shirt, squeezing the material as you ready yourself to bolt. He squares up, arms outstretched, but he doesn’t close them as you swoop by close enough, out the kitchen in a mad dash. Though the chase is superficial, it doesn’t stop the thrill that jolts him with each impending step, following you through to the loungeroom. The sofa keeps him at bay, circling each other in a practiced synchronisation around the furniture as you feint left and right, keeping him guessing which way you’ll take off.

You bluff right to distract him from your plan to run the other way, but Simon lunges left anyway. He’s faster than you can think, reading the tensing of your muscles, and unable to rectify your charade as you scramble, his arms clamp around you in a swooping grab.

And as you gasp and giggle underneath him, something stirs to life.

dividers by cafekitsune

[sea-buns]

wow... what a season. it feels weird to say that this little 6-episode side quest, in all of the 19 seasons of d20, is one of my favorites they've ever done but it just is. it had all the stakes and humor and drama that you could possibly want, all balanced with an incredible cast of players. the table chemistry was excellent, the characters were so perfectly themselves, the TROPES were OFF THE CHARTS!

i can't quite remember the last time i finished something and ached so sharply for there to be more. i just know I'm gonna be thinking about this one for a long time

[ktchie]

'Keep your mouth shut and your legs open'

Ted lasso x Reader

Smut and fluff

♡other tags: p in v, unprotected sex (don't do it or you'll die), cunnulingus, cum eating, vaginal fingering, soft dom!Ted, praising and degrading.

♤2.6k words

◇ y'all fuck in his office, what more do you want?

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Stop squirmin' so much, sugar" he mumbled in your ear, hot breath making your stomach coil. "And keep your pretty litte mouth close, don't want others to hear ya' but me"

You sat on his lap, legs wide open and slung on either side of his thigh. His fingers deep in your cunt, wet with slick and his spit.

The sounds of your pussy was filthy, soaking his khakis with every move of his arms. It makes your ear go hot and toes to curl. The image of you spread out on his office with your bare cunt weeping wasn't helping you either, it makes you feel dirty, like some cheap slut for him to use whenever he grew bored.

"Take a look at that" he spread his slick fingers apart in 'v', two web of precum connecting in between. "ain't it pretty?.." he then suck it with a loud pop "sweet too, makes me wanna put my whole face deep in that pretty cunt of yours, can I?"

You nodded your head mutely, brain could barely form any words aside from moans and whimpers. Ted chuckled at you before pressing peck on your cheek, sweet and gentle as if he wasn't breaking you apart on his lap with his fingers shiny with your slick.

"Gonna put you down yeah? Sit you 'ere on my spot so I can kneel down" Ted did exactly what he told you, carrying you as he stood up before putting you on his office chair, panties on your ankles and your skirt somewhere on the carpet.

He kneeled down slowly, his once innocent eyes bright with pure happiness and adoration were now darken with lust, almost wild, like a man starve. He stared at the spot between your things "Look'a that" four fingers touch your cunt, smearing your juices and making a mess. " 's pretty, and all for me ain't that right, hun?"

You nodded your head, almost squealing when Ted push your thighs apart, putting them on the arms of his office chair and leaning close to your cunt. "Need your words, baby doll. Tell me its all f'me"

" 's alll yours" you said almost in daze, your hand gripping your shirt thight halfway to your belly button. He had told you to do it earlier, command you do it so he could see his fingers disappearing in your pussy.

"Thats right" he mumbled before he blew on it, smiling as you shivered.

"This what you want, sugar? To be spread out in my office where everybody can walk in and see you actin' like this?" He lick a slow stripe of your cunt, you whimpered lowly. "Bet it is, hm? You've always been the filthy one. Even humpin' on my cock when I told you not to, who would have thought my perfect girl could be so disobedient?"

You feel like you were drowning, his words almost like a fleeting whisper as you sat there, chest panting and mouth agape. He was breaking you, pulling you apart until you turn into nothing but a toy for him to use. You clamped your mouth shut when you felt him lick you, poking your clit from the hood of your pussy before sucking it on his mouth with a filthy sound.

"Mhm!" You moaned through your palm, arching your back and gasping when he push it back down.

"Stay still" he ordered before diving back in, not even giving you a second to breath. He captured your clit between his lips, pulling  before sucking it, even going as far as to pressed his face further and lapping at your cunt. His tounge now on your throbbing hole, slurping any slick he could taste with his nose bumping your bundle of nerves.

"T-ted!" You moaned loudly as he started to aggressively eat you out, lapping and sucking like a man deprived of anything good in his life. He's tasting you like it would be his last, as if there's a noose around his neck ready to pull at a drop of a silver pin. "S-shit!" You threw your head back and slithered your fingers on his brown locks and pull, he groaned loudly as you did so but did not relent his actions.

Your pussy is fluttering at every poke of his tounge, your slick dripping down on the leather chair and towards his chin. He was a mess but the way he looks at you made you think he actually loves being dirty like this. He pulled away to kiss the inside of your thighs, lips shimmering with your juice and his spit.

"Stay still for me, would ya?" He had asked before pulling both of your thighs forward and making you slide down - you're half hanging on the chair and half laying down. "There we go, sweetheart. Be good f' me. Let me make this pretty pussy cry hm? Give you what you been wantin' for" he kiss your cunt briefly before he took two of his fingers and slowly push it in, you groaned loudly before pressing a palm on your mouth.

"Shhhh, I know. But you gotta keep quiet, alright darlin? Don't want those boys hearin' you while I'm fucking your cunt." He stated lowly, eyes stuck on the way you swallow his fingers, as if your pussy was hungry for everything he can offer."So fuckin' wet, sugar. Should have punish you y'know? Comin' on my work with that short skirt on, teasin' me and pretending you don't know a thing when I called ya out" he clicked his tounge with that stern tone that made your stomach coil and pussy throb. "Youre lucky i love ya' or else ill have ya on my knees right now, that sweet ass red from my palm and crying pretty tears. But I dont wanna hurt ya'" he licked his lips as a slick drip down from your pussy "can't have my pretty girl suffering, I don't think my poor heart can take it" he said before leaning down, capturing your hard clit on his mouth and giving a loud hard suck that had your thighs shaking and back arching.

"NGHHH!" your moans were muffled by your palm, eyes rolling back and jerking on every thrust of his hand.

Ted pry your thighs apart before his palm pressed on your lower abdomen, adding to your sensitivity and the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and ecstasy. He pulled away from your cunt, his hands slowly going faster and reaching for that hidden nerves that made you want to melt.

"So fucking pretty like this, darlin'" he praised you while he ruin you. "Such a pretty girl" he pecked your lips but you didnt have the right mind to even respond properly, you are out of it, your mind nothing but empty air and your body knows nothing but pleasure. He pressed his face into your neck, inhaling your scent as he put his other hand on the wall to keep him grounded while he fucked your pussy roughly. He groaned when you groaned and moaned when you moaned, he buried his face further into your throat, licking your skin and pressing to you close as you claw on his nape, you were shaking at this point, eyes closed and mouth agape.

His fingers were loud in your cunt, filthy and animalistic. He hit your spot at every thrust, chuckling at every swallowed sob of your blubbering mouth. "Too much hm? Better take it, you haven't even cum yet"

You keep your eyes closed tightly as you feel the coil on your stomach tightening, your pussy fluttering on his fingers, squeezing it tight and soaking it with your slick. You held onto him as you came, toes curling and teeth burried on his shoulder.

"There ya' go, that's my good girl, that's a sweetheart. So good for me, so fuckin' perfect" he kissed your cheeks repeatedly as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, not stopping even when your tears soak his shirt.

"Mgh! To-too sensitive" you had said but you chased his fingers when he almost pulled away. "Just a little longer, dolly. Wanna see you cum again"

You shook your head to say no, you could feel your cum dripping down the chair, could feel it stick to the inside of your thigh but Ted still didn't stop, only push forward. "Come on, darlin' you can do it"

"T-ted i-fuck, please I cant-"

"Yes you can" he kissed your forehead, lingering a little too long that you could feel your heart flutter. "Come on, I know you can do it. Just one more time, let go for me, sugar. Make me proud"

You came again with a silent cry, thighs shaking and eyes rolled back as Ted mumbled praises and sweet nothing in your ears.

"Good girl, there we go" he stated, his thrust slowing down.

"Love you, you did so good" he kissed you gently before pulling back, the fingers that were once buried in your cunt were now gone and you watch, with hooded eyes and heaving chest as he sucked it on his mouth.

"Ted.." you mumbled as you watched him undo his belt, the clashing mental echoing on the silent room as he watched you with dark eyes and a subtle smirk.

"Somethin' wrong, sweetheart?" He had asked coyly, pulling his khakis down lightly. "Ya need something?" He pulled his cock out of his boxers and it made you salivate, made you want to lean down and take it to your mouth, taste him like he had tasted you and make him fall apart.

"Fuck.." you whispered as you watch him thread his fingers to his slightly messy hair, licking his lips as he did so. Warm hands, almost enveloping the entirety of your thigh spread you apart once again, as if you're nothing but a toy.

"Keep those legs open f' me, yeah? Finally gonna give you my cock, sweetie. you'll behave, won't you?"

You nodded your head at his question, your pussy twitching at every movement he makes. His thumb caressed the skin in your inner thigh before he leaned down and spit on your throbbing cunt.

Your breath hitched as you stared at his large cock, dripping with precum and bobbing with need. It always makes you wonder how you can fit it in, how Ted makes you take it because seeing it now so so close, it almost seems like impossible.

"Dont worry your pretty little head, sugar" he licked his lips, lining up his cock on your sopping entrance. "It'll fit"

He thrusted slowly, gripping the flesh on your hips and thumb caressing your tummy. He groaned as as you clenched, holding on his arms as he swallowed the moan threatening to escape your mouth.

"F-fuck, almost there, darlin' almost there" he mumbled as he buried his face on your neck, mumbling curses as he move. His right hand push your thigh forward, folding you in half with a loud groaned as he finally bottom out. You moaned in return, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

"There we go, sweetheart. There we fuckin' go, shit- told ya It'll fit, you're fuckin' made for me" he growled and suddenly thrusted a little harder, hitting that hidden bundle of nerves deep inside you. It made you choke on your own saliva and whimpered loudly. "Pretty pussy, made just f'me ain't that right, princess?" He held your cheek between his hand before pulling you for a kiss, swallowing your moans. 

You gasped as he started to move a little faster, rocking the chair beneath the both of you. You feel so full, his cock stretching you so widely you know you'll feel him till morning.

"Feel me in here?" He ask as he pressed a palm on your tummy, chuckling when he felt a dull bump beneath his hand. "You do don't ya? Cock so big im all up your fuckin' guts, its a suprpise you can still keep quiet hm?"

"P-please" you almost sobbed pathetically as he continue to hit that spot inside of you that makes you want to bury your head into his chest and screamed. "P-please, Ted"

He cooed and grab your face, his thumb swirling on your wet bottom lip as you stared up to him with daze eyes and agape mouth, head filled with nothing but air and the pleasure of his cock. "What is it, darlin? Need something from me?"

You nodded dumbly, sucking his thumb into your mouth and groaning loudly when he moaned and thursted forward rather harshly. "Te-tell me what you need, come on-shit, come on sweetheart. Ya know ill gave it to ya, just say the word" he push his thumb forward, caressing the pad of your tounge before pulling it out and putting it in your clit. "Cum? Wanna cum, is that it? Does my pretty dolly wanna cum?"

"Y-yes, want to cum, please Ted please" you begged pathetically, tears brimming in your eyes from all the pleasure you're receiving. Your pussy practically weeping.

"Shhh, I know, I know. Aint gonna have to beg yeah? Don't have to, you know ill give to ya" he groaned and clenched your hips harder. "Fuckin love ya so much ill give the whole goddamn world to you" he confessed before capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, Ted tasted like salt and sweet and love and promises you know you'll keep, you pulled him towards you and embrace him as his cock drilled into your wet cunt, you held him so close you could barely breath. "I got you, sweetheart. Shi-shit squeezin me so tight" he held the back of your chair and started ramming into you fast, almost too much.

"Mmhh" he whimpered, thumb moving into your clit a little bit faster now and more sloppier. "M' close.." he whispered and put his forehead into you, closing his eyes "come with me, honey. Please" he begged so beautiful your heart ache, you nodded at his request and captured his face into the both of your palm before kissing him gently.

"I love you" you whispered and soon enough you were coming, your toes curling and your back lifting. Ted clenched his jaw and lightly pulled your hips up and started fucking you like it was his last.

"Fuck!" Soon enough he had come, throwing his head back and his hips stuttering. Whimpering and twitching whenever you clenched tight.

"S-shit, sweetheart" he breathed heavily before looking down on you, flashing you that love sick smile partnered with his blushing cheeks.

You grin up to him and kiss him passionately, soft and gentle and filled with adoration.

"Ya should come here more often" he had said with a cheeky grin, moving away to tuck himself back to his jeans before gently putting your panties back into you.

You scoffed "and you said I'm the dirty one"

Ted laugh lightly "oh well I guess we both have our moments. But um-" he looked down, suddenly shy as if he wasnt just rearranging your guts a second ago. "I would really love it if you come here more often and we dont hav'ta..y'know..just wanna spend time with ya, that's all"

You breathed a sigh and pull him close and kiss his nose. "Youre too cute"

"Does that mean you'll come again tomorrow?" He gave you his very best puppy eyes, the one that would make even the gods bend their knee.

You rolled your eyes affectionately "Of course ill come" you smiled at him slightly "I don't think I can sayo no to that pretty face"

He grinned cheekily. "I know"

Ted kissed your knuckles and you suddenly realize that you don't mind marrying this man and maybe even going into his work very day, seeing him like this is worth it anyway.