#but! first I get to write the completely ooc part 2 of this fic ^^

[selfishdoll]

WHAT A WASTE ! ft. feitan portor ೀ ׅ ۫ . ㅇ

▌   you wanted it so bad, you don’t get to stop.  𐚁֙࿐ㅤㅤ it’s a shame, truly a shame; you being unable to contain yourself whilst your classmate examined your body for an assignment. but it’s fine, really— feitan doesn’t mind completing a detailed exam.

CONTENT WARNING(S) 𐚁֙࿐ㅤㅤ ooc feitan, please understand it’s been a minute since i’ve watch hxh & i’m going off my own interpretation plus a bestie’s. so if you expect him to be the perfect characterization you have the wrong fic | heavy degradation w/ minimal amounts of praise | strangers to ? (will there be a part 2.. maybe 🤭) | spanking | manhandling | usage of the words “slut, minx, & whore.” | all is consensual & feitan asks ofc | multiple orgasms | dacryiphilia | unprotected sex | creampie | cowgirl | reader is taller then feitan but he’s stronger then her | pussy slapping | overstimulation | hair pulling | softer feitan at the end? | impact! play | hints of sadist(?) feitan | accidental recording | feitan “threatens” to send the video to their professor (he wouldn’t actually do it, far too possessive..) | bitch is used once | etc. if i forgot something please let me know.

AUTHOR’S NOTE 𐚁֙࿐ㅤㅤ i’m sure assignments like these are not actually done but i got the idea randomly when seeing fanart of him. also expect more works of feitan, chrollo, & maybe the other adult characters except hisoka. also he wasn’t as mean as he should have been because i’m a very sensitive person & it shows in my writing 😭. and always please excuse any typos & grammar mistakes. 4K+ WORDS

Snap! The sound of the thin gloves had you jumping for a split second, eyes carrying away from the phone taking in your position on your bed to the man standing just a few feet away from you. Feitan Portor, a classmate you’ve never got the pleasure of talking to. Which wasn’t surprising at all, given he ignored just about everyone in class.

Eyes focused on his notes, the textbook, or glued to the images of the human anatomy your professor would plaster upon her smartboard. Those were the only instances you could remember of the unimpressionable man.

Yet now, here he was; in your room adjusting the gloves on his hand whilst you waited ever so patiently.

Becoming a surgical resident was a grueling process on its own, but having to work with the most quiet man alive just made it even worse. You felt so uncomfortable, wondering if you should speak or not— if it was alright to breathe.

As, no matter where you looked, said, or did; he seemed to be agitated.

Or maybe that was just his face, who knows?

A step in your direction caused the thoughts to dissipate, eyes flicking over to the man that stood off to the side of you. His eyes looked at you expectantly, impatience enveloping his gaze. Such intensity caused a sheepish sorry to escape your glossed lips, pushing off the slippers you wore with a hum. You then turned your body to lay across your plush blankets, arms stuck to your sides whilst your head rested on your pillow. A soft breath flew from your nose, tensing the moment he stepped closer.

The idea of the group project was being able to label the muscles of a human off paper. You were sure this type of assignment was for closer students but you drew the short end of the stick. Then again, it wasn’t too bad; Feitan didn’t seem like the perverted type— you highly doubted he would take advantage of such a situation.

His form moved closer, knees pressed against your bed as his hands hovered above you. Feitan’s eyes fell to your legs, mentally deciding to start there first.

Which.. wasn’t the best for you.

As his hands dragged up from his ankles and further; lips moving to utter the muscles beneath your skin— you felt a warmth brew inside you. Was it the feathery touches? Maybe you were touched starved even..

Either way, as he got closer and closer to your middle; you felt the heat threatening to spill over. Fuck.. you were done.

His hands were.. warm, the feeling seeping through the thin blue gloves he wore— large, a complete contrast to his smaller form, which barely reached your bust. They ghosted you perfectly, teetering between respectful and disinterested as they brushed your covered hip. Maybe you really were touch starved, or maybe an inkling of attraction towards the man rested deep within you. Either didn’t matter given the little gasp and flinch that escaped you was clear as day.

Feitan’s hands stopped just on your lower stomach, eyes snapping to your face. Oh, was he annoyed. Aggravated you had interrupted him whilst attempting to complete the assignment. Your manicured fingers bundled the plush blankets beneath you, lips parting slowly to speak;

“‘M sorry..”

“Your constant twitching is bothersome.” The man hissed softly, eyebrows brushing close as his face turned to glance back down your body. “A single touch and you’re trembling..” Feitan spoke, actions solidifying his words the moment a hand grasped your hip, thumb pressing into your plump, covered skin. The warmth you felt from his hand was stimulating, trickling between your legs— causing the plush limbs to push together. An action the man caught easily.

An annoyed sigh escaped him, hand withdrawing from your body whilst his eyes bore into your form. “What a waste.. getting aroused during an exam, specifically when we were so close to being done.”

“I am not.. I am not aroused.”

The man sucked his teeth at your words, eyebrows pushing even closer together as irritation formed his features. Feitan remained unmoving for a moment, simply staring you down before he leaned over, taking your cheeks in a tight grip and lifting you a bit off the bed. “So you’re not only a slut, you’re a lying one at that.”

A hiss tugged his words, fingerprints pushing into your heated skin whilst his eyes stared you down— daring you to deny. A stranger he was, nothing more than a classmate yet; here you were, so open and pliable for him. Staring up at him as if the venom spewing from his lips were the sweetest things ever.

Your head tilted down just a tad, gripping the sheets as you struggled to hold his gaze. “‘M not a slut either.”

“A pervert then—“ Feitan countered easily, fingers tapping against your skin while tilting his head. The moment your lips pulled into the tiniest pout a grin was pulling his own, thumb reaching over to press against your glossed mouth, “— is that more fitting? You laying here; waiting so desperately to be touched..” Feitan removed his hand from your face slowly, watching in amusement at the way you tried to follow his grasp.

“What a display really.. the only thing that is missing, is you begging.”

The anticipation welling inside you was threatening to explode, thighs pushed close as the heat rose within the room. Feitan enjoyed such a sight, piercing eyes taking you in— interest for once swirling in his irises. Finally, his eyebrows rose, even going as far as tilting his head.

Breath escaped you as you took him in, Feitan Portor your classmate and very much a stranger. And despite such formalities here you were, gripping the sheets, lips parted as pretty pleas escaped you.

Feitan sighed softly reaching down once again, taking your cheeks in his hand; a grasp you’ve already come to adore. “Speak up.” He hissed, fingers pressing into your hot chubby cheeks whilst his gaze never left you.

“Ple..please Feitan, please— I need you..” You cried out, eyes dipping down as the embarrassment settled in. Feitan didn’t allow this to settle for long, hand dropping to collect your chin more and pushing you to force the gaze.

“Need me?..” His tone was airy, a snicker even passing through his lips; such sound causing further shyness to trickle down your spine. “We’ve only just met.. just interacted,” Feitan drawled and not so gently pushed you to lay across your bed, crawling over your form. Your legs parted to rest on other side of him, gripping the sheets in excitement.

“And yet, you need me. Such a desperate thing, aren’t you?” Feitan dipped down close, hands pressed on either sides of your head, hovering just above your face. He watched as your eyes fluttered close, surely expecting a kiss. Instead his face was dropping to your neck, teeth sinking into your skin abruptly.

The hiss, mixed gasp that escaped you was loud, hands flying to his black shirt whilst he sucked and bit into your skin; dark marks forming from the attention. His hands moved across your body, falling down to your thighs— sliding under them to push them even wider. Once satisfied he was moving in closer, pushing your dress up to your stomach whilst using his free hand glide across your covered slit. Your hips rose to find friction, yelping the moment he pinched you lightly.

“Quit moving..” Feitan huffed, fingers pressing just a bit harder against your covered wetness, finding your clit and slowly stroking it. The little sparks of pleasure were sweet but barely enough, the burning impatience brewing inside you caused a whine to escape your throat. The dark-haired male clicked his tongue, eyes flicking from your thighs to your face. “Impatient slut..” He hissed, hand pulling from your covered, wet cunt.

You wanted to whine again, but instead— Feitan forced a sharp yelp out of you the moment his palm struck your pussy. Your thighs closed around his hand, tears springing into your eyes as the pleasure and pain combined into a single, sickeninly sweet feeling. The grin on his face was telling, clearly delighted by the high pitched cry that escaped you so freely.

A sound he chased; pushing at your thighs again and slapping the exact same spot. A wet sound entered the room, followed by an even sharper cry from your mouth. Your body rose up off the bed, cunt throbbing from the attention as your heart pounded against your chest.

A snicker, one far too sinister escaped the man above you, pushing your thighs back down to the bed. “Hurts doesn’t it?..” The humor was clear in his tone, pushing you even wider as his eyes trained on the prize between them. “As if I could tell, making such a mess all over your sheets.” Feitan claimed, reaching over and finally; peeling your ruined panties from your body.

The undergarment was tossed to the side, his thumbs pulling your folds as his eyes focused completely on your wet sex. Clit throbbing, hole clenching around nothing, you truly were such a mess.

“Feitan..” You spoke softly, nearly shifting under his gaze if it wasn’t for the quick glare he sent you. You decided to simply bunch your dress up in your hands, eyes fluttering closed the moment his fingers gliding across your abused slit.

Slowly, the man collected your arousal onto his still gloved fingers, the thin latex pressing against your wet cunt. And without warning, two digits were pressing into your awaiting hole; sinking all the way down to his knuckles. Feitan didn’t wait for you either, scissoring and thrusting them in and out of you— the soft squelches soon filling the room.

Your moans escaped you freely, acrylics gripping your dress as your legs threatened to close. His fingers hit all the right places as precise and calculated as he was with suturing. So perfect.. fuck, so so perfect; you felt your brain getting hazy, cries of pleasure escaping as his fingers pushed against your hot gummy walls— essence spilling with each push.

As if the pleasure couldn’t get any better his thumb lowered to your begging bud, teasing it for a moment just to hear you whine— right before rubbing harsh circles into the sensitive button. Feitan’s eyes captured it all, free hand gripping your other thigh to assure you didn’t move an inch.

If you wanted.. needed him so bad, you would be sure to take everything he gave you.

Once the third finger pushed in, you were thrown off the edge; groaning at the sudden stretch yet moaning as it worked in tandem with the other fingers. He played with you so easily, pushing spots with just his fingers— much deeper then your own has ever reached.

“F—fuck.. Feitan.. feels soo good—!”

Feitan grinned down at your display, listening to the breathy praises that continued to escape you. How you begged so much for a release, hips rising to meet the thrusts of his fingers; withering beneath him. “What a fucking mess..” He drawled, eyes flicking to his hand to watch your sticky arousal coating the blue latex. This only caused his expression to deepen, quickening the pace of his hand whilst hanging his head; mouth brushing against your ear.

“This was the only thing you were thinking about, weren’t you? The moment I walked into your bedroom, you were just itching to feel me.. such a perverted slut— [Name].”

His words, tone, the way his fingers bullied your insides; Feitan was just so fucking mean. Yet here you were, eyes rolling to the back of your skull while the loudest moan escaped you, making a mess of his hand. Your arousal trickled down his fingers to his palm, ruining his glove even further.

However, even as your orgasm raked through your body his fingers never stopped moving; pushing you further and further, sensitivity rising as breathy whines escaped you. Forgoing his threat from earlier, your hand lowered to his wrist. With each movement the muscle was tensing, your thumb pressed against his pulse to feel his rapid heartbeat— in sync with your own.

“Ca—can’t fuck it’s too much!”

Such noises fell on deaf ears, his pace continuing but not moving your hand. The man wouldn’t dare say he enjoyed your grasp around his wrist.

“Too much?..” Feitan mocked, gripping your thigh when you attempted to shut your legs. The pretty whines escaping your throat was answer enough, his eyes gleaming with excitement as his thumb continued working circles into your clit; fingers never faltering inside your wet walls.

From just his fingers, just his fingers you were so lost. A fucking babbling mess whose long forgotten the entire purpose of him being in your room.

Your stomach tightened, the feeling bordering on painful, as your next orgasm got closer and closer. Pushing through the pain, your hips rocked against his fingers, desperate for the euphoric feeling again— only for it to be snatched away the moment he removed his fingers.

Your clit throbbed, hole fluttering around nothing as your hazy gaze soon focused on the man between your legs. The annoyed moan that escaped you was shameless, lips slick with your saliva pushed into a pout. “Why’d you.. I was so close!” You spoke, watching his eyelids lower.

Feitan moved to hover over your body, hands sinking into the spaces beside your head whilst pressing his hips to your own. “Said it was too much, right? Or are you already too fucked out to remember?” His hips moved slow, grinding the hardon within his pants into your wet, uncovered slit, your essence darkening his bottoms.

You weren’t given a second to dwell on his words or even muster a reply. Because the moment his hips moved yours were as well, head knocking back against your blankets as the light pleasure danced up your spine; stirring you inside. Your hands rose to bunch his shirt in your fingers, shaking underneath him as the desperation oozed from your heated body.

Feitan’s hand rose, taking your braids in a secure hold, pulling your head up from the bed to bring you a breath’s away. “Humping me like some bitch in heat.. So fucking needy.” A hiss hugged his words, as if aggravated from your actions. However, he was far from irritated, far from angry— enjoying you far too much.

You just looked so pretty like this; wet trails running down your chubby cheeks, dress and blankets wrinkled, with your legs wide— a clear invitation to ruin you even further. The sight was.. unbelievable, one he was delighted to keep all to himself.

“Feitan, please..” You dragged, hips pushing against him more, craving the friction and something else. He should have slapped your thigh or even pinch you for your impatience but fortunately for you, Feitan was just as needy. A huff escaped you as he released your hair, hands dropping to your hips. You silently questioned this, only for him to pull you up, you in his lap with his legs hanging off the bed.

You hovered above his lap, watching intently as he shoved off his bottoms; revealing his hard, long length. The tip was bubulous and red, a contrast to his paler skin. What’s more, pretty white pearls of precum oozed from the slit, twitching from the cool air in the room. Your hands found his shoulders, eyes flicking to his face as nerves settled in the pit of your stomach.

Feitan didn’t do much to ease your anxiety, even finding it a bit comical. His hand rose, shifting under your dress to stroke the dimples etched into your lower back. “What’s wrong?.. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now, [Name].” He watched as your eyebrows pushed together, lips pulled into an annoyed pout.

“I’m not..” You huffed softly, nails digging into his skin as your hips lowered just a smidge, jumping the moment his tip bumped against your throbbing bud. “Just.. g—give me a second.” You spoke, hips moving, lining his cock up with your entrance. A whimper escaped you the moment his tip breached the warm space, sinking down slowly whilst more breaths escaped you.

His hands were steady on your body, holding you up and watching in excitement as you trembled. Your walls clenched around him, slick coating his length as you reached just the middle. The stretch teetered between painful and pleasurable, eyes closed shut as you allowed yourself a moment of rest. A moment that dissipated rather quickly, given Feitan lifted his hips; shoving his length the rest of the way inside.

You tipped over, leaning into him as a sharp whine escaped you. You fisted his shirt, seated completely in his lap as huffs escaped you. “Feitan—!” You cried out, feeling his hand lift to the back of your head, taking your braids in his hand as he lifted you from his form.

“Such a crybaby..” Despite his words, his eyes searched you for any discontent or actual pain, lip tucked behind his teeth. When he found neither — ignoring the light feeling in his chest — the man’s hand fell to your hips, gripping the plump flesh. His fingers dug into your sides, lifting you up off his length until only the tip resided inside— before pulling you back down.

The moan that escaped you was far too sweet, nails pushed into his skin as your hips began to move without restraint. You were so uncoordinated, so fucking messy as you bounced up and down his cock; whimpers thrumming from your throat. The sounds carried around the room; the wet slaps each time you slammed down, your desperate moans, and the subtle grunts Feitan would release every so often.

With each moment of your hips his tip was striking the sweet spot inside you, your walls clenching around his slick length— fresh tears beading and threatening to spill over. A hand rose from your hip, driving up the plane of your stomach to grip one of your breasts; pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers just to hear your voice pitch.

Feitan, Feitan, Feitan! His name was falling from your lips like some type of prayer, knees digging into the mattress as the pleasure consumed your body. You were so fucking lost, lost in the throes of it all with only him to guide you. A faulty anchor he was, pulling you deeper and deeper; leaving your mind so hazy and bleak.

The show you were unveiling was such a delight, the man far too happy to have the front row seats. He pushed closed, hips rising to meet your drops as he grew just a breath’s away. “Keep clenchin’ me so much.. you’re close aren’t you?” Feitan’s voice was ragged, feeling your breath fan across his face. The whimpers that escaped you was enough of an answer, his hand rising to your throat to simply hold— placing his lips onto your own for the first time this afternoon.

The kiss was as heated as the rest of the room, as intense as the moment his hands settled onto your skin. Feitan’s tongue intruded your mouth, licking into the wet cavern to claim as his own. And the moment you attempted to pull away to breathe, his teeth were sinking into your bottom lip; swallowing you back up.

It didn’t matter if you were on top or not, you and him both knew who was in control.

Your hands rose, curling into his black tresses as you felt your peak approaching quickly. You moaned and whined into his mouth, legs shaking as the band tightened deep in your stomach. The tears were flowing freely now, Feitan releasing you this time to hear the haste babbles that escaped you.

“Fu..fuck Feitan! I—I’m gonna come—!” You cried out, the bounces becoming even messier. You felt his hot hands fall to your ass, slapping a cheek as if encouraging you to ruin yourself even further.

“Fucking minx..” Feitan hissed out, eyebrows pinched close, cock twitching within you. “Make a mess than.. don’t hold it.” The confirmed huff was enough for you, creaming all over his dick as you arched into him. The feeling caused a shiver to run down the man’s spine, hissing as you clamped around him.

As you rode out your high, your movements slowed— lurching forward the moment his palm slapped your ass again. The high-pitched whine that threatened to escape was quickly overshadowed by his words;

“I never said stop, did I?” His hand traveled to your hair again, tugging just to hear you whine again. “You wanted it so bad, you don’t get to stop.” Feitan spoke, gripping you to keep you grounded before lifting you up and off his length. The added fact he was matching each thrust was enough for you, head tossed back as the moans slipped from your bruised lips freely and shamelessly— eyes meeting the back of your skull.

The breathes that escaped you was strained, the pleasure far too much but you being unable to run from it. It seems his height went to his strength, holding you so fucking tightly you couldn’t move an inch. Leaving you defenseless, making you take every inch without mercy. The sensitivity dissipated quickly, leaving behind unadulterated ecstasy that caused stars to invade your vision.

Proper words no longer escaped you, babbles of his name and praises replacing such intelligible speech. But Feitan knew enough what you were trying to say, grin still plastered on his features, like some type of madman.

You were sore all over, struggling to keep going but so desperately chasing the release that was bubbling inside of you. You fell forward, forehead brushing his own as his tip brushed your cervix. The pain mingled with the pleasure easily, cunt pulsating around him as you felt yourself grow closer and closer.

In the past hour Feitan had grown to know your body. Each twitch, spasm— everything. He didn’t need to be warned of your climax, especially since he felt the way your walls clenched with urgency. Such a feeling pushed him closer to his own end, blunt nails etching crescents into your sun-kissed skin as he rose up off the bed; fucking you even harder.

The two of you leaned forward for a sloppy, messy kiss; moaning and groaning into the other’s mouth. The hurried slaps of skin on skin contact intensified for a split moment before stuttering as the man spilled inside you.

This was enough for you, coming on his dick again; your releases mixing together and trickling down his cock. Slowly, the two of you pulled back from the kiss; a string of saliva connecting your lips.

Your chests brushed against each other, breath heavy and fanning against the other. The flat of his palms pushed against your waist, pulling back to look at you. “Get off me.”

“Give me a moment to breathe, Fei.” You spoke, used to his harsh tone by now. Despite the small annoyed sigh that escaped him, the man didn’t push you off; even leaning back onto his hands and allowing you to remain in his lap— length still inside your wet sex.

A pleased sigh escaped you, arms tightening around his neck as you leaned into him fully. His eyes darted to the side of your face for a moment, an unreadable expression crossing his features.

A comfortable silence covered the room for a moment before Feitan spoke again, amusement etched into his words;

“I wonder if the professor will like our.. exam.”

Your eyes flew open at this, glancing down at the grin plastered onto his features. Sure enough, the moment you turned, you spotted your phone on your tripod— still recording.

The next ten minutes was spent fighting the shorter man for your phone, him managing to grab it, and you pleading for the video to not be sent.

FEEDBACK & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED <3

[mothhball]

I (still) adore you.

Pairing | Neil Lewis x gn reader, established relationship

Warnings | FLUFF <3 no explicit smut, but nsfw themes and brief mentioning of oral (m receiving). Everything else is fluffy. Possibly ooc Neil. Basic Instinct 2 slander

Summary | You’re trying to tough it out during sex, but Neil insists on checking in on you.

Words | 897

Notes | short soft drabble for this man while I’m in the middle of writing more filth with Jon. Fic title from ‘Till Forever by Labi Siffre

You wanted to enjoy this; you really did. At first, you were just as excited about it as Neil, the both of you giggling and grinning as you filled the online shopping cart with some new toys and equipment. You were excited as you checked out and waited for the package to arrive, and you were even excited as you unpacked the items and you got into the skimpy little outfit that you picked out yourself.

But now, in the middle of having your hair pulled and going down on him… you’re just not feeling it. You’re no stranger to rough play, especially not with Neil whose knowledge of obscure sex positions and raunchy practices seemingly knows no bounds. But today, you just feel weird. Awkward and unsure of yourself like you’re handling a dick for the first time in your life.

He pulls his hips back, freeing his length from your open mouth and placing a gentle hand on your jaw to keep you from going after him. Confused, you look up at him with big eyes, only to meet his worried gaze.

“Are you okay?”

The question makes you pause, and despite yourself, you nod. “Yeah…” you murmur, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

“You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” Neil leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, running his hands trough your hair to rub at your scalp and down the back of your neck.

“No…” you try again, even though you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him. Your boyfriend gives you a knowing look, and in that moment, you know that he can see through you completely. You’re his favorite book to read, and he’ll never tire of lovingly thumbing through the pages that make up you in your entirety. At the start of all this, back when you were just starting to see each other, you were a puzzle he clumsily tried to solve. But now, it’s almost second nature to study the way your brows knit together and your lips twitch. Unravelling all those miniscule details has become one of his most beloved hobbies. Like picking out easter eggs in the backgrounds of his favorite films. And even better: it involves you. Just like he wants the rest of his life to involve you.

“Mhmm… I don’t believe you,” he decides, moving his hand to smooth out the little line between your eyebrows with the pad of his thumb. “I know that look.” Neil’s voice makes your heart ache with warmth, but you can’t help but feel guilty when he’s this soft with you while you’re leaving him hanging.

“I’m sorry, I just… I don’t know, I’m just not feeling it. You’re disappointed… aren’t you?”

“Disappointed? Babe, I waited 14 years for Basic Instinct 2. That was a disappointment. You’re fine, I promise.”

He chuckles into the crook of your neck, placing a few more tender kisses right over your pulse until he pulls back to reach for a pillow to prop up your head.

“We’re a team, remember? If you’re not enjoying yourself, then I’m out as well. You don’t need to force yourself through anything. I love you” Neil smiles at you, tracing patterns onto your shoulder and arm with his fingertips before he scoots back. “M’gonna get you a shirt to keep you warm...”

The bed creaks a little when he gets up and steps over to the closet to get you one of his shirts, retrieving his boxers as well in the process. Of course he’s still hard, and part of him wants to make some jokes about it, but he has the decency of keeping his mouth shut. Big boy pants, Neil. Put them on. You sit up slowly when he returns to your side, and he helps you put on the t-shirt, pulling the garment over your head to make you feel less exposed. Neil handles you with care, and his eyes are filled with love as he wraps his arms around you. Slowly but surely, you’re starting to feel like yourself again.

“What do you want to do instead?” he murmurs, resting his chin on top of your head while he runs his hands over your back. “We can watch a movie or play some games? Or we could –“

“Neil?” you cut him off, and he stops immediately.

“Yeah?”

“Can we just… stay here and do nothing? Just for a while?”

His expression softens and he kisses the crown of your head. Once, then twice and a third time. He doesn’t answer verbally, but it’s clear that he’s more then happy to indulge you. Warm hands lay you back down on the mattress, and he pulls the comforter over both of you before he wraps you up in his arms once more. A comfortable silence settles over the two of you, and the tension slowly seeps out of your body as you melt into Neil’s embrace.

“Maybe you can tell me why Basic Instinct 2 was such a disappointment.”

He laughs. It’s an honest, bubbling laugh that makes your insides feel fuzzy. A grin spreads on his face, and he tilts his head down to affectionately bump his nose against yours before he leans in for a sweet kiss.

“I’ll set a timer for an hour. That should get me through at least a third of my arguments.”

[sushiwriterhere]

pink light

summary: "He had done as best as he could, had stayed through a pizza dinner huddled on your bed. Your mom had tried to soothe you after he’d left, promising you’d find your person, that it wouldn’t always feel this way, being the butt of the joke. You didn’t really believe her–but how do you describe feeling like you’re always walking into the middle of a conversation, missing out on the inside joke and not really ever belonging?”  rating: teen + up pairing: jake seresin x f!reader (unrequited) word count: ~4k warnings: unrequited love, angst, potentially ooc!, no use of y/n.  notes: this is my first fic in a long while and my first attempt at top gun/writing hangman. also incredibly self indulgent and therapeutic – please feel free to tell me what you think!!! not beta'd <3 after some consideration, I have decided I will not be writing a second part to this fic.

If you had to describe your relationship with Jake Seresin, how you knew him, you’d probably say friends since childhood, fellow military brats, maybe even Thing 1 and Thing 2. You two were inseparable from the moment your parents introduced you. Despite any worries about Jake being a few years older, he took you under his wing. There you stayed–ever his dutiful shadow. He’d invite you to parties, let you sit on the sidelines during sports practices, field snide comments about your relationship. 

Now, here you were however many years later, having followed him to Fightertown after a brief stint of separation during college and him in flight school. You’d followed your parents desires dutifully, getting a degree in something ‘useful’ and maintained a slew of internships, part time jobs, and your studies all at the same time. But all you ever really wanted was a routine, a quieter place in the world. Your classmates went off to graduate school, first-year positions at big consulting companies, and all you wanted to do was be near Jake.

To his credit, he’d taken it completely in stride. He’d helped you apartment hunt and settle in, had talked to Penny about getting you a job and so there you were, reunited again. Except something was different. 

It was a secret to absolutely no one that you loved Jake, deeply. At first your parents had laughed quietly at the puppy love, the way you quietly followed him around, blinking owlishly behind your glasses and just nodding along to whatever he was blabbering on about at the time. Then it was a bit less funny, watching Jake go through high school and all of a sudden be tall, blonde, and handsome. You didn’t really have the words for what you felt, so you just watched as he had girlfriend after girlfriend, each of them treating you with a range of emotions from kindness to outright disdain. 

It had been especially bad once–you’d been asked out as a joke by one of the more popular kids in your grade. You’d shyly accepted before being met by laughter that echoed around the hallways, everyone turning to look (if they weren’t observing already). 

Your mom picked you up early that day. 

“I’m going to beat his ass.” Jake burst through your bedroom door, interrupting your quiet sniffling and causing you to jump with surprise, “Tell me who it is and I’ll fix it.”

You paused your crying to force out, “It’s fine, Jake.”

The scowl on his face was as dark as a thousand nights, “Oh it absolutely is not. I’ll make his life a living hell next year.”

And there he was, saving the day as always. You’d cried harder that night after he left, apologizing but he “had a date” that he couldn’t miss, not even for you. He had done as best as he could, had stayed through a pizza dinner huddled on your bed. Your mom had tried to soothe you after he’d left, promising you’d find your person, that it wouldn’t always feel this way, being the butt of the joke. You didn’t really believe her–but how do you describe feeling like you’re always walking into the middle of a conversation, missing out on the inside joke and not really ever belonging?

So when you and Jake had drifted slightly during his time in flight school and your eventual transition to college, there again was that feeling. Like you were watching your own life on an old TV, trying to tune the frequency and always coming back in in the middle of the plot, not sure where you were supposed to be and with whom. The calls became infrequent, more apologies than actual conversation. Then the first deployment happened, and the letters were brief, impersonal. 

Somehow, even now, in the same town, in an apartment not far from base, from where he lived, you felt like there was a part of the story you were missing. You tried not to let it gnaw at you but seeing him come to the Hard Deck with his buddies, sitting there on the sidelines for beach football, seeing how close he had gotten with the other fighter pilots in your absence–now that stung. 

But you had to focus on the everyday, the constants.

“That better not be a phone on my bar!” Penny’s voice rang out over the din of the shouting in the bar, and you felt yourself laugh as you watched Mav’s face turn bright red. 

“I’d be happy to re-open that tab of yours, Maverick.” You grinned at him, and he shook his head.

“I knew I should’ve stopped Hangman from talking Penny into hiring you, you’re more on her side than mine.” You smiled at the man, glad for his presence–besides you knew he didn’t mean it. 

Your parents were far away, and though they loved you, they were always just a bit detached. Military parents just tended to be like that in your experience. So having Mav and Penny around really made Fightertown feel like home. And certainly, having Jake around didn’t hurt at all (despite the distance). 

And like speaking the name of the devil, over the chaos you heard your name–Jake.

“How’s my favorite bartender doing?” You’d never get over that smile of his, the one he reserved for you (at least you hoped). It was all teeth, crinkles by his eyes, and joy. 

You shook your head, “No matter how much you flatter me, I’m not giving you free beer.”

“You wound me,” the smile never faltered, “But I’m actually not here for a free drink. I’m here for all that worldly wisdom that you gain by being a bartender. Psych’s of the drinking world, something like that.”

Rolling your eyes, you poured a gin and tonic without sparing him a glance, “A major in psychology does not count as me being a psychologist, Jake.”

“Ah, see, but you’re also a woman, so that means you’re qualified to help me out.” This time, he wasn’t looking at you when you turned your attention to him. 

Look, you weren’t dumb. You’d understood since his early high school years that Jake had become a very handsome, very charming man. He’d always been cute, and you’d always thought he had a certain air about him, but somehow shooting up to a solid six-foot and spending all his time in the gym had really done it for every other woman ever. And the string of girlfriends, one night stands in between, never stopped. So you just resigned yourself to nodding along. 

Absolutely nothing about that part of Jake had changed in flight school or beyond, apparently. And he seemed determined to make his way through the female population of Fightertown. For what it was worth, at least he never let them think anything of him but exactly what he was offering–a good time, and nothing else. That’s what he wanted and what they gave him. So him asking for advice from you because you were a woman? That made something clench tight in your chest and grit your teeth just a bit. 

“So now I’m a dating guru?” A rum and coke with a smile to the patron who didn’t even glance at Jake, “Here’s your card, sir, enjoy your evening.”

When you finally made eye contact with him, he just had one eyebrow raised in that incredibly irritating way of his, “Uh, no. But you have feelings and you like poetry and shit, so I need your help.”

If there was one thing that Jake’s string of one night stands was good for, it was letting you maintain your silly daydream of him wisening up one day and seeing you the way you saw him. This, however, felt like a punch in the stomach, like someone had come in the middle of the night and stolen all the spouts off every liquor bottle in the Hard Deck. You wouldn’t necessarily be flying blind during an evening of pouring drinks, but there would be a lot of spillage and a really high chance of tears. 

“I’m not helping you manipulate some poor girl, Jacob.” The full name card; his eyebrow lowered a smidge, “Besides, why don’t you ask Phoenix? She’s a woman.”

He groaned and slumped over on the bar. Gross. You hadn’t had a chance to wipe it since the start of the evening rush, and that had been a very, very, long time ago. You ignored his mini moping session, hoping he’d give up asking you about poetry (what the hell?) and feelings. This was the last thing you wanted to deal with right now. 

Instead, he just stood straight up after a few moments of grumbling, smile intact as ever, “Phoenix doesn’t count, I’m pretty sure her dick is bigger than mine. But you’ll help me right? C’mon, where’s the Bug I know? You used to do anything I’d ask you to.”

A low blow, your childhood nickname. It still stung sometimes that he called you that–you hadn’t been ‘bug-eyed’ since freshman year of high school since you refused to put your middle school glasses back on and your parents had relented and let you get contacts. 

You huffed, “Leave me alone, Jake, I have to work.” You bent over to start breaking up the blocks of ice in the cooler by your feet, if only to hide the way your face was bright red. 

He slapped the bar counter, signaling his retreat, at least for now. This was not going to end well. 

-

Not going to end well? That was the understatement of the year. Whichever girl Jake had his eyes on now was clearly different from the others. He hung around after your shift to annoy you again, and this time he would not take no for an answer. Following you around as you closed, he lifted kegs and moved twenty pound bags of ice, all the while managing to maintain a monologue all about this girl. At some point you almost considered breaking a beer bottle over his head if only to get him to stop talking for ten seconds. 

“Listen, just this once, okay? I just really want your help. Tell me what to do.” How was his voice carrying from where he was under the pool table, scraping gum off the underside. “God, this is fucking disgusting–Penny makes you do this every night? It looks like this hasn’t been cleaned since she bought it.”

Penny actually pretended she couldn’t see the nasty shit stuck under the pool tables, but Jake was annoying you enough that it didn’t matter. Anything to get him to stop asking you for advice about this girl. 

“Please shut the fuck up or go home.” The sound of you throwing a wet rag into the bucket by your feet echoed throughout the empty bar. 

You’d had enough. At this point it was almost four in the morning and all you wanted was to lay down for the next forty-eight hours and not think about anyone or anything. 

His head popped out from underneath the table with a look of surprise. You usually didn’t tell him off, at least seemingly content with letting him prattle on about whatever he felt. There was a good flow, sometimes he’d listen to you complain and other times he’d rest his cheek on the bartop and talk about a particularly bad flight drill. This was clearly different.

You hoped you didn’t look as exasperated as you felt, but you saw the sag in his shoulders at your expression, “Right. Sorry.”

You hated it when he did that–you knew it wasn’t on purpose but it took all the air out of the room when he was upset. But this time you were upset enough that you ignored the tug in your stomach at the heavy silence in the room. 

“Look, I’m finished closing here, and I just really want to go home.” 

The two of you maintained an uneasy silence as you shut off the lights and locked the doors behind you. You did your best not to meet his eyes, the overhead lights of the parking lot casting funny shadows on his face that made him look much younger than he actually was. Sometimes you thought you couldn’t breathe when he looked like that–like when you’d first met, attention always focused on you as you followed him around. 

“I upset you. I’m sorry.” His lips were pursed in a flat line, but he was looking at you like he was trying to understand something. 

Suddenly, the gravel beneath your feet was the most interesting thing in the world. That was, until he pulled you into his arms and squeezed you tight. There he was, enveloping you, burying you in the smell of something so distinctly Jake it made you dizzy with want and hope. 

“It’s okay. Drive me home?” 

You felt him nod against your head, and you silently let him go. His arms didn’t drop from your shoulders until a few moments later. He always did that and somehow it was the worst and best thing in your life. 

-

It wasn’t until your shift the next day that what had transpired between you two hit you fully watching him act sheepish and lay it on thick for who he was evidently asking you about. She was beautiful–tan skin, a wide smile, and bright eyes. Her laugh sounded like music and she was dressed just right, like she was putting in effort but still casual enough for a bar like the Hard Deck. 

You wanted to be sick. Scream, cry, whatever it took. Again, you weren’t entirely naive, but Jake had never made it so obvious to you. There had always been an ocean, an eight hour flight–something, anything, separating your realities. He’d always maintained that you were someone special to him but this felt like your world was shattering in front of your eyes. 

It was embarrassing to admit, but at least the high school girlfriends and the one night stands were easy enough to watch pass by. You two moved around too much for any high school sweetheart nonsense, and by the way Jake made flight school sound, he was clearly more focused on being top of his class than anything else. 

At the very least, the universe seemed to pity you if only for the moment. The Hard Deck was incredibly busy on a Friday night, and it only took a few patrons to block your line of sight to your worst nightmare. You worked on autopilot, letting muscle memory and the part of your brain that excelled at customer service take over. In your head, though, you were about to lose it.

All you could see was him leaning close to her, clearly whispering something hilarious into her ear, and her throwing her head back in laughter. The way his hand pressed into her waist made you sick.

It was only after closing, after everyone had been sent home, that you let yourself exhale. Sinking to the ground behind the bar, you buried your face in your hands, reeking of alcohol and all. It took everything in your not to completely break down–you still felt a few stray tears slip out. God, you were so stupid. So young, so naive. 

In that moment it didn’t feel like you had ever moved past that wide eyed six year old meeting Jake for the first time. You’d had boyfriends, kissed a few strangers, but they’d all faded into a sort of background noise whenever compared to Jake. But in that moment, it felt like you were finally hearing the beginning, middle, and end of the conversation.

Beginning: You were Jake’s little shadow, always two steps behind, always tripping over yourself to keep up. 

Middle: At some point, Jake grew up, and you didn’t. 

End: Jake was not in love with you. 

-

Penny took one look at your face when you walked in for your Saturday shift and immediately tried to send you home, “Even if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m not letting you work when you look about three seconds from bawling.”

It stung but she was right. You’d gone home after Friday’s shift and sobbed yourself to sleep. Jake had tried to call in the middle of the day Saturday and you sent him to voicemail. That of course prompted several more calls, all to voicemail, and at least six text messages, all of which you left unanswered. You half expected him to show up at your place and breakdown the door, but he didn’t show. Whether that was worse or better, you hadn’t decided yet.

“Penny, I’m–Look, I’m fine. I’d actually really prefer to work, I need the distraction.” You did your best at a smile, truly hoping she would buy it. 

She narrowed her eyes at you, and gave you a once-over. By the grace of something bigger than the universe, she let you pass her into the back so you could clock in. 

You knew Jake would be here, but you just kept your head down, hoping that would somehow protect you. It was actually Phoenix who found you first, tucked in the back taking a breather from running cups and bottles of liquor so you wouldn’t have to talk to customers. 

She called your name softly and offered a small smile, “Hey, there you are.”

Phoenix and you had always gotten along. She was always sweet to you, always ribbing on the guys on your behalf, and defending you from any creep who decided to try and make a move. But she was also always dangerously observant, and you could tell that this time would be no different.

So despite everything going on around you two, she crouched down beside you, and began pulling everything out of you the way she always did, “I can tell something’s wrong. And I know it’s because of Hangman.”

That was all it took–slapping a hand over your mouth, you felt the sob rise in your throat. Clearly alarmed, she grabbed your other hand and tugged you out back, doing her best to avoid the eyeline of the other fighter pilots. Once out in the dark you sank into the sand and she rubbed your back soothingly as you let your emotions pour out. 

You left no stone unturned, spilling every part of your heart out to her. How you had been in love with Jake probably since the beginning, how you’d waited on the sidelines for your moment, how you’d gone to college on the other side of the country hoping it would help, how the distance felt like an old battle wound. And through it all, she sat and listened thoughtfully. 

“I think you should talk to him. Hangman-” She stopped herself, “Jake shouldn’t be making you feel like this, honey, no one should. But he won’t know unless you tell him.”

Despite it all, you were a romantic. When you had your first middle school crush (other than Jake) you’d marched right up to him and told him straight to his face. You went on your first date because you asked. It never made any sense when looking at every other part of you, but love was just something you couldn’t keep to yourself. Other than Jake. 

“You should talk to him.”

“Phoenix?” There he was, calling your name, “Guys? What’s going on?”

He thundered down the back stairs of the Hard Deck, shaking sand everywhere, his silhouette blocking out the light from the bar. When he spotted you kneeling in the sand with Phoenix at your side, his shoulders sagged. 

“Are you hurt? What happened?” He stopped short by Phoenix and they seemed to have some sort of wordless conversation because she stood and he plopped himself down in her stead.

You wouldn’t look at him. The world felt too big and too small at the same time, like the universe was crashing down on your head and the only thing you could manage to do was let it happen. Phoenix, that traitor, pressed her lips to your head, and walked back into the bar. 

There it was, that part of you that just couldn’t hold back its feelings rearing its ugly head. Except this time it wouldn’t be a schoolyard rejection, it wouldn’t be an awkward pizza date, it would be the end of something bigger than yourself. For a moment, you let yourself bask in what you knew, deep down, was the end of what you had been, and an uncomfortable start to where you would go. 

“Well, I clearly did something.” Jake wasn’t looking at you either–he was looking at the ocean and fiddling with a drink straw. 

“You, uh, well,” You cleared your throat, “It’s not really your fault.”

“Bug, you have like a thousand missed calls from me and probably a thousand more missed texts.” 

The tears were coming again–guilt, fear, sadness, all pouring out of you. You imagined him pacing around his apartment, wearing a hole in the carpet, trying to reach you. You imagined him calling Phoenix and asking for advice. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Isn’t that my line?” He turned to look at you, clearly hoping cracking a joke would ease the tension–no such luck. “Do you want me to go?”

“No.” He stilled beside you. 

“Bug, I don’t–I can’t fix what I did if you won’t tell me.” He was looking back at the ocean, the drink straw now some sort of complicated sailor’s knot.

Swallowing roughly, you figured it was now or never, truly. You closed your eyes, pretending that this moment would be different, that what you were about to say would bring an outcome different than it really would. Maybe in another universe there would be a Jake who saw you as someone other than a younger sibling, his little shadow. 

“I love you, Jake. And there’s nothing that can fix that aside from time.”

He was quiet. There it was. 

“I’m sorry,” He dropped the nickname, using your real name, “I didn’t realize. I must’ve really hurt you with all that poetry shit.”

You felt hollow, numb from every fingertip to your core, “Right.”

“You’re brave, Bug, braver than I’ll ever be. But, I can’t–I’m not that person for you, I’m sorry.” His voice sounded thick with emotion. “I can give you space, whatever you need. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, you just sat next to him, looking out at the ocean. The moon was clear in the sky, Fightertown always maintaining a balmy, clear sky. Here you were, having followed your first, and one true, love across the country. None of it felt real. 

“Thank you, Jake. It’ll take time, but I’ll be fine.” You looked at him for the first time, truly, since things had started unraveling. 

He looked so human, so tired, under the moonlight. It pained you, but for a moment you felt that flicker in your chest, the one you felt whenever he distanced himself, the one that reminded you how human he was. He hadn’t been that little boy for a long, long time. Your days of swingsets and bike rides and childhood inside jokes were past. 

There was some part of you that knew you would be able to breathe again, if not now then in a week, a month, a year. He’d get deployed again, you’d settle back into your routine at the Hard Deck. You’d find your person, like he clearly had. 

And it was time for you to accept that.

[mirasantidotes]

Messy Annotations - Chapter 1

(GIFs not mine)

Read chapter 2 here

Summary: You meet Javi at your local library and notice he's reading your favorite book. You two hit it off and spend your day together, just talking and getting to know each other before you spend the night at his house on accident.

Character: Javi Gutierrez (TUWOMT)

Content Warnings: very ooc!javi, shy!javi, sunshine!reader, reader has wavy hair, reader lives in spain, very fluffy, reader's love language is touch, implied slight age gap (reader is in their 30s), can be read platonically or romantically, a LOT of blushing (a little too much), reader goes to college later in life, HUGE bookworm!reader, no use of y/n. Let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: Thank you for your notes and compliments on Dance With Me; it means a lot! Also, just send an ask/comment and tell me if you'd like a part 2 to this, I had a lot of fun writing it, and I have a few ideas already for a part 2. If you have any other ideas for fanfics, my asks are open for requests! I hope you all enjoy this; it took me forever to get done, and I had an insanely hard time coming up with how I wanted this fic to turn out. The struggle was totally worth it though; this is probably one of my favorite fics I've written!

All of my posts with an * in the title contain smut, or mentions of it. Minors DNI.

(Divider by saradika)

Living in Spain has been one of your biggest dreams, and you finally moved here for college abroad to work on your infuriating art major, even though you feel like you’re a little old for college now that you’re in your 30s. You’re an underground artist, and you’re just itching to get your work out there to be noticed by the public. You’re an absolute ball of sunshine, and to be fair, you’re the most energetic and outgoing person you know, but, you don’t really know too many people in Spain yet, but that’s beside the point. You really are energetic, though— almost too much. There is one thing that you’re always excited about though, no matter what— reading. Finding new books to binge-read in one sitting is always one of your favorite activities when you have free time. The library cashier is extremely tired of you coming in every week. 

Javi Gutierrez, on the other hand, is the polar opposite of you. He’s a shy, new up-and-coming actor who doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life after the success of his first movie. Though fame is finding him well, much more than anticipated, he doesn’t particularly want to make another movie quite yet, now that his co-star, Nic Cage, has left Spain. Even with his newfound fame, he still enjoys going out and doing activities he enjoys, which mainly include going to the local library. He prefers reading in a library than in his own house, alone. He likes the atmosphere the library gives him, but most of all, he loves tucking himself away strategically in the corner of the library window, so he can look out and see the bustling streets of people living their everyday lives. 

On a Friday afternoon, you have some free time to yourself, and you, of course, decide to head to your local library. You never go on Fridays— your typical day off is Sunday, but today was different; today was a professor work day at your college, so you had no classes or any assignments to complete, meaning you could spend your whole day reading. You walk into the library happily, as always. The smell of the ink bled into the pages of hundreds of books filled your lungs— a scent you thoroughly enjoyed. You finally pick out a new book that you’ve been eyeing, having heard good things about it online and from the people in your college. 

Even though you got what you came for, you couldn’t walk into a library and buy just one book— no, you had to buy at least 5 every time you came in. After picking out your books, you waltz to the cashier, who already appeared annoyed at you being there. A strict, slightly older woman— always had an attitude, but that didn’t let you stop being your energetic, bubbly self to her. “You know, you still need to return the other 10 books, right?” she says, sternness filling her tone. 

“Yeah, yeah! I know; I’ll bring them all back next time I come!” you say, smiling widely, setting the books down on the counter. The woman simply rolls her eyes at your response, knowing you’d be back in a few days and she’d have to deal with you again. After she scans the books, the woman tells you, “Your total is going to be €15.75.” €15.75… you think. You only brought €15— you sigh in response; the woman before you, never having heard that sound come out of you, and looked at you like you had 3 heads planted firmly upon your shoulders. You searched your pockets and purse but had no change.

“It’s just 75 cents. Can’t you let it pass this once?” You plead but to no avail. The woman shakes her head harshly, muttering something about ‘library rules,’ but you were too disappointed by her head shake to take care of what she said. You sigh once more— looking around the library; surely somebody would be willing to give you a dollar, right? Right? 

You feel increasingly upset the longer you look through the library aisles for someone to ask until your eyes finally land on a gentleman wearing a mustard-colored shirt full of wrinkles. He was sitting in a corner, away from everything, with his legs planted on a footrest and his face hiding behind a book. You hold your finger up to the cashier, signaling for her to wait as she sighs in response. You walk up to the man, “Hey! I hate to ask you this, but I was just checking out, and I’m 75 cents short. Do you mind? It’s okay if not—” you say quickly, trying not to seem too over the top. 

The man lowers his book, and a shy pink rose upon his cheeks while nodding slowly. “Um yeah, sure,” he whispers, almost inaudible, as he shifts himself in his seat and reaches into his jeans pocket for some change. He pulls a €5 bill from his pockets and raises his hand for you to take it before settling back into his seat. 

You take the bill from between his fingers, grinning brightly— “Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver,” you say, full of enthusiasm. A soft smile washes over the man’s face before nodding, his cheeks still showing a light rose color. You turn on your heel and rush back to the cashier, proudly waving your money in the air. After checking out, the cashier hands you your change, and you grab your books. Before you leave, you turn back and walk toward the man again. He seemed to have heard you coming and had lowered his book just enough to see you already standing there. “Hey again, thank you for lending me some money. Here’s the change!” you say, holding the money out to him, close enough for him to reach it. The man lowers his book into his lap, smiling softly, takes the money from your grasp, and messily pushes the money back into his jeans. 

You finally catch a glimpse of the man's entire face, his curly brown hair complimenting his tanned skin and the patchy stubble on his face. You grow curious and look into the man’s lap to see what book he’s reading— and to your surprise, it’s your favorite book ever. “Oh my God,” you exclaim, a little too loud for a library, startling the man slightly and causing him to look at you. After adjusting your tone accordingly,  you continue— “that’s my favorite book!” 

His face lights up brightly, “Really? That’s awesome,” he enthuses, yelling in a whisper. Just for a moment, he’s brought out of his shy state. He adjusts his position again, sitting forward in his seat and removing his feet from the footrest. “I’ve loved this book since it came out,” he continues, “I’ve never met anyone else who likes it.” 

“Yeah, all the books from this author are really good! I especially love this one, though,” you finish, smiling as you sit on the footrest in front of the man, hugging your new books to your chest. The man, shy once more, becomes flustered until “Hey, I was thinking of going to the coffee shop down the street. Do you wanna come with?” you say, tilting your head to the side. 

The man’s eyes widened, with even more heat rising into his cheeks— another thing they had in common; coffee. “Yeah, of course,” he enthuses, breaking eye contact just enough to stand up out of his seat while grabbing his bag and placing his book inside of it, “I love that place!” he finishes as he puts the bag messily around his shoulder, looking back at you. He looks down at the books you’re holding in your arms, and as you stand up, he asks, “Do you wanna put your books in my bag? So you don’t have to hold them—” he says softly.

“Yeah, sure! Just don’t steal them for yourself,” you joke, making yourself chuckle before handing him your books. The man blushes at your words, taking the books from your hands and placing them all inside his bag. The two of you walk out of the library, and you wave to the cashier as you leave; she, of course, didn’t wave back. As the two of you walk towards the coffee shop, you get lost in conversation about your favorite books. The walk was the same distance it always was, but with the man walking with you, it felt a lot shorter than usual. 

Just as you reach the shop, you stop suddenly. You hadn’t asked the man his name, nor had he asked you. “I forgot to ask, what’s your name?” you say, turning to him, smiling nervously. 

“Javi,” he says, his rich, deep voice rings through your ears. A soft laugh escapes your mouth, full of nervousness as you tell the man your name, him joining your chuckles soon after. The two of you sit at one of the tables placed by a window. 

The two of you gush over your newfound subjects in common— a not-so-known favorite author and coffee. What could be better? The two of you spend well over an hour hogging up the coffee table, just getting to know each other, until a worker comes and tells you that you have to leave if you aren’t going to buy anything else. The two of you are already so strung out on coffee you both know either of you doesn’t need any more in your system. “Hey, do you wanna come over to my house for a little bit?” Javi asks, “You don’t have to, obviously; I know we just met and—” 

You spring your head up at his words; you’ve been having a lot of fun talking to Javi so far; what could it hurt? “Of course!” you interrupt his concerned rambling. He simply smiles in return, picking up the bag under his seat as he stands up. The two of you walk to the door of the coffee shop, “I walked here from my house, so it’s a bit of a walk—” he says, as he opens the door for you to walk out, “I hope that’s okay,” he finishes as he walks out behind you, closing the door. 

“Yeah, that’s alright!” you say excitedly as the two of you start walking toward’s Javi’s house. Obviously, you don’t go to random people’s houses like this, but Javi felt— different. He felt trustworthy, considerate, and loving. You’re brought out of your thoughts while on the way there as you spot a flower field to the left of you. You stop walking to look at the view for a moment, Javi noticing almost immediately. He turns back to face you, a slight smile planted on your face. You’ve never been to this area of Spain before, and already, it’s so much more beautiful than where you currently dwell. 

Javi looks for a moment at your wavy hair, lightly being blown in the sunset’s wind, the sun glowing brightly in the backdrop of you, lighting illuminating your features. As he realizes he’s been staring, he clears his throat and fixes his shirt before stepping toward you. Just as he reaches your side, you look at him. “It’s beautiful,” you declare, still looking at the field. Javi looks at you and nods, “Yeah, it is.” before turning his head to look where your eyes were fixated. Suddenly, you interlink your arm with his, tugging at him to follow you into the field. “Come on, let’s pick some flowers,” you say, excitement filling your body, with a slight red washing across your face as you unlink your arm, running your hand down to hold his, as you turn around to face him while walking backward as laughter fills the air. Javi blushes at the sight of you for what seems like the millionth time today— as you two reach relatively far from the path you were previously walking, you let go of Javi’s hand, your body missing his touch.

You bend down near a patch of red carnations, picking a flower and lifting it to your nose, smelling the sweet yet subtle clove-like scent and letting it fill your body, making you feel warm inside. You stand back up and turn around to see Javi standing behind you, hands in his pockets with the corners of his lips upturned softly, causing gentle wrinkles to form around his dark-colored eyes. You walk up to him and place the flower behind his ear, letting his soft curls hug around the stem to hold it in place— light pink creeps up his neck and onto his cheeks once more. 

You giggle at his face, full of awe— you break your gaze from his kind face enough to look up into the sky, causing Javi to do the same. You notice it’s getting late, and just as you’re about to say you should get going to Javi’s house, he speaks, “It’s getting late; we should hurry before it gets too dark,” his deep voice with his rich accent echoing through your ears as if honey had a sound— making your cheeks flush. 

You simply nod in agreement while holding your hand out for him to take it. He has to look back between your hand and your face a few times before finally taking it in his own, making a few soft chuckles escape your mouth, causing him to do so too. After about 20 minutes of walking, the bright orange rays shining behind you slowly disappear until finally reaching it’s end, and the lightness of the moon begins peeking out from the horizon. The two of you reach Javi’s home, and God— was it beautiful. You wouldn’t admit it, but you felt slightly jealous while walking into his pristine villa home when you’re reminded of your small college dorm.

“Do you want a drink or anything?” he asks, breaking the non-awkward silence the two of you had throughout your walk. 

“Sure! Water’s fine,” you reply happily, looking at all of the knick-knacks Javi had littered throughout his home. Javi returns with your water in hand, nearly running to get back to you. 

After handing it to you, he speaks up, “Do you wanna go sit on the couch— or?” he says, his voice laced with a sort of sweetness that makes your body tingle. You nod in response, taking a sip from your water. Javi guides you to his living room; the large room before you opens up as he turns on moody, orange lights that remind you of the sunset you saw a mere hour ago. It feels homey— welcoming, and warm. Something you don’t experience at your own college house. Javi walks over to the couch, covered in soft blankets and a few pillows, and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. You follow closely behind, sitting close to him, your knees almost brushing against each other as you sink into your seat. 

Javi hums as if he’s forgotten something essential and stands up without saying anything. He disappears into the other room, leaving you there. After a few moments, he returns— an old worn book in his hands. “This is one of my favorite books,” he says, sitting back down next to you, “I want you to read it,” he finishes softly, looking at you while motioning for you to take it. You oblige— surprisingly, it’s a book you’ve never read, so of course, you’d be willing. You open the book to the first page, glancing at it, then turning over a few pages before running your fingers through each and every page, noticing messily written notes and scribbles written out into the worn margins. You absolutely adore annotated books, and it’s one of your favorite pastimes, besides actually reading the book in the first place. 

You let a few chuckles escape your mouth as you look up to see Javi’s relieved expression grow on his face after your silence. You reach over to hug him quickly, causing him to laugh too, his hand resting on your upper back. You pull away, returning your attention to the book, positioning yourself cross-legged before him, sinking into your seat even more. “Can I read it now?” you ask, smiling, still not looking at him but skimming the first page's notes. 

“Of course,” he says simply, smiling. You start reading immediately— resting your head on the side of the couch. You point out a few rather silly remarks he’s written down on the first page, causing you both to giggle. You spend well over an hour just reading the pages of the book, occasionally engaging in a conversation about what you’re reading, Javi being just as fascinated with it as you are, if not more which makes you chuckle. After a while, a “Can I lay my head on your lap?” escapes your mouth, looking at Javi for consent. He nods as his face heats up, and you lay down, the book above your face, as you two still talk about the notes he’s made and the careless actions the main character makes in the book. 

About halfway through the book, you hear Javi’s stomach grumble something mean, causing you to laugh. “You hungry?” you ask sarcastically, looking at him, letting a few more chuckles escape your mouth. You receive a nod as he joins in on your laughter, a slight tint of embarrassment hidden within as he hides his face behind his hands. You lift your head off his lap, setting the book down on the couch, not leaving the page you left off on. “You should eat,” you say softly. 

“Yeah,” he pauses, thinking. “Do you want some cake? That’s what I’m going to have,” he finishes, looking over at you, eyes glistening in the light’s warm tones that fill the room. 

You smile, “That sound’s perfect!” you say, nodding. He stands up, whispering a quiet ‘okay’ sound before disappearing into the other room once more before returning a few minutes later with two plates, each with red velvet cake and a napkin on each. You let out a small squeak at the sight, making your mouth water slightly at the richly flavored cake. As you two are eating, Javi finishes rather quickly, and you notice frosting on his face he doesn’t seem to notice. You pick up your napkin to wipe it off, his cheeks turning visibly red, as does yours, the both of you gigging. 

Once you finish your cake, you set both plates down on the coffee table, along with the book, and lay your head back down on his lap. “Wanna watch some TV?” you ask, looking up at his face and into his eyes as he meets yours. 

“Sure thing,” he says, nodding while looking down at your face before reaching for the remote to turn on the TV. After an hour of watching the show, you fall asleep, head still resting in his lap. He notices shortly after when he hears the soft snores that escape your mouth, which is slightly agape. He smiles at the sight, lowering his hand down to brush some of the hair out of your face. He feels your cold skin and grabs the blanket from behind you that was messily thrown over the couch’s back, and lays it over your body, causing you to stir slightly in your sleep. He lowers the volume of the TV so as to not wake you up.

Shortly after, he looks down at your sleeping state, whispering a light "Goodnight, hermosa (beautiful)," before he leans back onto the couch deeper, sighing contently, before falling asleep for the night, with you in a deep sleep on his lap.

[morphinejunkie]

hii how are you? i hope you’re doing well :) i really love your fanfic crush, i’m writing a mello fanfic myself, but i’m having such a hard time capturing his essence, sometimes i get carried away writing him but then i realize it’s not really accurate, i either make him too angry, too much this, too much that, idk, do you have any tips for me? (only if you want, i just really love how you portray him, i think it’s really accurate so i thought what’s better than to ask you?) <3 ✨🌸

thank you very much!

mello was a character i struggled to write at first too. he’s a delicate tightrope walk between intelligence, aggression, coolness and (in my opinion) brevity. personally i find that the hardest thing is striking a balance that encompasses all four.

so i’ll break it down, this is what worked best for me.

1. use canon

the way i wrote mello, i referenced the original manga (and voice/diction in the dub anime) a lot. i would first listen to his lines and try to internalize his voice. and then i would study his body language in his panels and try to shift that body language and attitude into whatever scenario i’m writing.

mello is a pretty layered character, which i think a lot of people struggle with. he plays up the characteristics that people often associate with him (i.e. in the call with the president, he acts taunting and brash) when on his own turf he’s actually very calculating and careful (i.e. any scene in the mafia - he’s often staring into space, sprawled into a relaxed but aggressive position, and thinking).

i think a big thing to remember too is that mello made many decisions in canon that need to be backed up to create a holistic view of who he is. reverse-engineering mello’s character from his actions was a huge part of how i developed my mello as well - “why did mello do this? what motivations were urging him to do the thing he did? why are his emotions this way while he’s doing it?”

general rule of thumb is: if your mello would not do the things that canon mello did, the way that canon mello did, he’s probably ooc.

2. take him as a whole - not parts of him

i focused a lot of my energy on trying to capture mello as a whole. a lot of it is meeting mello where he is, not where you want him to be. assuming he is fully formed, an actual person, and you are getting to know him, not creating him from scratch. when i was no longer concerned about making mello do things that i wanted him to do, and instead interacting WITH mello as a fully formed character, i found it natural to hear his voice. near the end of crush i felt like i was just documenting them with a camera while matt & mello did what they did. they moved almost completely on their own and i was just there to capture it.

for me, especially in the beginning, i would often “practice” by throwing both matt & mello into a scenario with no expectation or plot, and seeing how they play off each other, without trying to move them from point a to point b. i found that let me understand their characters better — better than say a character study or a self-reflection would. in fact the bar scene was that exercise for me, and ended up setting the tone for the rest of the fic.

3. figure out all the different ways you can read mello, and figure out which works best for you

the one thing is, even if you study mello and take him as who he is, there’s not a lot to work from off the original series. a lot of him is further developed in fandom, and so there are various camps of interpretations of mello that are all equally valid & sound. i found that mapping out exactly how mello can be interpreted and figuring out where my mello lay on that scale helped me a lot in determining what i found was personally ic/ooc.

funnily enough this matrix was really helpful even though it was just a stupid joke post from back in the day. i really liked the way “mihael keehl” talked, i found it so cool and grounding. “priss” still exists though the details or manner of speaking has changed over the years, in fact twinky/glamourous mello remains one of the most common interpretations of his character which i personally rejected (i don’t think it reflects his body language in canon at all). “batshit” mello is time and place for me, but ultimately, not how i like to write him (as it only explains some of his actions in canon but not all).

of course writing mello in the end is wholly depends on your personal preference - you could do all of this and still end up with a different vision of mello as i did. as long as he is fully fleshed out to you, the details don’t matter.

[lu-lus-dicks]

@huskers-bar x @nunalastor chapter 2

Tags: enemies to lovers, angst?, eventual fluff, yearning?, soft huskers-bar, both mods are separate people, no beta we die like i do in this fic (not yet though), minor character death, ooc, au: hellaverse (hazbin hotel), nunalastor is head of the marketing department of the hazbin hotel (lucifer grabbed them randomly), jealousy?, huskers-bar is an employee at voxtek, lulu as a villain, lulu is a dog, huskers-bar is a liar, secret dating?

chapter: 2/? / chapter Word count: 1852 / total word count: 3283

Featuring: babygirl anon and @xxx-angie . eventually will feature solis, the oc of @soliac-snecc

nunalastor as a single entity is nunalastor, traumatized mod dickmaster and cursed mod nun. and huskers-bar just husk. babygirl anon will be babygirl anon. I will be lulu. Angie will be angie but is meant to be read as angel dust.

A/N: I am a little drunk while writing the start of this, forgive me for any weird mistakes and stuff. bit of a change to the script, angie will no longer be a villain, but an obstacle and yes. I am currently the only true villain. the font size joke was very much forced in

this chapter is huskers-bar focused

"Ugh... Fuck"

The growly and gruff voice of Huskers echoed throughout the empty room. They winced as they rolled over in bed, accidentally knocking over a pile of empty bottles. The sound of their clinking was giving them a headache. One shattered at the side of the makeshift bed of their small private room-

Which you can only get at voxtek, come and become a part of the family! Voxtek, trust us with your employment and living quarters-

Ugh, they must be hallucinating... They squinted their eyes, trying to make sense of their surroundings. The migrane wasn't helping. Huskers stared at the ceiling, a little more dazed than usual. They tried to recall what happened, but the past few hours were completely wiped from their memory. It must've been one of those days. They look over at the clock.

It'a about time they get to work...

With one groan they get up, dragging their hands on the floor as they reach for their keys and phone. The room still spun a little, but it's not like they had a choice. They headed towards the door, less than ready, and finally left their sanctuary.

~

"Where the fuck is my cameraman?!" The angry shouting of Val could be heard from behind closed doors. Vox can already hear the glasses breaking and his precious voxtek equipment getting destroyed. The frustration of dealing with that mans temper never stops. Who does he think he is anyway?! Making all these expensive equipment costs money! Precious money! And it doesn't help the fact that he always demands the highest quality cameras too. Besides, why does he need them?! His eyes see in 144p anyway!

It was right at that point when a knife cut through the wooden door and broke yet another piece of expensive furniture. Great. All these were custom made god damn it.

Vox sighed heavily, trying to pinch an imaginary bridge of his nose, before his fingers were met with the flatness of his screen. It was the thought that counts.

"Hey huskers" vox called out with casual annoyance, like he'd rather not be dealing with this right now.

Huskers who had been loading up the latest voxtek equipment paused and turned their attention to Vox. "Yes?" They asked.

"I need you to take over the cameraman duty, our regular isn't showing up on time" Vox explained, already making his way to the door and waving his hand dismissively, muttering something under his breath about killing their regular with a five headed spear later.

Huskers, hurried to put away the box, which they assumed was filled with weird sex toys, and hurried over to Val's door. The knife sticking out of the door was concerning but it wouldn't be the first. Carefully they opened the door, readying themselves to dodge any attack thrown their way. Luckily for them, Val seemed to be distracted with another employee.

"Hi, I'm a stand-in for the cameraman" husk said, sliding over to the cameras sneakily. Val of course noticed and angrily shouted. "Fucking finally! That slut finally sent a bitch. Now chop chop!"

~

The job of a cameraman was not an easy one, especially when the scene in front of you is ridiculous. Not intentionally of course, but husk had to keep it in if they valued their life. Val didn't seem like the type of person who would take that kind of "disrespect" lightly.

"Oh daddy, please don't stack all those donuts on my penis!" Came the overly sexual and whimpering voice of Angie, who finally had gotten that line down without breaking character. A fish demon groaned, both for the act and because this stupid scene had finally been recorded after attempt number 69, much to everyone's relief. Val was getting antsy and would murder some poor employee any second.

Husk didn't know how angie took any of it seriously, even the sexier scenes. The whole scripted aspect felt very silly and goofy.

They guessed it didn't matter though, their job was finally done and they can fuck off from the studio. Husk would not be missing this place. They got up off their chair and just as they were about to head out, Angie, the one and only, had stopped them with an arm on the shoulder.

"Hey there new kid, pleasure-" he said, moaning out that specific word like a bitch in heat "to be doin buisness with ya" he said, offering two hands to shake husks one. Angie leaned against one of the lamps, nearly knocking it over in the process and started eyeing them up and down. "So, what brings ya to this studio?"

Huskers was visibly a little put off by the directness, but they should've expected as much. Everyday an event just reminds them that they are indeed in hell and that only the worst of the worst live here...

Ah, yes the question. "I'm just a stand-in for whoever was here before" They answered, pointing vaguely at the outside world. "Vox asked me to, and honestly doing camerawork is a much lighter load than what I was doing before"

Angie quirked a brow at this, either confused or not expecting that response. It could've honestly been both. His demeanor changed quickly though. "yeah. say, whatchya doin later?" biting his lip, he wiggled his eyebrows in a manner that would make grown men cum on the spot.

"Drowning down my sorrows with liquor" Huskers deadpanned, not biting at that fruit angel was so provocatively dangling in front of them. A scoff from him was expected. what wasn't expected though, was that the scoff was more amused than offended.

"you remind me of someone. say, how do you feel about redemption?"

~

"And these are the cockroaches that won't stop breeding! and this is the wall with a record breaking repairs done to it, and here's Angies dildo collection and-"

"babe, we've talked about this, you don't have to show them everything" Vaggie said, patting charlies shoulder hoping to ease or at least slow down the excited vibrating of her dearly beloved.

"Right, right! Sorry!" Charlie was quick to snap out of it, offering a small kiss to the back of Vaggies palm as an appreciative thank you and returning her attention back to Husk.

Husk was very much overwhelmed. All the energy in the room was making their brain sort-circuit and start buffering. They felt like they were under a microscope and being prodded with electric wires and it was... strangely pleasant. "Uh... Yes hi?"

A very mischievous chuckle came from nearby, one very much at a higher pitch of frequency and- Wait, is that the radio demon?

"Pardon my intrusion, but what is that on your wrist?" Alastor the radio demon said, bending his slutty waist to lean down at Husks eye level. "I believe there's a strict 'no voxtek products' policy here. Did you not bother to read the sign?" Alastor pointed his cane over to the whiteboard, which read:

RULES:

no Voxtek

no Vox

Jambalaya every friday

One of those sexy tentacles reached out, unclipping and retrieving the watch. He held it up in the air in front of everyone to see.

A collective gasp echoed through the room as Vaggie swiftly retrieved her spear from behind her back, pointing it menacingly at Husk "Not another one of these idiots" Vaggie growled, now in her defensive position. Angie and Charlie both flew to husk's defense, meanwhile Husk remained frozen in place. This was how they double died wasn't it?

"It's okay guys, they just work at voxtek. They're okay, I would know. They're harmless" Angie used one set of arms to shield husk and the other to gesture for everyone to ease their guard. The tension did die down a little, but that was fine. The tension in the room slowly began to dissipate, but Angie knew that Charlie would soon work her magic and convince everyone to give Husk a chance, as per usual.

~

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"nun get out! I need to take a shit" dickmaster banged on the hotel's currently singular clean bathroom. The force of their knocking was definitely excessive and damaging to their hands, but it got the desperation of the request-no-demand across.

"you said to help answer asks, so I am doing that... in the toilet" Nun yelled through the door, not even bothering to look towards the door, currently blocking access to Dickmasters relief.

"I doubt that" Dickmaster crossed their arms, and legs. Their bladder was about to fucking explode. Just at that moment a ding went off on their phone.

'nunalastor just posted: anonymous asked...'.

huh.

guess they were actually answering asks in there.

"Okay fine but I still need to shit! Do your answering outside!"

"I'll get out after one more ask" Nun chuckled, knowing full well, they weren't about to stop the torment anytime soon.

"Your eyesight is piss poor. I doubt you can even read anything on your phone"

"You'll just have to wait and see~"

And of course, as any normal sane person would do in this situation, Dickmaster decided to start banging on the door until either nun had enough and left or until the door broke and they murdered nun themself.

"I bet your phone's font size is 230%-"

~

All that banging attracted the attention of Husk, who had been wandering around the room with Angie. They weren't walking together, but their paths were the same.

"What's that noise?"

"Oh that? That's just our marketing team doing their job"

"Sounds like fucking... Are they fucking?"

"HA, doubt it..." there was a pause, both in the speech and in the walk. "Maybe, sex sells afterall" Angie shrugged and continued walking forward.

"seems counterproductive for a place made for rehabilitation..."

Husk couldn't help but be curious. This hotel had turned out to be everything they hadn't expected from Hell. The residents were surprisingly pleasant, and even the staff, though weird as fuck, weren't as unbearable as the other sinners in Hell. Now that they thought about it, Charlie never mentioned a marketing staff. She seemed so excited to share about the hotel and it's people. One would think she wouldn't forget to mention them, right?

unable to resist the curiousity, Husk had to know who they were. They quietly sneaked towards the source of the banging. They rounded the corner and was met with an... Interesting visual. One demon, black eyes with yellow pupils desperately pounding on a door.

Dickmaster paused their relentless banging, a feeling of being watched washing over them. Their head snapped immediately in Husk's direction, locking eyes with them. Their expression displayed emotional as well as physical constipation.

Husk froze, their body stiffening like a board. Had they interrupted something? Should they make a break for it? The state of being caught in such an awkward situation was undeniably terrifying. With a rigid and awkward wave, Husk managed an awkward smile. And then they realised-

"Are you nunalastor? You look just like your profile picture"

FUCK, they're going to get accused of being a stalker.

[alphabetatoes]

Sanji vs. NNN (x reader fic)

a.n.: hey hi hello. its november so y'all know what that means. time for the sanji simp to write a nnn fic! aka the one where sanju tries to make it through the month without release. (also very vague timeline of events) (zoro and nami peace out towards the beginning of the fic) (and maybe possibly accidental blue balling) (a part 2 maybe?)

c.w.: afab!reader (though no explicit mention of body parts!), language, possibly ooc, angst?!, inconsistent timeline

w.c.: 1082

After what felt like an eternity at sea, you and the rest of the Straw Hats  had finally reached the next island on your journey through the Grand Line. The island was a tundra, and a vast departure from the long list of tropical islands you had hit for the past few dockings. Chopper had lived on an island of extreme cold temperatures his entire life and was the first choice to navigate the terrain. Luffy, of  course, was hell bent on finding a buffet- if not, any sort of local delicacy would do. Robin and Usopp were picked to pair up with the aforementioned Straw Hats in the event that they would need to split up. Therefore, you, Nami, Zoro, and Sanji were staying behind on the Going Merry. Nami's log pose would take about a month to record its magnetic field, so you were stuck in each other's company for the near future.

Late one night on the ship, you had decided to propose a challenge to better pass the time. It was a drunken idea, but the four of you were determined to see it come to fruition. Zoro and Sanji were sharing stories of past flings for the umpteenth time and you decided to make things interesting. Nami was the one to lay out the ground rules for the bet.

“How about this? I bet the two of you can’t make it a full month without getting off. Both by yourself or with the help of someone or something else.”

“And if we win?”

“I’ll drop the interest rate for your debts by 25% all December. Otherwise, it’s being doubled for six months.”

“Y/N?” Sanji looked at you, eager to gauge your response.

“My prize is getting to watch the two of you struggle for the next month.” You raised your eyebrows, ogling at the idea of it.

It went without saying that Sanji had a crush on you. Vinsmoke Sanji was infamous throughout each of the Blues for his romantic tendencies towards women, but it wasn’t just lust with you. You were something different. He needed your approval, and craved your praise.

“Mosshead already has the advantage of being asleep the majority of the time, so I guess it’s up to me to keep the bet going.” The bitter tone in the blond’s voice was ever present. You knew he was at somewhat a disadvantage. It was hard not to be when he wore his tender heart on his sleeve.

The first two weeks were a living nightmare for Sanji. Every look you gave seemed to linger longer than necessary. He wasn’t completely to blame for his circumstance though. To circumvent Zoro and Sanji staying in their rooms all day, you and Nami had decided to enforce a lockout. Rather than camping out in your respective rooms all day, everyone was expected to be out and about while the sun was up. Restrooms were fair game, with the caveat that anything over 20 minutes would be seen as an admission of guilt and an automatic loss of the challenge. 

That didn’t mean you were going to make it easy on the boys, especially the first couple of weeks. Zoro had managed to stay true to his word and keep preoccupied, but Sanji wasn’t as lucky. It was almost like you made it a personal mission to get him to break. Clothes somehow managed to look tighter and skimpier, and every sentence you spoke had a hint of innuendo.

On the sixth day of the challenge, you had accidentally brushed up against him trying to grab something from the pantry and he could’ve died right there. The warmth of your skin brought him a jolt of goosebumps. 

By the third week, he had found a routine to fall into, a way to devoid himself from falling into the trap of lust and losing the challenge. He knew his triggers and how to avoid them. Instead of having dinner together as usual, he’d drop yours and Nami’s meals off in your room. If you were outside doing chores, Sanji was burrowed in the kitchen and organized every square inch. With his flip in attitude, you decided it would be best to just give him a break for the rest of the challenge. Even though the ship was huge, personal space was still a virtue.

November 29th. 

Sanji had made it a full 29 days without incident. And then you came out to the deck of the ship that night to clear your head. You weren’t dressed sexy by any means. But seeing you adorned in your favorite pajamas, he would have sworn that you were something divine sent down just for him.

“Hey.” Now seemed as good a time as ever to exchange pleasantries, testing the water given his recent stint ignoring you. Sanji looked over at you, slightly jumping at the sound of your voice. 

“I need you. Now.” He was ready to disregard all the rules of the challenge for the chance to show you hoe intense his feelings were.

“You’ve seemed pretty blasé recently- I would’ve assumed you’d ask me to leave. Get yourself to the end of the challenge y’know?”

“Please.” Sanji wasn’t even begging at this point. The cadence of his voice made it seem like a need more than a want. Struck with an affliction only you could solve.

“Don’t you have, like, one day left? I don’t think you’d want to risk 6 months of increased interest for me.” Teasing him was fun in the beginning, but your question was truly in earnest. You couldn’t help notice the dwindling space between the two of you though. Sanji was trapped in a trance, gravitating toward your voice. Hungry for release and desperate to show you how pent up you had made him for the past month.

“You really don’t get it, do you? It was never about the challenge. You aren’t just some consolation prize to me.” Sanji’s face was a mix of frustration and need. “I would have taken you the first day you joined the crew if I could.”

“Sanji.” You knew you’d never hear the end of it from Zoro if you were the reason Sanji lost the challenge. But Sanji would have paid 1000% interest for even a second to show his devotion to you. He was close enough now that you could feel his breath hit your skin. 

“Let me show you how much I need you.”

[ten-cent-sleuth]

I know I’m not a big part of the xReader community, as I rarely read it and even more rarely interact, but I wanted to try making some friends there so I’m going to be posting a Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader multichap soon! Usually, I like to write 4k+ chapters and to have everything completed before posting the first chapter, but since this multichap will serve as my entries for July Break Bingo, I’m going to try something different this time.

Each chapter will be whatever length it ends up being at first (I’ll bolster them all in the revision stages later), and I will post them here as soon as they’re done. Once every chapter is posted, I’ll go back and edit, and then I’ll post the new version on AO3. I look forward to sharing the journey to a good copy more closely with my readers!

However, that does mean there will be some inconsistencies to be suffered through. Especially since this multichap will be a case fic, I’m expecting plot holes as well as OOC moments to abound. I apologise in advance, welp.

Now, for the more fun info!

Below is my empty JBB card if you are curious to see what will be giving the fic some direction. I intend to get a blackout with this multichap. 👀👀👀

Synopsis: Your father hires Sherlock to investigate your husband’s death…a decade after it occurred. Why is your father suddenly concerned foul play was involved? And what is motivating Sherlock to take on a case that has every expectation of being dry and uninspired? (Takes place in the world and time after the Enola Holmes film but before the sequel.)

Warnings: please see this post for those and feel free to send me an ask if you need more details (I’m keeping them separate to avoid spoilers)

Masterlist: A Galling Yoke Part 1 … Part 2 … Part 3 … Part 4 … Part 5 … Part 6 … Part 7 … Part 8 … Part 9 … Part 10 … Part 11 … Part 12 … Part 13 … Part 14 … Part 15 …

Status: on hiatus [as of 2024-06-05] (but Part 15 should be a satisfying ending until the next update) – please let me know if you would like to be tagged with updates! :)

Thank You, God, for letting me write this and thank you, dear reader, for reading. <3

[mshroom1e]

Distance | Zhongli x GN! Reader

This is my first fic woooo

I split it into 2 parts coz it's gonna be quite a lot for me to write. My friend made a request for me to write this one. Apologies in advance for any grammar and spelling mistakes as well as any ooc moments.

type: fanfic

Summary: [Name] works at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour alongside Zhongli and has developed a friendly but slightly romantic relationship with him. Zhongli suddenly builds a wall between them, leaving [Name] confused.

3.5k words

Warning(s): a swear word is said

Part 1 of 2

An elegant man. A man who was as unmovable as rock yet as easygoing as a blade of grass in the wind. Zhongli was a notorious smooth talker. He could convince anyone into agreeing to a contract with him, even if they were as opposed to it as could be. You were no fool to that fact. However, his unbelievable way with words paired with that silky smooth voice of his was something you could never get quite used to. After the start what you believed was a blossoming relationship between the both of you, were puzzled as your flowering relationship had now wilted and was reduced to dust.

~ A few days prior~

You used your hand to shield your eyes from the sun as you strolled along through Liyue Harbour. Summer in Liyue was pleasant. The sun shone brightly, silk flowers and violetgrass were in full bloom, the sky was clear and nothing seemed amiss. The street that you were making your venture through was lively. Vendors stood behind their stalls, ushering tourists and Liyuen people to come and buy their products. The occasional group of small children running past you, giggling and playing games as they ran. Adults stood in the shade of buildings, chatting as they watched the children play joyfully. You smiled as you felt comfort in the usual hustle and bustle of the city.

Hu Tao, your boss, had tasked you with a few errands to complete here and there, but nothing too unusual. Your first assignment was to pick up an order of Jade Parcels from Wanmin Resturant.

'Strange...' You thought as you scanned the list of items written by your boss one more time before shrugging.

Sure, Miss Hu Tao had always been an eccentric character. She was quite bizzare and nothing short of unusual, however you knew better than to question her. She was an amazing boss, always made the right decisions, and was an incredible businesswoman.

"Good afternoon, Chef Mao," you greeted the owner of the restaurant as you approached, offering a small smile to him.

"Good afternoon, [Name]! It's a pleasure to see you here, as usual!" Chef Mao replied in his usual loud, jovial tone, "What brings you here today? Here to try Xiangling's new Slime Violetgrass special?"

You inwardly grimaced at the name of the ingredients alone, "As lovely as that sounds, I'll unfortunately have to decline. I'm here for this."

You named the dish that you were tasked to collect. Chef Mao smiled and told you he'd be just a second, disappearing into the kitchen section of the restaurant. You decided to take a seat as you waited, enjoying the simple interior of the dining area. As you sat down, you subconsciously began to fiddle with one of the buttons on your outfit.

As per Miss Hu Tao's request, your attire was a slight alteration of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour uniform, the dark brown colours reminiscent to the colours that adorned your boss's clothes. The colourful accents of your outfit were customised to be your favourite colour. The length of the outfit and your sleeves were perfectly tailored in a way that fitted you.

Soon enough, Chef Mao returned to the front of the shop, handing you a lunchbox which held the meal that you had come for. You thanked the chef, handing him an appropriate sum of money in exchange for the meal. He responded with his signature grin and waved as you left.

~

Before you knew it, the sky had adopted a warm orange and pink hue as the sun began to retire for the day, allowing the moon to take its place for the night. You had long since returned from your errand venture and was idly sitting on a plush sofa, gazing out of the window next to your desk, watching the sun set.

You had finished your day's work, feeling a little bored as you now didn't have much else to do. An idea popped into your head. Silently smiling to yourself, you stood up from your sitting position, out of the room, and down one of the many hallways decorated with the portraits of the previous heads of the Funeral Parlour, stopping at one of the double doors that had a small name plate reading, 'Consultant Zhongli'.

"Finished with work so early, [Name]?" A smooth, deep voice spoke as you entered the room, almost as if the young man in front of you had sensed your presence.

"Good evening, Mr Zhongli," You responded with a slightly cheeky grin, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Of course not, [Name]. You're welcome here every time."

You welcomed yourself into the room, sitting on the sofas that were placed I'm Zhongli's office. After a while of just staring at the ceiling and tapping your fingers against your lap, you glanced over at Zhongli.

His chocolate brown hair framed his well-sculpted, handsome face perfectly as the tousled locks somehow managed to make him look as elegant and as proper as possible. Gold highlights that stood out from the rest of his hair glistened in the orange light that bled into the room. The shadows cast over his face due to the light source only added to the effect of his chizzled features. Shimmering gold eyes flickered over the documents on his table, his perfect, elegant gloved hands with beautiful fingers sorted through the several sheets of paper, the sound that emmited from his actions were drowned out as you continued to take in his appearance. You couldn't find any words to describe him. His ethereal beauty mesmerising you each time and leaving you at a loss for words.

To be completely honest, you had grown a maybe small, maybe moderately sized, maybe large crush on the brown haired man in front if you in the year you had been working at the Funeral Parlour alongside him. He was so regal in the way he carried himself. His mannerisms screamed elegance and he was incredibly kind to you. The way he addressed you as "dear" or "dear [Name] made your heart jump.

You were quickly pulled out of your trance when his golden hues suddenly flickered to you, as if he noticed you watching him. Your eyes widened as you quickly averted your gaze, the floor suddenly becoming so interesting as you stated at it intently. You could've sworn you saw him smile before you looked away from his face.

Zhongli stood up from his desk chair, the heels of his shoes clicking on the polished floors as he made his way towards you. He sat down quite close to you, the soft, plush material dipping under his weight. His close proximity and the heat you felt radiating from his body making your cheeks feel warm and your body tingle just a bit.

"Why is it that, once you finally get a break, rather than taking a rest, you instead come to me?" Zhongli chuckled, teasing you, "Is it that you want to hear another one of my stories?"

You almost jumped out of your skin as he leaned in towards you, your noses almost touching, a teasing smile present on his lips. His hand gently caressed yours that rested beside you on the plush sofa. Despite being so poised and proper, even Zhongli occasionally found joy in teasing you.

"I uh-" Your brain frizzled as you struggled to come up with a response. His presence alone was enough to fluster you, but him being this close wasn't something you were used to. The soft scent of caramel and sandalwood he carried gently wafted through the air and entered your nose. 'He smells so nice...'

Zhongli chucked again, this time his eyes crinkled slightly from his smile and he raised his knuckle to place under his chin as he laughed. His chuckle was so deep, yet smooth and airy, "No need to get so flustered, dear [Name], I merely jest."

You cleared your throat as Zhongli shifted back to his seating position, no longer leaning in towards you.

"What story would you like to hear today, my dear?"

~

About 30 minutes into listening to Zhongli's stories, your eyelids began to grow heavy. Zhongli was an amazing storyteller, his smooth, gentle, calming voice only added to his mesmerising way of telling his tales of the past. You quietly yawned, trying your best to stay awake to hear Zhonli's tale to the end but soon enough, you lost the battle to sleep.

Zhongli paused midway through his sentence as he felt a soft thump on his shoulder. He smiled, gently shaking his head fondly at you as he adjusted your body to a more comfortable position. Softly, he laid your head on his lap, stroking your head and brushing stray parts of your hair out of your face with his gloved hand. He gently stroked the side of your head, his warm hand slowly reaching down to caress your cheek. He gazed at your sleeping form, aware of the feelings he felt swirling in his chest but decided to supress them for now. Your face was warm, just like his hand. Chest rising and falling as you took deep breaths in your peaceful slumber. He silently chucked to himself as he saw your nose twitch when he gently poked your cheek.

After a few minutes of watching you sleep, Zhongli leaned over to grab a soft blanket, using it to cover you up to your shoulders. His body tensed as you stirred a little in your sleep from his movements but he soon relaxed once he saw you smile as you nuzzled your cheek into his thigh.

~

The next morning, you woke up feeling quite refreshed. You were in a state of being half asleep and half awake until your eyes suddenly jolted open, remembering what happened the night before. You had fallen asleep and rested your head on Zhongli's shoulder. You felt your palms grow clammy as your face heated up from embarrassment.

Why did you have to fall asleep in such an awkward position. You began to panic, worrying whether or not you snored or drooled on the brunette's shoulder. Just to make sure, you raised a hand to your lips to check if you had actually drooled, with caught the attention of the golden-eyed man.

"It seems you've awoken, dear. I must say, you are quite restless in your sleep." hearing Zhongli's voice first thing in the morning was an absolute blessing, but that was besides the point.

"Mr Zhongli!" You yelped, realising the position you were in. Your head was resting on his very soft, warm, plush thig- you get the idea. You quickly shot up and lowered your head in a small bow as an apology. Your face began to feel incredibly warm as you were slowly being swallowed by embarrassment.

"No need to apologise, my dear," He gave you a closed eye smile, a soft chuckle evident in his voice, "Your sleeping face was quite adorable."

His unusual yet charming comment made your heart skip a beat and your face feel warmer than it already did before.

"Ah, um, thank you?" you managed to squeeze out, wanting to bash your head against the wall for making your reply come out like a question.

The door clicked open, revealing Hu Tao with a cheeky smirk on her face, "My my, am I interrupting something?" she teased.

Your heart dropped into your stomach and out of your ass from the jumpscare. You wanted to hide your face in your hands as Hu Tao showed up at the door. Of all people, your boss had walked in on you resting your head on Zhongli's lap.

"I was a little worried when I saw neither of you two had checked out for the night yesterday, but I see why now~" Hu Tao's grin grew wider as she continued to tease you.

Zhongli stayed silent as he looked at you, as if he was waiting for you to reply.

You swallowed, "I'm really really reaaaally sorry, Director!" You apologised, bowing your head towards her.

She laughed, waving her hand from sire to side, "Oh, it's no biggie, [Name], you were dismissed for the day ayways when you decided to take a nap."

Hu Tao clapped her hands.

"Now, now, since it's not a busy day, how about you two put up advertisement posters in these places? Together?" She handed you a clipboard you swore she pulled out of thin air and gave Zhongli a stack of posters.

Her emphasis on the "together" gave you the impression that she gave you that assignment with something else on her agenda.

-

After the Director gave you (and Zhongli) your task for the day, you left his office to quickly head home and freshen up. Yesterday was quite warm, and you had sweat a lot more on your errand run than you would like to admit, which gave your clothes a dash of not so pleasant body odour. On top of that, you were sure you looked quite a mess.

You were halfway down the hall when a thought suddenly appeared in your mind. 'Did Zhongli sleep at all?'

-

Your little task with Zhongli had you feeling quite famished. You were in such a rush that you forgot to eat after you had freshened up, excited at the thought of spending a full day with your crush- I mean your senior who you admired very much.

Zhongli took notice of your slowed pace and slightly more jagged breathing and recommended you both rest at The Third Round Knockout for some tea before completing your little assignment. Of course, you accepted.

The seats you were outside the store and had quite a good view of the rest of the harbour. As you waited for your pot of tea to arrive, you caught Zhongli staring at a poster on a nearby wall. It was a poster for one of Xinyan's small concerts. You had heard about the concert taking place but you weren't quite sure about going.

"Are you interested in the concert?" You asked, surprised, not taking Zhongli for one to enjoy fast-paced, upbeat music like Xinyan's songs.

Zhongli's shoulders jolted ever so slightly, startled to be caught staring, "Oh, I enjoy Miss Xinyan's music very much," He mused.

"We should go together then. If you want to, that is-" Wow, [Name], real smooth.

The 'young' man smiled at your request, delighted that you asked him to accompany you in the first place, "sure," he returned with a closed eye smile.

-

Spending a day with Zhongli usually ended with a walk through the outskirts of Liyue Harbour, which you had grown fond of in the time you've spent with the man. This time, you found yourself walking with him in a comfortable silence. The pair of you passed the occasional small group of geo slimes or a geovishap that for some reason all kept their distance away from you. It was confusing to say the least, as usually, you had to fend then off tooth and nail with the polearm you were given by the Funeral Director as a gift a few months ago. Despite being visionless, you could still hold your own in a fight against a group of slimes.

Your short walk had extended to about an hour and the sun was beginning to set. Familiar, beautiful shades of orange and pink decorated the sky in a perfect blend. The colours of twilight presented themselves as a perfect combinations of night and day. Stars began to show themselves the further lower into the horizon the sun got. Zhongli was quiet next to you, silently enjoying the scenery of the sunset. Nothing seemed amiss and your surroundings began to stand still as it felt as if you were the only people in the world. Just you and-

Well, that was until the low rumbling of thunder snapped you out of your daydreaming state, clouds appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Before either of you could look up, rain began to descend from the sky. You raised the clipboard that you had received earlier that day over your head in a futile attempt to shield yourself from the pelting raindrops.

The rain showed no sign of stopping as your clothes began to grow damper and damper. Zhongli seamlessly removed his jacket and placed it over the both of you, pulling you close and using his arms to support the coat in some form of makeshift umbrella. His closeness to you and his arm on the side of your body, holding up his coat made your chest feel a pleasant warmth.

He turned his head to look at you, his damp strands of hair sticking to his face and his dress shirt hugging his figure due to the wetness of his clothes.

"We should look for a place to take shelter. I'll be fine, dear, we just don't want you catching a cold," His voice sounded like he was whispering in your ear.

"I agree, but you should look after your health too," You replied, quite flattered that Zhongli seemed to care for you so much, but a little worried for him too.

Zhongli chucked at your statement, the idea of looking after himself foreign to him, "Dear, I'm a-"

He suddenly stopped speaking, however his eyes showed that he had a lot more to say.

"What we're you going to say?" You tilted your head, a little confused.

"Ah, don't mind me," He shook his head, changing the subject, "I know a place we can take shelter until the rain stops."

You could tell there was something that Zhongli was keeping from you, but you decided it was best if you didn't pry. After all, everyone has their secrets.

Zhongli guided you to a small cave which looked like an appropriate shelter from the rain. By the time you had gotten there, your clothes were quite soaked and you felt like a wet mop. Gosh, you wished you had a pyro vision now.

"I come here on my walks around this area sometimes," Zhongli started, "It's a nice area to relax when I need a little peace and quiet."

He was right. The gave was littered with several ores of cor lapis. They glistened and glittered so much that they somehow provided as a light source inside the otherwise dimly lit area. You took notice of the rich, gold colour that strongly resembled Zhongli's eyes.

"It's a really pretty cave," you smiled, "the cor lapis are so shiny it makes it look like they're glowing"

Strangely, Zhongli looked quite proud at your comment about the cor lapis. Maybe he just really liked rocks?

~

"Oh, the rain's stopped." You looked out of the entrance of the cave.

"It seems so," Zhongli replied, following in suit and looking outside.

You decided to head back to the city and return home for he night.

The sun had completely set and the sky was now dotted with stars and the moon glowed proudly among the twinkling stars. The walk into the city with Zhongli was silent as there wasn't much to talk about. As you were walking, he had offered to drop you off at your home, which you accepted as long as it didn't cause him any trouble.

The night was quiet, the streets were mostly empty and few lights were on to illuminate your path. After reaching your door, you reached in your pocket to find your keys. Unlocking your door, you turned around to face Zhongli, returning the jacket he had leant you during your walk and thanked him. He smiled, reaching a warm, gloved hand to pat you on the head, gently shifting a few portions of your hair as he did.

His smile remained as his eyes seemed to be looking right through you, as if he was thinking about something.

"Mr Zhongli?" You called his name, snapping him out of whatever trance he was in.

He pulled his hand back and returned it to his side, collecting the jacket from you and taking a step back. He had a conflicted look on his face, which didn't suit him all too well as you were so accustomed to seeing him with a relaxed expression or the occasional soft smile.

"Goodnight, [Name]," he said in a flat tone, abruptly turning around and walking away before you could reply. He didn't even call you "dear", like he usually did.

His sudden departure left you perplexed. You were a little hurt at his sudden change in demeanour. Did you offend him? Did you do something wrong?

You couldn't think of anything as you blinked once, then twice, still stunned. This wasn't the first time something had happened like this with Zhongli. Sometimes, he was a little out of it, which was so unlike him. He would look like he wanted to say something and then quickly interrupt himself or say nothing at all. At first, you didn't notice his sudden change, but it was becoming too frequent to ignore.

'Just what was up with him?'

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

can i req where(after the meteor) reader is lying next to chishiya but felt like they met before,,the rest u can write up to u :)) ty for ur work!!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 || 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮

― pairing: chishiya shuntarou x plus size!reader

― season: 2

― summary: you were the last thing he saw when he bled out, and you were the first thing he saw when he had woken up, now all that's left is to put together the pieces of your past life romance.

― warnings: mentions of guns, mentions of people getting shot, niragi is warning within itself, aib s2 spoilers, chishiya bleeding out :[, hospitals, broken limbs, maybe ooc chishiya? depends on your interpretation of his character!, chishiya's sarcasm, fluff.

― wc: 1455

⋆ a/n: i decided to knock both of these out at once seeing as though they're roughly the same! this is my first ever chishiya fic on this profile, so thank you @phoenix666stuff and anon for your request!

masterlist | AO3

Everything happened so fast, from Niragi shooting Chishiya the first time, the ex-militant challenging them to a shootout, to your boyfriend-but not protecting Usagi from getting shot, taking the brunt of it as he fell to the ground. Arisu had shot Niragi, sending him flying off from the car that he was standing on.

“Chishiya!” Your scream echoed throughout the empty street as you ran toward the man you were in love with. “No, no, no, no...” You kept repeating to yourself as you put pressure on his wound. “You’re okay, Shuntaro, you’re okay.” Usually, Chishiya would’ve chided you for using his first name, but with the pain coming from his chest to the panic in your eyes, he couldn’t find himself able to muster up the energy to do so.

Arisu said your name, placing a hand on your shoulder as you turned to look at him with tears in your eyes. “We have to move him.” And move him you guys did, leaning him up against a car where you sat down next to him. “You’re not coming to the final game with us?” Usagi asked. You shook your head, taking your lover’s weak hand in yours. “No, I- I can’t leave him like this.” You whispered. “Don’t be an idiot.” You heard Chishiya say next to you. “I’m not. I’m staying here.” You said firmly. “What if something happens?” Arisu was unsure about leaving you out here in the open, so vulnerable.

“Then it happens, and I’ll handle it, but you guys have to go.” Usagi and Arisu shared a look before they both bent down to hug you, Usagi sparing you an even harder squeeze before she pulled away begrudgingly.

Back when you had first arrived at the Beach, you had found friendship within the mountain climber, the woman making this world much more bearable, fighting side by side with you as you completed games together. You could even say that she had grown to become your best friend.

“Why would you do that?” You turned your attention to the stubborn man. “Because I wanted to.”

A peaceful silence settled around the two of you before you broke it.

“You know, this was not the place I had imagined falling in love in.” There was a bitter smile on your face as you turned to look at him. “I guess there’s no reason to keep it a secret anymore. I love you, Chishiya Shuntaro, no matter how cruel or unempathetic you’ve been to me. I- I don’t regret meeting you, don’t regret being a part of your stupid plan back at the Beach, that I had finally found you again.” You had begun to tear up as he just stared at you. “I don’t know who I am to you, I don’t know if you feel the same despite all those nights we shared together in secret. I don’t know what waits for us on the other side, I- I don’t even know if were going to make it out of this, but if we do, I swear, I will find you.”

“I do.” He groaned. “You what?” You asked with furrowed brows. “I feel the same.” You laughed deliriously, looking like a lunatic with dried blood and tears on you. “Who knew it would take you until you were dying to tell me.” Your comment had caused that shit-eating smirk you loved but also hated so much to spread on his face. You leaned down hesitantly, placing a kiss on his lips. He reciprocated your affections the best he could before your amorous exchange was interrupted by the question of,

“Say yes if you would like permanent residency, say no if you wish to return.”

“What are you going to pick?” You asked after you firmly declared that no, you do not want to stay there. “I don’t want it, I think.” You smacked him light-heartedly, “Don’t be an ass.” He snorted. His hands squeezed yours to bring your attention back to him. “What do you think is going to happen now?” You were overcome with anxiety as you asked him. “I don’t know.” And that was the last thing he had said to you before everything went black.

One moment you were walking to your favorite convenience store, the next there were comets flying in the sky in broad daylight before disaster struck. For the moments that you had been rendered unconscious, you felt as though you had been sent to a far away before you were awoken by EMT’s pulling your body out from under the rubble of fallen buildings, frantically searching for life behind your bleary eyes. Your body was assaulted by overwhelming feelings of pain in every single part of you during your short-lived consciousness, before you had passed out, once again.

Beeping. There was annoying beeping sounding from all around you. Groaning, you peeled your eyes open, which felt like they had been encrusted closed. ‘A hospital room, how lovely’ you couldn’t help but think. “What the hell happened?” You mumbled to yourself, your voice a terrible rasp. A nurse tending to another patient turned to answer you. “There was a comet that destroyed Shibuya. Your heart, and many others even stopped for a minute.” It was almost impossible to wrap your head around what she was saying. It felt way longer than a minute.

Turning your head to your right, you were met with a man with long bleached blonde hair, just staring off into the distance in front of him.

“You in here for the same thing?” You couldn’t help but ask. When he turned to look at you, something familiar settled in your gut. His eyes made you angry as well as shy, like you had gazed into them many times before. “Mhm.” Was all that you had gotten back from him. It was a short response, a valid one to give someone you didn’t know, but he didn’t stop looking at you either. Your heart sped up, which was obvious due to the machine hooked up to you.

The day had bled into night, and upon further inspection from doctors, you were cleared to go home the next day with only a broken arm. A part of you didn’t want to leave your roommate that you had grown fond to in such a short amount of time. Even though you two had soon gotten to know each other through the night, it felt like you had already known that he was a doctor before he had told you, like it wasn’t anything new. He didn’t look all that surprised when you told him about your life as well, as if he felt the same. You grew to find that his name was Chishiya.

You didn’t have much to take home from the hospital, besides your dirty clothes that you had reluctantly put back on. There was dirt and grime all over them, but it felt better than walking out into the busy streets of Tokyo in those hospital gowns that made you feel like you were naked. It was safe to say you were disappointed to find the man that you had embarrassingly grown a crush on in such a short amount of time was gone from his bed, sheets rustled and blanket discarded.

Letting out a sigh, you left the room, heading towards the stairs until you heard someone pipe up from behind you.

“Leaving without saying goodbye?” Chishiya asked in amusement. You turned around, a small smile on your face. “I didn’t know where you were.” He leant on his crutch so that he could lift a bottle of juice clasped in his free hand before lowering his arm back down. “Have they told you when you’re going to be released?” He hummed, “Tomorrow.” He said simply before taking a sip of his drink. His eyes stayed trained on you as you looked to the side before back to him.

“I- uh. Goodbye?” You chuckled awkwardly. Chishiya swallowed his drink, fighting against the whirlwind of emotions brewing inside of him. Even though his face didn’t show it, he felt a constant pull towards you, he did even before you had awakened from your slumber, unable to help his curiosity as he found himself in a hospital room. It was at that moment that he realized that he couldn’t let you go, something inside of him couldn’t allow you to leave.

“A coffee couldn’t hurt.” Was all he said. Your eyebrows furrowed before they raised. “Are you asking me out?” You asked unsurely, albeit hopefully.

He hummed. “If that’s what you’d like to call it.” You broke out into a fuller smile this time. “Then yes, a coffee couldn’t hurt.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood

[dramionefanfiction]

Daily Dose of Dramione fanfiction 89:

The Rights and Wrongs Series by Lovesbitca8 (Rated MA)

The Right Thing To Do Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, but she was a stupid girl.

All The Wrong Things Sequel to "The Right Thing to Do" - Draco's POV. Part 2 of the "Rights and Wrongs" series.

The Auction In the wake of the Dark Lord’s triumph over Harry Potter, the defeated must learn their new place. Hermione Granger, former Golden Girl, has been captured and reduced to human chattel. Sold to the highest bidder as the top prize at an auction of Order members and sympathizers, she is thrust into the rabid, waiting hands of the Death Eaters. But despite the horrors of Voldemort’s new world, help—and hope—seem to arise from the most unlikely of places.

PART 3 of the RIGHTS AND WRONGS series.

COMPLETE: Yes TYPE: Multi-Chapter CATEGORY: Post-Hogwarts, EWE

MY OPINION: I honestly didn't enjoy these fics as much as I expected I would. SPOILERS Once I found out they liked each other back in school I was struggling to finish it because to me it made everything so OOC. I forced myself to get through the first two fics so that I could enjoy the Auction properly...but then the Auction felt like a giant cock block. It just wasn't dark or triggering enough for me unfortunately (especially after reading Manacled and expecting that level of dark and non con etc). I think I just wanted MORE. With that being said I really liked the writing style and the quality of it and how in depth the fic was and all of the ideas behind it.

I loved listening to it on Spotify with ETL Echo once again.

Rating: 2.5/5

[listenheresweaty]

UPDATE: c!wilbur content + another poll!! Read carefully.

So the poll hasn’t finished yet, but it seems that the majority will be okay with c!wilbur works. I WILL, however, wait a while before posting so people can take a break and fully separate the c from the cc. In the future, if you do NOT want to see c!wilbur content but do not want to block me (I will be trying to write for other characters, after all), here are some options:

Block the tags “c!wilbur and c!wilbur soot X reader”

Unfollow me and follow the not-yet-created tag of “sweaty writes— not Wilbur”. I will be tagging any of my non-Wilbur works with that tag, so following it without following me will expose you only to the non-Wilbur works (if any arrive). You may still have to block c!wilbur X reader tags.

If neither of these work for you, unfollowing and blocking is a valid option. I won’t be upset, promise :)

As for the actual c!wilbur content— good news! Y’all get to choose the bur variation I will write for after my break. Each option has its own pros and cons, so READ THEM CAREFULLY!!

POLL IS BELOW ALL THE WRITING!!!!!!

(before reading; there is nothing wrong with morally gray characters— I love them actually— but some people might not want them associated with any bursonas after what the cc did)

anyway, the options:

Faebur

Pros: This bur is not affiliated with the content creator in any way. In addition, the nature of the fae will allow me to never mention his name (he will be referred to as “your fae friend” or by a nickname such as “Twigs”, and never “Wilbur”). His appearance will also have some supernatural aspects that distinguish him from the cc (gold eyes, pointy ears, yada yada).

Cons: I have only the barest idea of what to write. So. It will take a while. Like— a WHILE. Also, the fic will probably focus on descriptions, so some physical aspects similar to the cc’s will appear (lanky, tall, brown hair, yada yada).

Chefbur

Pros: Also not affiliated with the cc! This one is my own creation. It is basically a Ratatouille au. He will also be called Wilbur Craft (full name Wilson Craft) instead of Soot. I already have some notes down for the development of the fic, and parts one and two are already posted. Cons: He will be called “Wilbur” throughout the fic, and his appearance is obviously very similar to c!wilbur (that is, a cartoonized/stylized version of the cc. Not the same. Probably will make his eyes hazel or something. Or not mention them at all idk).

Revivebur

Pros: I wrote this one so long ago (over a year) that it is borderline ooc, which might me helpful for some. Also, I have it written and ready to go (ALTHOUGH I will still take a break before posting it). Cons: it’s c!wilbur (derived from the cc’s creation), and the fic deals with themes such as forgiveness / loving someone despite their misdeeds that made everyone hate them, which… is not a very good thing to be associating with Wilbur soot rn. Even though it’s the c! And completely separate from the cc. Also the writing is kind of bad,,,

Siren (1)

Pros: I have a good chunk of the story written out, and he will be referred to as “siren” and not “Wilbur” (but not for the entire story). Siren is also not affiliated with the cc (someone else’s creation).

cons: I have hit a complete roadblock with it and am struggling to figure out how tf I should progress the plot. Also, siren in his civilian form looks a lot like the cc (similar argument to chefbur). Also, it has similar themes to the revivebur story (even though they aren’t as pronounced). Siren is a literal criminal (supervillain) whose literal murder/arson/treason/etc charges are overlooked (even though he’s still a respectful person), and that might not sit right for some rn.

Siren (2):

Pros: idk really his name isn’t going to be mentioned for the first few parts (only referred to has “siren” and not Wilbur)

cons: I have some very specific ideas for this series, and I love them a lot (even though they deal with some dark topics), but do not know how to string them together yet. May take a very long time. Also neither Siren nor the reader are very good people (but they try their best. And the reader improves a little). May take longer than the faebur one.

Lmanbur

Pros: no morality discussed. Just two idiots in love. I have a sequence of events written out, so I won’t struggle to figure out what comes next. ..

cons: ..however I will struggle to find how to put it into cohesive paragraphs since the outline is pretty barebones. Lmanbur is another character originally created by the cc, and his appearance follows a similar path as chefbur and civilian siren (I may give Lmanbur some pointy ears though). Also. The fic has no nsfw at all, but it is definitely a lot spicier than whatever I’ve posted on this blog, and I’m. Not sure if it belongs on this blog. Please reach out to me if you are an ADULT and willing to be a sensitivity reader to discern whether it’s actually suggestive or just my Catholic upbringing.

With that being said….,,,,

[clockworkspider]

So I've written over 100 fanfics by now and probably read at least 20 times more than that and for better or worse, I'm one of those people who has an unhealthy obsession with characters being "IC". It's a sickness, really.

But to me, there are 3 parts of writing a character very IC in a fanfic.

The character voice.

Getting the MO, the key motivation and characterization

Whether you can actually empathize with the character, if they're your "muse"

1. The Voice

The character voice is how the character talk and behaves and their general narrative tone. It's the first impression of "does this feel like them". If you're writing from the POV of a very rough-around-the-edges character and you write in a very romantic, wordy style, it'll feel off. If you get this part wrong people gets immediately thrown off, if you get the tone right you can be completely wrong about the characterization but your fic could still feel convincing enough.

If I have the character voice and nothing else, I can write the character as background character/plot device, but I can't get anything interesting out of them. They're a puppet I can make say words I want them to say, in their voice.

2. MO

If I get the MO/characterization, I can now predict what they'd do in any situation. I can now dissect their thoughts and write very long metas on them on tumblr dot com. A lot of times I only get this from the character but not their voice, which means I can't actually write them into stories no matter how much I love them. Sometimes you see this in fics where it's like... damn you dove right into the core issues of this character and you clearly understand them very well but by the gods they would not fucking say that, not this way.

If I get both the MO and the voice, then I can write the character as a side-character in a fic. They'll behave/act like they do in canon and people can say it feels like this is something right out of canon, but without the third part I can't evolve them beyond where they are canonically. If I can get both 1+2 I can write the character as a POV character, but have the focus on someone else.

3. Empathy/Muse

So the empathy bit is... a bit like magic for me. I still don't know how to force it, I wish I could. This determines on whether I'm actually inspired to write for the character. SOMETIMES MY OCs DON'T EVEN GET HERE AND I MADE THEM. If I can fully empathize with a character they feel alive to me and they write themselves. I normally have to fix their voice a bit cause I have a writing/talking style, but they're alive and I can grow them a bit while adhering to their canonical MO. This is the character that can pull the fic forward, lead the conversation in a dialogue, etc.

Sometimes authors have this point, but not 1 or 2, that's how you get really OOC fics where the author does some wild projection. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this. I can't personally enjoy it, tho.

idk the process for other people but that's how I process if a character is "IC" or not while writing and while reading.

[vivalabunbun]

To start off, I'm sorry I'm such a boomer on Tumblr that even after years of using it all I know is how to follow, like posts, and post something myself 😭😭😭 So I don't blame you if you don't have the slightest clue of who I am. But on my part, I have been following your works for a while now and I just *absolutely* adore how you write.

I keep finding myself coming back to reread your fics despite already remembering the exact plot by heart after the first or second go 😭😭 I love how you characterize, not just Alhaitham, but the other character in the story extremely well. You explored all of their potential aspects and presented them all so naturally, and I can't imagine how much work you have to spend behind each fic you wrote. Especially with Alhaitham. Your Haitham is my canon Haitham, to simplify the progress of explaining how well you wrote him to me.

Your writing is poetic and expressive. It just pushed all the right button in me. And I absolutely ****love**** the little science-y facts and nerdy little details you put in your fic. Not to mention your taste is almost if not identical to mine too 😭😭😭😭 I'm very picky with Alhaitham's portrayal in his fanfics, yet yours made me completely settle my standards and patiently waiting for your next fic instead of searching for more.

So, I have been meaning to do a little something for my favorite writer-slash-storyteller. And here is a little Mareya fanart ✨ It's not much but I hope its up to your liking

P/s: I think that you have the tendency to get anxious about your work? I just wanna say that it's okay, you and your work doesn't have to be perfect everytime and always better than the last. Regardless of what you wrote, me and the others will still always support you 🌱 I know it's not much and it probably won't get rid of the doubts in an instance, but I will remind you of that as many times as needed ✨

P/s 2: House of Daena succs, background succs x2 ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

I feel so honored that you drew my lil story teller 🥹😭🙏 Thank you so much!!! It’s so good and the background is 💕💕💕

Thank you so much for your encouragement and support 🥹��� your words are like a nice hug

I do have a tendency to doubt my writing bc sometimes there’s just so many things I want to say/ try but it doesn’t work out all the time.

How I portray Alhaitham is always a concern bc I want to explore him but not be so ooc, but it look like a lot of people feel satisfied with the middle ground I’ve been tiptoeing.

Thank you for looking forward to my next works 🥹 life has been… life so my rate has slowed but hopefully my past pieces still evoke the same joy

Ahh I love your art style 🫶✨

[inquisitor-gayfax]

✨ Fic Planning and Outlining ✨

Outlining is a huge part of my writing process and something I love talking about, so since I’m currently suffering something of a writer’s block, I’ve put together a step-by-step explanation of my process below. It is important to note that there is no right answer or best way to outline; as with most things it’s just a matter of finding what works best for you!

I would love it if other folks chimed in and added to this with their own tips and tricks!

Let’s learn from each other!

Outlining Tools & Overall Organization

To start with, I use OneNote to organize everything, but there are a ton of programs out there, and you could even do this with different .txt/word files! The main reasons I like OneNote: (1) oo pretty colored tabs (2) tab folders for making sense of the giant pile of WIPs:

So, I have all the things I’m “actively” working on out in the open, then squirrel away everything else in one of five categories: completed (yay!), short, medium, and long WIPs, then a catch-all category for everything that doesn’t really fit anywhere else.

The Outlining Process

To demonstrate and (hopefully) have a little fun, I’m going to pick a half-baked idea from the “WTF – Miscellany” category and create a new tab as if I’m actually going to write it! So, without further ado, let’s dive in and begin outlining for a multi-chapter AU fic wherein Rogal Dorn and Perturabo are high school girls’ volleyball coaches!

First Page: Tags ‘n Such

I often hear that tags can be the hardest part for writers, which is interesting because this is usually where I start! Something about seeing my fic in the summary format it will eventually appear in on AO3 is very motivating to me, and helps guide my writing. You can always add/change later.

Here is the template I use for easy copy/pasting!

Title: Fandom(s): Rating: Category: Archive Warnings: Relationship(s): Character Tags: Other tags: Summary:

And here’s a screenshot of my first pass for this WIP:

This gives me a chance to talk about one of my FAVORITE writing hacks, which is… [BRACKET TEXT].

I don’t know about everyone else, but my brain consistently feels the need to get everything perfect on the first try, which is very unhelpful and actively counter-productive! I’ve found that when I can’t get the phrasing of something just right, or I’m still not sure what I’m going for, putting some brackets around the text in question and just scribbling whatever’s in my mind at the moment allows me to move on without getting bogged down.

If it’s in brackets, I give myself permission to be silly, OOC, anachronistic, or messy, and boy is it a lifesaver sometimes.

Once I have the AO3 info fields done, I draw a little line below the summary and start filling in what I call the “brainstorm space” (that inevitable turns into a mini-outline I need to move over to another page at some point). This is another place I allow myself to be messy. I scribble down thoughts on narrative structure, inspirations, setting, key moments/scenes, themes, motifs, stuff I absolutely need to include, and any overarching things that will be helpful to have before planning in earnest.

Here’s what it looks like for this fic:

Not much there now, but it’s a start, and that’s what outlining is all about!

Second Page: Detailed Outline

A bit of a note here – I used to have a separate page for a “mini-outline,” i.e. a less detailed version, but the brainstorm space basically serves this purpose now, so it’s less common.

This is where the actual structural planning starts to take place. I’ve gotten into the habit of using bracket text here, too, to serve as shorthand summaries of each point. For a multi-chapter fic, I’ll also make sure to note where I think the chapter boundaries will fall, though obviously this is subject to change.

So, a barebones one for this fic might look something like this:

There’s not much there right now, but that’s fine, because (1) it’s in bracket text and (2) this is just the skeletal structure for what comes next: filling it in as you get inspiration.

My brain tends to want to write longfics, but never linearly, of course. Sometimes I get raw bursts of inspiration for scenes, so the way I work with this is to scribble (on my phone, on the computer, in a physical notebook) whatever it is down at the moment I get it, then plug it in to the existing outline later. This way, I end up building a pretty comprehensive plan for the fic before I even open a word document, and it’s easier to make big choices like chapter contents, scene order, and story progression without feeling like I need to tear apart something that’s already fairly set in stone.

Here's an example of what a partially filled-in outline looks like, from my Celefax Gothic Mystery AU WIP:

Note that this one is in chart form, which is what I usually go with for longfics for better separation of scenes and ideas.

Pagestravaganza: Additional Pages for Longfics

For one-shots and shorter multi-chapter fics, typically the Tags/Brainstorming and Detailed Outline pages are enough to get me ready to write, but for longfics, there’s a lot more to think about, and additional places to take notes can be helpful.

Here’s an example of all the pages in the tab for that Celefax AU I mentioned above, which has a lot of characters and worldbuilding and all sorts of things that would be difficult to encapsulate in an outline alone:

For one of my other longfic WIPs, I also have a page where I write down revision notes for the parts I’ve already written as they come to me, so it’s easy to refer back to during the editing process (which I could write a whole other post about).

Another thing I sometimes like to do, especially for one-shots or fics that are from only one character’s POV, is write out a paragraph or two about character emotional arcs. Plot is great, but it can be hard to know where that takes you if you don’t know where each character is starting out and where they end up.

To summarize: The sky’s the limit here. Whatever you need to do to make sure everything comes together, however you need to organize it, however little makes it into the final draft, your outlining/planning document is for you, and you shouldn’t get too bogged down into what needs to be there or whether it’s clean and pretty. As long as it’s helpful to you, it is serving its purpose admirably, and even if it isn’t you’re still learning what does and doesn’t work for you. The way I outline is a constantly evolving process, and different things work for different fics. Feel free to play around!

Writing the Dang Thing

This is the end result, the task for which all your outlining has (hopefully) prepared you!

I’ll be honest: I loathe first drafts. (See above comment about everything needing to be perfect the first time around.)

It’s probably for this reason that I outline so fastidiously, because when I plop my bracket text outline and any pre-written snippets into my first draft, it feels so much less daunting than staring at a blank page.

I can start to fill in the pieces I neglected (scene setting, always), figure out where there might be a need for more connective tissue, and tackle the bite-sized chunks my bracket text outline has created one at a time.

I keep doing that until, ta da! A workable first draft emerges, and we move on to editing, my beloved.

Hopefully this has been interesting/helpful, and please please pleeeeease feel free share your own methods and thoughts and funny bracket text!

[nostalgia-tblr]

20 Questions For Writers

I got tagged by @thot-son-of-odin for this!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

412 (plus some Anonymous works that aren’t counted in that number)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

777,634

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Doctor Who (old and new), various Star Treks, the MCU, and a few others including Elementary and M*A*S*H.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Trust the Devil

2. Four Times the Doctor and Clara Shared a Bed and One Time They Didn't

3. Locks And Revelations

4. Responsibility

5. How To Walk On Eggshells

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I didn’t used to but I try to now. It took me a while to get past “if I thank them for the kind words that means I agree and they can call me big-headed!” but now I think perhaps the commenter and I will become friends, as though this was still the LJ days or whatever.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I am answering these together to say that with 412 works it’s rly hard to come up with an answer because I’m bound to forget something that’s either angstier or happier than the one I pick D:

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

No, despite writing occasionally Problematic stuff. Maybe I’m just lucky with that? I think on AO3 the worst I’ve ever got is a comment or two on Ten/Reinette fic about how it is a TERRIBLE pairing and how dare anyone write it. I think I deleted those, or if I haven’t then I meant to, because fuck it they’re properly tagged so the enraged anons must have deliberately chosen something that would offend them.

This sort of thing is why I still have an automatic flinch reaction when people tell me they like Rose Tyler.

9. Do you write smut?

Of course not! I write very thoughtful and insightful character studies in which the characters being studied fuck, that’s COMPLETELY different!

10. Do you write crossovers?

Not often, I’m more into the idea of crossovers than actually writing (or reading) them.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah, a few times.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes but not for years.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I’m going to say Doctor/TARDIS because that’s a safe answer to such questions.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Never say never – I’ve had ideas that did finally get written a decade later.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I think it’s dialogue, which is also usually the easiest part to write. (I am a bit of a Fic Snob about how characters should sound like themselves in fic, including in AU fics where is even more important and also if they go OOC in those then that should be the point that’s being made.)

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

The bits that aren’t dialogue. Urgh, why must things need to be described! Why must I tell the reader who is speaking!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Well I usually see it in the context of “a phrase or word in the language we assume the characters are actually speaking” (mostly pet-names, for some reason) and that just makes me go “So what language are they speaking in the rest of this story? In the rest of this sentence, even?” Not a fan of this, nah.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars! :O

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I dunno, there’s too many of them (same problem as before).

I tag anyone what wants to do this meme!