#brain rotting and wanting to write a get now

[moonstruckme]

hey, hope you're doing well! i scrolled through your blog for an hour and it feels so safe! i love love your writing! i was wondering if you could write something for reader x sirius?

compared to my family, i get a lot of dreams and most of them are nightmares (especially about death and/or murder). like, sometimes it's lifeless eyes staring at me and blood hardened on the carpet or sometimes it's a dead, rotting body hanging from a tree inches away from my face. and because me and my family don't have that "how did you sleep?" convo most of the time, (and because they don't just don't discuss their dreams) idk who to share this stuff with and it ruins my whole day + makes me uncomfortable and scared to sleep.

sorry, that's long but i was wondering if you could write something with that? like, the reader struggles/deals with that x sirius? no pressure! you can deny it if you want!

thanks★

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

cw: nightmares, semi-vague gore (not real, just mentioned)

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 710 words

The moon is at just the right place in its journey to let its light in through your kitchen window. It casts your home in hues of silvery grey as Sirius’ footsteps pad down the hall. His bleary eyes scan the room, quieting when they settle on you.

“Hi.” Your voice comes out quiet, though neither of you is sleeping anymore. “Sorry, did I wake you?” 

Sirius shakes his head. He pulls out the chair next to yours. His movements look heavy, like he dragged himself out of sleep to come find you and he’s still dragging now. “It was just cold,” he mumbles. 

Right. So, yes, but indirectly. 

“Sorry,” you say again, voice petering off into a shamed whisper. 

“Mmph, you should be.” You know Sirius is joking, though he says it grouchily, tetchy in the way he often is after first waking up. He props his elbow on the table and his cheek on his fist. “Thirsty?” 

You follow his gaze to the cool glass cupped between your palms. You’ve been drawing squiggles in the condensation, but you’ve not had one sip of it. Your throat feels too tight. 

“A little,” you say. 

Sirius sighs. It’s a soft sound, but still you look over feeling guilty, only to be surprised when his eyes are warm with affection. 

“Why are you out of bed, sweetheart?” he asks gently. “You’ve been gone awhile.” 

You feel worse thinking that Sirius had been waiting for you, though really you should have guessed. It would have taken him a while to peel himself out from underneath the covers, dragging his sleep-heavy self all the way into the kitchen. Just to find you. 

“Bad dream,” you admit in a murmur. 

“Yeah?” he prompts.

“I didn’t want to accidentally fall back asleep.” 

Sirius' chair scoots a tiny bit closer to yours. You’re sure he wants to be subtle about it, but that’s impossible when it scrapes loudly against your kitchen floor. A curl of amusement warms your insides. Sirius touches his leg to yours as though it hasn’t happened, an innocent, grounding touch. 

“What was it about?” he asks. 

You shrug. “Not really anything. There was a lot of gore, mostly. Dead bodies, people's brains spilling out, very…” You swallow. “Very detailed.” 

Sirius grimaces. “Sounds messy.” 

“It made me feel a little sick,” you murmur, looking back down into your glass. Moonlight wavers on the surface. 

“I’m sorry.” Sirius’ knee nudges closer to yours. He sounds, for all the world, like he really means it, and he also sounds a bit helpless. His free hand finds your thigh, thumb drawing back and forth over your skin. “That doesn’t sound like any way to relax at the end of the day, hm?”

You exhale a little laugh. It does some to loosen up the blockage in your throat. “Not really.” 

“Think you’ll be able to go back to sleep tonight?” 

“Not really.” 

“Okay.” 

You look at him. “Okay?” 

“Okay,” Sirius repeats, steady. Moonlight shines on his face, making his eyes look a paler blue. “We won’t go back to bed.” 

“You can go.” 

His lips curl. “As if it’s any good without you. No, you won’t get rid of me that easily. I go where you go, doll.” 

“I don’t want you to miss out on sleep because of me,” you murmur, remorseful. 

“We’ll sleep early tomorrow.” Sirius comforts you with a kiss to your shoulder. His lashes are still drooping with fatigue, but he looks genuinely unperturbed. “Do you want to have a shower?” 

You frown. “A shower?” 

“Yeah. You know, to get all the gore off.”

You frown deeper. 

“The metaphorical gore.” Sirius does a vague waving gesture with his hand. “Don’t get me wrong, you look and smell lovely, just, I thought it might help. We don’t have to.” 

“Oh, so we’re both getting in this shower?” you ask, something like a smile tugging at your lips. 

Half of Sirius’ mouth quirks up lazily. “Didn’t you hear me? I go where you go.” 

“I appreciate your concern,” you say, “but I don’t think I need your help getting off the metaphorical gore. Unless you wanted to join for other reasons.” 

“I’m sure I’ll think of something by the time we get in there.” 

[bitters-n-sweets]

what survived the fire pt. 3 — jack abbot x ex-combat-medic!fem!reader When something triggers you and brings you back to the past, Jack offers a solution, and hope for the future.

warnings: PTSD, reader gets triggered, inaccuracies in the ER and military world, not proofread, mdni masterlist part one | part two a/n: okay, I know I said last time part two will be the last, but as I was writing some angst, I got inspired to write this, and it would only make sense as a part three. pls don't hate me. it's not directly tied to the previous part, but it's the same history etc yada yada—what I'm saying is, there might be more parts coming, because I think I want to focus on reader's healing journey, to find her own life again, like Jack would want. that's why we're taking it slow baby. please bear with me, im so sorry for any confusion. so if anyone wants to be tagged for any upcoming fics about these two, please let me know ❤️

PTSD happening right after the cut

----

You know better than to let your guard down on the trauma floor. But sometimes it isn’t up to you.

It wasn’t even a big thing. Just the sound of a metal tray clattering onto the floor in trauma two. It echoed. In the wrong way. Like the clang of chains on a locked door.

Then there’s the slam of a gurney against the metal doorframe. Someone screaming something that sounded like Farsi. Someone else yelling for blood. A monitor screaming. And someone grabs your arm—just to pass supplies—and it’s not him, it’s not the captor, it’s not the desert, you know that, but it doesn’t matter, you flinch. Step back. Your body reacts before your brain catches up. Cold sweat. Heart racing. The corners of your vision closing in like they did when you were locked in that basement room with the stench of piss and rot.

You pinch yourself hard to keep you grounded, but it’s not working. You duck into the nearest supply closet before anyone notices you spiraling. The second the door clicks shut, you slide down to the floor, knees close to your chest. Tile cold against your scrubs. Your breath comes in quick bursts, shallow and sharp.

You’re fine. You’re not there. This is the hospital. Pittsburgh. 5 thousand miles away. You’re out. You’re okay.

You whisper it under your breath like a mantra until your lungs stop hitching and your heart rate slows. You stay curled there until your hands stop shaking. Eventually, you push yourself back to your feet. You lean against the wall for one last breath before stepping out and walking like nothing happened.

Your heart is still a little fast, but you try your best to ignore it and act normal. Though, you’re not doing a very good job at it.

“Hey, you okay?” Lena stops you, “You’re pale.”

“I’m fine.” You offer a tight smile.

You grab a tablet and busy yourself with charting. Something easy. A scraped knee. A crayon stuck in a kid’s nose. Anything but the trauma bay. You just need something normal—something that doesn’t smell like blood or sound like war.

Lena lingers. She doesn’t buy it. And she glances across the hall—right at Jack, who’s already watching you like he knows something’s off.

You manage to stay on your feet so far. You’re only 3 hours away until shift is over, and now you’re sitting in the break room, head in your hands, sighing because you can’t wait for the day to be over. You don’t want to go home. You don’t even know what home means anymore. Your apartment is still half-empty, barely lived in. No photos on the walls. No softness in the corners. Just a bed, a lamp, some unopened boxes in the closet. You haven’t had time. Or maybe you haven’t wanted to. It’s easier not to try.

You just need out. A reset. A moment to breathe. But even that feels like running. And you don’t even know what you’re running from anymore. The memories? The noise? Yourself?

“Hey.”

You blink, startled. Jack’s hand is on your arm.

That’s when you realize your cheeks are wet. You didn’t realize you’re crying, tears falling from your eyes. You wipe it away immediately, but of course Jack has already seen them.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting next to you.

“I’m fine.” You repeat the words you said to Dana.

“You’ve barely said a word all day,” he says. No judgment. Just observation.

“I’m just tired,” you murmur. It's not a lie. Just not the full truth.

Jack folds his arms, studying you with that look he only gets when he's worried and trying to respect your space at the same time. “You’re not just tired.”

You stay quiet.

“Come over after shift,” he says, gently. Not a question. Just a soft request. “We’ll order food. Watch a movie.”

You glance at him. He doesn’t press. He just waits. That’s what Jack does—he never forces anything, never demands, never corners you. Just leaves the door open, like he hopes you’ll walk through it when you’re ready. So you don’t argue.

By the time your shift is about to end, Jack can’t find you. He’s already got his bag and waiting for you by the exit, but you’re nowhere to be found. 5 minutes go by, then 10, then he curses. He should’ve known where you’d be. He races to the roof.

It’s quiet upstairs. The sun is peeking through, birds are chirping, and the wind is nice. You’re sitting at the edge, legs dangling over the side, staring at the sky like it might offer answers. You hear the door open, and of course you know it’s Jack.

He exhales, like he’s been holding his breath the whole time.

“Why is everybody taking my spot these days…” he mutters, trying for lightness.

You haven’t told Jack everything about those weeks when you went missing. Just enough. Just the basics. You always downplay it—say it was boring, say you were fed, say the guys were idiots but not violent. You leave out the way they’d pace in front of the door like wolves. The constant dehydration. The helplessness. How you weren’t sure you’d ever get out. And the worst part? how, when you finally made it back, no one really cared. No rescue mission. No debrief. Just a few awkward glances and a couple of half-hearted “glad you’re back” comments in the mess hall.

That’s when you knew.

Years spent thinking the military was home. Believing you belonged there. And then realizing—when it really mattered—they didn’t even come looking.

“You don’t have to be here, you know.”

Jack just sits next to you, lays his palm over yours. “I’m worried about you.”

You smile bitterly. “Did I ever tell you they never sent a rescue team for me?”

Jack doesn’t say anything.

“I know I was only gone for a month,” You sigh, “Maybe compared to others, that was nothing, but I thought they’d at least look for me.”

Your voice drops. “I still have nightmares. Every day, something reminds me. I can’t escape it.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore, Jack.”

Jack softens.

He doesn’t rush to fill the silence. He just watches you. The wind moves gently through your hair. The sunlight’s catching on the curve of your cheekbone, your eyes glassy but he can see you’re still fighting back.

“I think,” Jack says slowly, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, “that you know exactly who you are.”

You turn your head toward him.

“You’re the girl who saved me even though she was badly injured herself. The one I shared half a bottle of whiskey with. The one who sat with me behind the supply tent after hard days. The one who gave me her shoulder, even when you didn’t need to. And after everything that happened to you, you didn’t let it change you. It didn’t make you hard, mean, or cold. You’re not just the girl who survived.”

His voice gets quieter.

“And… if you ever forget who you are again, I’ll be here to remind you.”

You blink hard. The tears sting, but you don’t let them fall. Jack’s hand is still over yours, warm and steady. You thread your fingers through his.

“I’m tired of being okay when I’m not,” you admit, voice cracking.

Jack shifts, closing the space between you just slightly. He leans in, forehead almost brushing yours.

“Then don’t be okay. Not with me. I’ve got you. Always.”

You tilt your head, just a breath’s distance from him, and Jack doesn’t move—he waits. But you can’t, not when you’re still figuring shit out. So you look down, and Jack smiles, understanding, pressing a kiss on your forehead instead, letting you know he’s still there.

“Wanna go?”

You nod, a small smile now on your face.

You’ve been to Jack’s place so many times it’s almost like a routine to you. You know where his shirts are, you can differentiate the cups and plates cabinets, and Jack loves seeing you so comfortable in his place. You might not realize it, but every time you wear one of his shirts, curled up on his couch with a blanket and a comfort movie, he can’t help but smile. Especially when you scoot a little closer and lean on him without thinking, just because you’re cold.

He still thinks about the night you fell asleep on him during Interstellar, your face soft and calm, completely at peace.

When you walk through the door tonight, everything falls into place like it always does. You order food, then shower, then pick a movie and pour something warm—tea or whiskey, depending on the kind of shift it’s been. It’s looking like a whiskey kind of night.

It’s easy and natural. But it’s also a little confusing—this thing between you and Jack. You’ve liked him since the day you met him in the field. It wasn’t just admiration. There was something else, something deeper in the way he carried himself, the way he looked at you like you mattered.

Jack steps out of the shower with his forearm crutches and pajama shorts, damp hair pushed back, steam still clinging to his skin. His shirt is folded on the back of the couch—he’s waiting to dry off a bit more before putting it on.

You’ve already drawn the blackout curtains and dimmed the lights, softening the room into something cozy and warm. You bring him his glass and tap yours gently against it in a quiet cheers. The whiskey burns as it goes down, but you welcome the warmth.

That’s when you realize—he’s not wearing a shirt.

Your eyes catch on the way the light skims over his chest, the faint scars, the solid lines of muscle, his dog tags clinging on his neck. You swallow hard, pulse kicking up just a little, and then you see the scar on his abdomen. Your fingers reach out without thinking.

“Is this…” Your mind lingers to when you were pressing his wound with your hands.

“Yeah.” He says before you can finish your sentence. “You did a great job.”

You chuckle, fingers still tracing the scar tissue. You try not to let your mind go back to the memory too much. He’s here with you now. He’s okay.

Jack feels a little shy, with you practically ogling and tracing his bare skin like that, so he decides to put his shirt on, with the excuse that he doesn’t want to remind you of what’s in the past. He sits down on the L part of the couch, bringing his legs up and gently tugging you with him so you’re curled at his side.

You play the movie, snuggling closer to Jack because it’s cold, and you feel him smile when he kisses your head. It makes you want to lean into him, lean on him. You can feel his heartbeat racing—or maybe that’s your own, you can’t really tell the difference.

“We’re watching ‘Notting Hill’?” Jack reads the title. “Isn’t this a rom-com?”

“Yep,” You nod, “Comfort movie.”

Jack just nods back, not really caring what movie is playing as long as you like it.

Toward the end of the movie, you find yourself curled fully between Jack’s legs, your back resting against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. It had started with you complaining about being cold, and Jack muttering something about remembering to leave a blanket in the living room next time. But he hasn’t moved to get one, and truthfully, you think he likes this better.

“I'm also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

You gasp softly, just like you always do when the scene hits. When Will rejects Anna, again. You’ve seen Notting Hill a hundred times, and yet it still gets you every single time. Jack smiles against your hair, amused, watching you fall apart over a movie you know by heart.

“Why do you keep watching this if it makes you cry every time?” he asks, chuckling gently as he wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

You sniff, curling your fingers around his arm. “Because I have to cry. I don’t want to cry about today, but I still need to let it out. This... this is how I cope.”

Jack’s smile fades into something softer. He holds you closer, tucks you tighter into his chest like he’s trying to protect you.

“We can talk about it,” he says after a pause, his voice quiet. “If you want to.”

You shake your head. But the words come anyway. “I just… I just felt so alone.”

He doesn’t speak at first. Just strokes your arm with his thumb in slow, calming circles. Then he pulls back slightly—not away, just enough to reach for something around his neck.

You hear his dog tags before you see it.

“What are you doing?”

Jack slides the chain over his head and looks down at them for a moment, as if remembering something old, and smiles to himself. Then he gently loops the chain around your neck.

You hold your breath.

“Hold on to them for me,” he says quietly. “I can’t always be there for you if things get bad, unfortunately. If I could, I’d teleport to wherever you are whenever you need me, but… this is the best I can do for now. So they’re yours. For you to hold on to when I’m not around. So you’ll know you’re never alone, and I’m always here for you, even when I’m not.”

You stare at him, eyes wide in shock.

“You’ve carried enough weight alone,” he says. “Let me help.”

You hold the chain to your chest. “Will you keep mine?”

He nods, and you take off your own dog tags. Jack sits upright, and you loop the chain around his neck. He doesn’t take his eyes off you the entire time.

“Jack,” you murmur, barely louder than the hum of the movie credits. “I have to ask.”

He nods slightly, just enough to let you know he’s listening.

“Is this… sentiment?” Your voice wavers. “Are you doing this because you feel sorry for me? Or are we—” You hesitate. “Is this… real?”

Jack’s eyes find yours, and for a second he looks almost wounded, like he can’t believe you’d even question it. Then his gaze softens.

“Didn’t I promise you,” he says gently, “that it would just be us when we got out?”

You swallow hard.

“I’m not doing this just because I want to help you,” he continues. “I care about you. Maybe in ways you won’t understand.”

He pauses, thumb brushing lightly along your arm.

“This is real, sweetheart. I just… I don’t want to rush. Not with you. I want to do this right. But make no mistake,” his voice lowers slightly, “I want you.”

You don’t say anything else. You just nod once, barely, and curl closer into his chest. Jack wraps his arms around you without hesitation, his chin resting lightly atop your head.

The screen dims to black. What’s left is the sound of your breathing, the faint clink of your dog tags when you shift slightly, and the steady, calming rhythm of Jack’s heartbeat beneath your cheek. You hold his dog tags close to your chest, grounding you to the moment.

You hold each other in the silence, like it’s the only thing that matters. And for tonight, it is.

[dakusan]

hiiii, 🦋anon again

Every single thing you write makes my head rot even more deliciously, so here's what I've been thinking about this week (so many things I don't know which one to choose).

Vampire!skz, who likes it when you challenge their control? Even with such small things, but you know you'll drive them crazy in such a delicious way for your benefit...

I should be studying, but I can't get this out of my head right now...🙂‍↕️

🦋ANON. BACK. AGAIN. DELIVERING BRAINROT LIKE A BLOOD-SOAKED OFFERING ON AN ALTAR.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

WHO GETS OFF ON YOU TESTING THEIR CONTROL?

Bang Chan

He knows you're doing it. Every little tease, every smirk, every “what if I don’t listen?” He’ll chuckle like he’s unaffected—but his jaw clenches. His fingers twitch. And then he waits. Because Chan doesn’t snap. He lets you dig your own grave. “Is that what you want, sweetheart? For me to break character?” The second you finally tip him over the edge, you’re pinned to the wall so fast the air leaves your lungs. “Now look what you did,” he growls. “You wanted the monster? You’ve got him.”

Lee Minho

You test him just to see if he’ll flinch—and Minho? He smirks. He lets you dance on that thin edge of danger. He dares you to keep going. Touches you with just the tips of his fingers, dragging them up your spine. “You’re cute when you pretend you’re in control.” He’ll lean in like he’s about to kiss you—then whisper, “Run.” You don’t make it far before he’s on you. Fangs grazing skin. “You wanted to poke the wolf,” he hums, “so now you’ll beg to be eaten.”

Hyunjin

He tries so hard to stay gentle. Elegant. Composed. But you know how to unravel him—inch by inch. You say things like: “Is that all? I thought you’d be rougher…” And suddenly he’s not painting anymore. He’s starving. “You love doing this to me,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. And when he finally cracks? It’s feral. Veins glowing, fangs sinking in deep while he moans like it hurts to hold back.

Han Jisung (Normal Vampire)

You call him soft. You say he’s easy to fluster. And he is. That’s the problem. You lick your lips in front of him, and his mind goes blank. You whisper a forbidden phrase, and he’s growling in your ear before his brain even catches up. “You can’t just say things like that—do you know what it does to me??” You: “That’s why I say them.” He short-circuits. Literally starts pacing. Mutters things like “Don’t lose it. She wants you to. She wants to be ruined—WAIT—” Too late. You're already under him.

Felix (Abnormal Vampire)

You touch his neck and say, “Does this bother you?” with innocent eyes. He melts at first. Then you do it again. And again. And suddenly you’re on your back with a growl in your throat and your shirt halfway shredded. “Why are you so good at this?” he whispers against your skin. But even when he loses control, his touch stays worshipful. “You want me to snap, don’t you?” he murmurs. “You want to know what I sound like when I can’t stop.” You do. And you find out. He’s sunshine until he snaps—and then he burns.

Seungmin

You smirk at him across the room. Drop a “yes, sir” with venom. And Seungmin pretends he doesn’t notice. He’ll even raise an eyebrow. “Cute.” But when he’s had enough? He locks the door. No warnings. No pretence. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks, voice low, rough. “You think I don’t know your games?” You gasp when he grabs your wrists. “That’s right,” he snarls. “Try me again.”

Jeongin

He’s still learning restraint. Still figuring himself out. So you teasing him? Risky. You giggle when he tenses. Run your fingers up his thigh. Kiss his neck and say, “Don’t you want a bite?” His breath hitches. “You don’t understand,” he whispers. “I don’t know what I’ll do if you really push me.” But you do. And when he finally breaks? It’s all teeth and growls, body heat and chaos. And afterward—he shakes. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Tell me I didn’t hurt you—”

You: “Do it again.”

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🦋 Anon, you're not studying because you’re in vampire hell and guess what? I built the dungeon. You live here now. Come back anytime with more 🩸💋

[coconutdays]

please do NOT STOP yourself from writing more.

✩•̩̩͙*˚ MONDAY – GETO SUGURU.

summary : you have five days to ask your hot tattooed boss out. better make it count.

word count : 1.3K tags : tattoo shop owner!suguru, modern au, pining, workplace AU, fem!reader, smoking.

You nervously bit your lip as you considered going out the threshold, your right hand hovering over the doorknob as your thoughts went haywire. You knew what was behind – or rather, who was –, you knew you had to do something about it because you’d been having a stupid crush on the hot owner of your new workplace for a few months now and you just couldn’t seem to get him out of your system – and yes, it didn’t help that you literally saw him every day. 

But honestly, who could blame you? Heavily tattooed – logical, seeing as he literally owned a tattoo parlor –, pierced, with long black hair and sparkling brown eyes, he surely was everyone’s dream man come true.

You wanted to do it right, go right to him, act cool and mysterious, and subtly ask him out while he smiled sheepishly, cheeks red at your forwardness. 

But you knew you couldn’t, that all of this was in your head. For one, he was absolutely not the type to blush. He was the type to make people blush. Second, Suguru was the most popular one at the shop, and considering you also worked with certified heartbreakers like Satoru and Toji, it was something to say. But how couldn’t he be? He was sweet and charming, a smooth talker. He always had the right words and had to be the most patient man you’d ever met.

And of course, he was also smoking hot. It also didn’t help that all you managed to do when you came in less than a three-meter radius from him was act clumsy and stutter like a newborn learning how to speak. You were definitely aware of the situation. The fact that he was way way out of your league. And you’d have discarded the thought of asking him out if Satoru hadn’t infiltrated your mind and set your heart racing when he’d whispered to you that someone he knew was planning on asking his best friend out this Friday.

“I mean, have you seen the guy?” He’d said, a knowing smirk on his lips, “You have ‘till Friday to make a move, or you’re fucked.”

Today was Monday. 

It was Monday, and of course, you still hadn’t said a single word to him. Sure, you two often found yourselves talking about work, new designs you’d come up with, and you had made sure to come to him every time you needed some advice, – and surprisingly, he’d also started doing so, setting your heart on fire every time he came to you –, but that was it. You two had never hung out together outside of work, even though you often had nights out with the others.

You shook your head and turned the doorknob, deciding you were going to stop acting like a schoolgirl with a stupid crush because it was honestly embarrassing. But then you saw him and immediately went back on your words.

God, he was just so effortlessly perfect. Who were you kidding? You could never stop acting this stupid when he looked like this.

He looked engrossed in a conversation, slender hands busy taping against the screen of his phone, a small grin on his lips, and you immediately considered going back inside. You were cringing inside, wondering what you were thinking coming back there when he was clearly busy.

But superior forces must’ve had other plans for you, because before you could make a hasty retreat inside the shop, your foot caught on a loose cobblestone, causing you to stumble and knock off a stack of empty crates.

You froze, the crates clattering and crashing to the ground. If he hadn’t heard you before, he sure had now. You sighed, lifting your eyes to see him, a cigarette casually hanging from his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he beckoned you over with a nod and an amused smile. You looked left and right to see if he was calling someone else over, but quickly realized there was no one else outside. Your head turned to him, cheeks burning from embarrassment as he chuckled at your action. “Care to join me?” He added with a smile, before taking a long drag out of his burning stick.

You bit your lip and complied, leaning against the wall right next to him, as you tried holding in violent coughs, the smoke hurting your lungs. You were silent and must have been staring at the cigarette he was gracefully holding too intently, because he suddenly held it out to you, “You smoke?”

You melted at the sound of his voice, rich and gentle. And, no. No, you didn’t smoke. You absolutely didn’t and you’d never even wanted to try it.

So you couldn’t understand why the hell you were telling him that yes, you did, that you were an expert at rolling blunts at that, like you’d done this your entire life, when even the fruity smokes from fairs made you sick to your stomach. But… you didn’t want to tell him that no, that you found it repulsive at best. Besides… you kind of wanted to try it, now. See why he loved it so much. It couldn’t be that bad if he did, right?

You weren’t sure about that. But honestly, you didn’t even care if it gave you the chance to stand that close to him and share a moment, as short and insignificant as it may have been, with the man you’d been pining after for a while now.

You accepted the cigarette when he handed it to you, clumsily gripping it between two fingers as you stared at it hesitantly. You didn’t know how you looked right now, but you hoped you came across as at least a quarter as confident as he did. You know you didn’t, because as soon as you took your first drag, you started coughing uncontrollably, the smoke burning your throat as you gasped for fresh air.

“Definitely an expert at this, are you?” He teased, his focused gaze not leaving your form one bit as he took the stick back from your hand to place it between his plush lips. He took a long drag before exhaling the smoke in your direction, and his eyes crinkled with amusement as he watched you try not to cough it all out. His lips curled into a playful smile, tongue coming out to swipe at his bottom lip as he watched your flustered form. You were just so damn cute.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice lower, “smoking’s not for everyone. I’m sure you must be an… expert, at something else.” He winked, his gaze lingering longer than necessary as he took you in from head to toe before he met your eyes once again.

Your breath caught in your throat at the implication of his words, heart racing as you tried to decipher what he must’ve meant by that. Surely it was innocent.

…Right?

The man suddenly straightened up, his playful demeanor shifting as he glanced at his watch. “Well,” he sighed, “break time’s over for me.” He casually tossed the half-smoked cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his Doc Marten’s boot.

You nodded at him with a smile, but couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at the prospect of the conversation coming to an end so soon. This was the longest you’d ever found yourself alone with him, and you hadn’t even come close to asking him out. But before you could say a word, he met your eyes with a knowing smile. 

“If you ever want to experience new things, though…” he dragged out, hawk eyes not leaving yours, “you know where to find me.” The suggestion hung in the air long after the door swung shut behind him, and you let yourself slide against the wall of the alley, lightheaded. A few words from his soft lips had been all it took to make you lose your cool.

Oh, you were so fucked.

…And you still hadn’t confessed. Damn you, Suguru Geto.

AN : ok soo i actually haven't posted a fic about any fandom since like 2016/2017 so i'm back to stage 1 lmao. english is not my first language so i may update my posts sometimes to correct things a little too!! plus it hasn't been proofread yet bc it's 1am where i live rn so yeah. this os is actually meant to have followups, so if people like it i'll work on more parts for this (idk if this'll show up in searches since it's a new blog tho but oh weLL) (it was actually meant to be a drabble but i went overboard) (i still had to force myself to stop writing more)

[myokk]

✨MASTERLIST✨

(fanart, longfics, oneshots)

Welcome to my blog!!! Here is my masterlist of ALL of my little sketches, artwork, writing, and general brainrot related to Hogwarts Legacy💘

🌿 - Madeleine / Maddy / myokk

🌱 - AO3

🌿 - likes and follows come from my main blog, @oerflink, because this is a sideblog (🥲)

🌱 - Eloise Babbit, my MC and basically the whole reason for this blog🫶 I don’t necessarily view her as the game’s MC, as my fic is quite canon-divergent and she is sweeter than the evil gremlin I played in-game😆💓 [link to her character sheet]

🌿 - my art tag🫶🫶🫶 here you can see basically every drawing I've done since joining the fandom!

🌱 - tag for all of the art the lovely people here have gifted me🥹🥹🥹 I feel SO honored whenever anyone takes time out of their day to think of me and draw my little gremlin♥️♥️

🌿 - I am taking oneshot requests! The link gives a bit of my guidelines, if you’re interested send me an ask🫶

Writing:

Before It Felt Like A Sin (AO3 / tumblr - ongoing)

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC, canon divergent, longfic, wip, dual pov Eloise/Sebastian

Summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

Tags: slow burn, angst, magical theory, mythology references, pureblood culture, occlumency, legilimency, hurt/comfort, family dynamics, eventual romance, eventual smut, sacrificial magic, blood magic, dark magic rituals, implied/referenced child abuse

[coming soon] - an excerpt from the Ominis longfic I’m working on💘

Oneshots:

clumsy (AO3 / tumblr)

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 9,1k

rating: E

summary: sebastian is clumsy.

or: two stubborn brats make things more difficult than they have to be.

cw: fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, two really stubborn idiots in love to be exact, sir cadogan guest appearance, anne and imelda are the gremlin best friends every girl needs, smut (18+ ONLY), oral (f. recieving), no y/n

note-taking (AO3 / tumblr)

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3,6k

rating: M (language and sexual themes)

summary: mc loves flustering sebastian with her notes during class😇

cw: NONE this is just fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, it takes a while for them to admit their feelings, I rated it M for some language/sexual themes

marry me (AO3 / tumblr)

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 5,4k

rating: M (not really explicit loss of virginity)

summary: in which Garreth Weasley has a potions mishap that causes MC to become incomprehensibly proper, and Sebastian is going mad.

cw: fluff, mutual pining, giant squid guest appearance, marriage proposal, loss of virginity RATED M (not *really* explicit) smut (18+ ONLY)

legilimency (AO3 / tumblr)

pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC

word count: 1,7k

rating: M (language)

summary: (His parents and Marvolo insist it’s a gift handed down from Slytherin himself, just like the Parseltongue Ominis despises. It is not. It is a curse.)

or: The Gryffindor student has caught on that Ominis can read her thoughts and decides to get her revenge.

tags: ominis is a natural legilimens, he is entirely too introspective, fluff, no y/n

remembering the snow (AO3 / tumblr / tumblr (old))

pairing: Imelda Reyes x Poppy Sweeting

word count: 3,3k

rating: G

summary: Imelda remembers the first time she saw snow.

Her parents always started the story telling her that she cried and cried and cried.

or: a character study on Imelda and how she grew up because I love her & she doesn't get enough appreciation :)

tags: character study, fluff, romance, first kiss, emotional hurt/comfort, I just wanted to write a sweet story & explore Imelda as a character

Illustrated scenes:

(aka where I illustrate little scenes from my longfic and oneshots💓)

🌿 - the summer before Sebastian and Anne’s first year at Hogwarts🥺💓

🌱 - Sebastian hates Eloise’s guts😳

🌿 - Eloise is really, really bad at chess😔 (this scene always makes me laugh SO MUCH)

🌱 - right after the pensieve scene🫶🫶🫶

🌿 - Eloise and Sebastian’s first kiss😇😇😇

🌱 - some angst after their first kiss😇😇😇

🌿 - sebastian overthinks things a lot😔

🌱 - an excerpt from my oneshot, clumsy💘

🌿 - another scene from my clumsy 🫶 I really love writing Sebastian’s pov & this was just so much fun to paint and write😫💓

🌱 - Eloise and her mother😔

🌿 - Eloise is NOT flustered by Sebastian😤

🌱 - late night in the common room 🫠

🌿 - comic of note-taking 😇

🌱 - right before *that* scene in clumsy 🫶 (as requested by Mallow bc of the lighting🤭)

[zinniapetals]

Oikage my dearly beloved why am I thinking about you in the year 2024

[lia404]

"Ai, living has no answer."

"When we're in pain, we search for an answer to feel better. A concise, absolute answer. But if you really want an answer… it's that there is no answer. There are no absolute in this world. Even if we think there is, in the end, it'll only make us feel better for a moment.

If there are no absolute, then what's left?

Bonds. Bonds between individuals. Bonds between one another. That's all there is.

That also changes with time. A huge trigger can cause a huge change. Bonds may be severed. But new bonds can also be formed. So living is a series of bonds.

That's what life is.

I have to do that forever?

Yes.

That's a lot of work.

Yeah.

I'd need to be so strong.

That's why people become stronger. That occasionally leads to conflicts. But even if that happens, we have to keep fighting. Keep searching for bonds, even if there's no answer.

You can't rush living."

So I saw on MyFigureCollection that October 13 was maybe possibly Yusaku's birthday, although I couldn't find any reliable source for this. I'd have loved to do something nice and light-hearted for the occasion, but I'm still feeling too strongly about it all. So here you are instead: Happy (maybe) Birthday, Yusaku! Please have some trauma to go with your trauma. Here's to another year of fending off expectations and looking for your own life and its non-answers with eyes wide open and always filled with hope.

[verdantglow]

Fuck it, time to be loudly cringe & find my 30 weirdos.

Trafficstuck AU

Because even 12 years after starting Homestuck, I still found myself in bed one night, trying to sleep, but unable to because all I could think about was Griann <> Gudtym Wiscar.

(I’ve got so much figured out for this AU that I don’t know how to share. Please send me asks about your fave/anything you’re curious about so that I can have some direction for this lore vomit!)

[carpetbug]

WHAT DO YOU MEAAAAAANNNN I have to actually WRITE feline blue for people to know about it and be interested in it :/ guys read my brain already! can’t you see all of my incredibly coherent thoughts about bug boy and cat girl! sad face!

[maybege]

btw i am still alive now that i have recovered from swiftkirchen and i hope you are all doing super well this summer! i am FLYING through my reading list atm which is amazing and i am feeling more and more inspired for things (footballer!paz anyone? roommate!paz as well maybe?) so hmu in the inbox it is TIME TO THIRST

[hana-bobo-finch]

jørgan clan my beloved. you guys are so messed up

[carrionhearted]

Being so sick so often means sometimes I feel like… I’m in my body, feeling all my abilities atrophy and slip further away from me, while I can’t do anything but sit with the horrible awareness. Waiting til I “get better”.

The scariest part of being so exhausted constantly, stuck in this unmoving limbo… is the question of in the future, even if I get my energy back, will the abilities still be there waiting for me?

[memuntos]

INTRODUCING HITOMI ARAKAWA — a persona oc, adaptable to other verses. hitomi is a student at shujin. when she started her first year at shujin, hitomi was quick to join cheerleading. despite her newfound popularity and rapid climb in the social ladder, no one could get a read on her and many questioned her eagerness to join a club before she had even settled in. girls gossiped that she just wanted attention and boys whispered about her flirting with boys on the sports teams. but no one truly knew anything about hitomi.

when second year rolled around and the new kid joined their class, she uncharacteristically avoided him like the plague. known for her friendliness, most people thought it was because she believed the rumours about the delinquent new student. soon after, whispers about kaneshiro spread throughout the school and hitomi began skipping out on cheerleading practices. it raised questions but she always had an excuse at the reason. the reason hitomi pulled back from her involvement in school was that hitomi’s family was tightly connected to kaneshiro and cheerleading had been her way to recruit more students into kaneshiro’s scheme. it wasn’t something she did of her own will but having been threatened by both her parents and kaneshiro, hitomi thought she had no choice. when she caught wind of kaneshiro being a potential target of the phantom thieves it piqued her interest. she believed it was finally her way out of her parents criminal background that she so hated.

when she saw the photograph of the four students that had stumbled into kaneshiro’s club, hitomi started doing her digging. she confronts them about what they were doing there and tells them that she can give them an insider scoop on kaneshiro if they let her into whatever they’re doing. this leads to hitomi joining the phantom thieves. her confidant card is the aeon confidant, a direct parallel to sae nijima’s role as the judgement persona as they stand on opposite sides of the legal world. her persona is a fallen angel and focuses primarily on her repentance of her and her parents’ crimes. however, even after the phantom thieves defeat kaneshiro, hitomi doesn’t pull out entirely from the criminal underground. her parents begin to maintain a lower profile for a while in fear of arrest and hitomi uses her connections to keep the phantom thieves informed of potential new targets.

[danidoesathing]

I agonized over which to pick because I just want to ask about all your fics in progress!! I narrowed it down to two and that's just going to have to be ok

the world is staged and the script is set (you cannot change the ending)

Jukeboxes and Maple Syrup

its very funny you pick those two because those like. two of the only three on that list that ISNT lord huron related lmao. those are both hatchetfield fics ive started in secret. regardless those are the main ones im working on right now SO

the world is staged and the script is set (you cannot change the ending) is a fic based on the ending of TGWDLM where like. you know how in the credits where Emma starts begging the audience for help? and like. you know how in TTO how the audience is also referred to by Bliklotep's title? soooo the fic is the ending but i throw him in the mix and ramp the already existing horror of "begging for help and being ignored a cheering crowd" by going "realizing said crowd has been treating your suffering and death as a source of amusement right before you die". only fun times in hatchetfield

"She stumbles to the edge of the stage. The stitches in her leg have come undone and there’s blood seeping through the bandage. That is real. Emma is real, and she needs to help right now."

Jukeboxes and Maple Syrup is a fic that takes place directly after the end of Yellow Jacket that focuses on Daniel and Sophia like. right after the ending. we dont really see them after the Otho fight and we still have no clue is Sophia is even ALIVE and also i miss them dearly. the fic mostly focuses on Daniel trying not to have a panic attack in Miss Retros because one friend is missing after almost dying and the other is in the hospital after also almost maybe dying and he doesn't really know what to do. Not a whole lot of plot it's mostly him trying to deal with that whole. mess. luckily he's got Miss Holloway and Duke to make things a bit easier (responsible adults? in MY hatchetfield? its honestly only these two but its better than nothing)

"He feels so stupid. Sophia is in the hospital and she might never wake up. Hannah is missing and could be kidnapped or dead or worse. And he’s just sitting here in a cozy diner with pancakes and orange juice, and Hannah’s Jacket but not Hannah and not Sophia."

[paintedonmyteeth]

When a discord server you joined in last month is deleting in 3 days and you’ve been having a massive fixation on Silent Hill for 3 months straight and you want to do writing or some roleplaying abt it but you have no fucking idea whether one of your friends is interested or not.

[hyaciiintho]

🌸｡*ﾟ+. Hey hey… link me to some memes you want sent in ♡ and if you want them from a certain muse of mine, please let me know~