#guess it's the correct for this one? I don't usually think about who to tag first

[kabsey]

A Word with Friends: Avarice

Thank you for the tag, @chaosherald, and thank you for the word, @hedwigoprah! I will gently tag @the-sparrohawk, @sharpest-tongue, and @beepoven if any of you would like to join and have not yet been tagged this week.

"And if you win the bet, you get all of the gold."

Spite looked up from his cards with a wide grin. "All of? The gold?"

Rook laughed. "Yep. All of it." She leaned her elbow on the table and her chin on her fist. "Do you actually want gold, or do you just want nobody else to have it?"

"Yes," Spite replied. "All mine. And gold. To spend."

"What would you spend it on?" Rook asked.

Spite looked back at his cards. He pulled one from his hand and turned it sideways and then turned his head to match. "A journal," he said. "All mine. No crossing out. By Lucanis."

Rook made a mental note to pick up a blank notebook and something to write with the next time she went to the market. Pencils were probably safe. If you stabbed someone with them, they usually broke before you got to anything important.

"Anything else?"

Spite nodded and met her gaze again. "Knives."

Laughing again, Rook replied, "Lucanis has lots of knives. How many more do you need?"

Spite's grin showed all of Lucanis's teeth. "All mine."

"Careful," Rook warned. "People are going to start thinking you're a Demon of Greed."

"Not Greed," Spite corrected. "Avarice."

Rook raised an eyebrow. "Is there a difference?"

Spite shrugged. "To them." Then he sniffed disdainfully. "Snobbish."

"Well, that makes sense." She tapped her lips in thought. "What kind of a spirit becomes an Avarice Demon?"

With a distracted air, Spite shrugged again. "Lots." He reached across the table and pulled all the cards toward him into a messy pile. "Wisdom wants. More knowledge. Valor wants. More accolades. Ambition wants. More power."

"Huh. Guess I know what would have happened to Viago in the Ossuary." Rook tossed her hand of cards to Spite, who gathered them into his pile gleefully. "Illario's practically an Envy Demon already. I don't know about Teia. Rage maybe."

She rested her forearms on the table and leaned forward. "What kind of demon do you think I would have become?"

Frowning, Spite shook his head. "You weren't. In there. Don't belong. In there." His interest in the cards seemed to wane as he slumped in his chair until he was only pushing one around the table while he sulked.

"I know," Rook assured him. "I was just curious." She ducked down to try and catch his eye. "Hey! Maybe I would have attracted a Curiosity Spirit."

Spite shook his head again, still not meeting her gaze. "Connection," he muttered.

"Connection?" Rook repeated. "Is that a kind of spirit? I don't think I've ever heard of it."

"Rare," Spite said. When he looked up at her, his playful grin had been replaced by a sorrowful expression. "Born when. People come together."

"I guess we don't do that enough, huh?" she murmured. By Spite's expression, she knew she probably shouldn't ask, but she couldn't help herself. "And what kind of demon does a Spirit of Connection become?"

He sighed. "When Connection. Is gone. There is. Oblivion."

"A Demon of Oblivion?" Rook asked.

"Yes. All bonds. Are broken. Even memory."

Spite suddenly lunged across the table to clutch Rook's arm. "If we fight," he demanded with intensely glowing eyes. "Kill it quickly. I don't want. To forget. Not Lucanis. Not Rook."

Rook grabbed onto his wrist, squeezing just as tightly. "You won't. I promise. And you said they were rare, right?" She shifted her fingers to his hand and peeled it from his tight grip on her arm to hold it in her own. "We probably won't ever have to fight one."

The intense burn in his eyes slowly faded to the usual purple, and he dropped his gaze to the table. Rook stood from her chair, still holding his hand, and moved closer to him.

"Still want to play cards?" she asked.

Spite shook his head. "Will you? Read?" he asked quietly.

"Sure."

She tugged him from his seat and wrapped her arms around him. "Sorry," she said. "I won't ask about that stuff anymore."

"Good," he muttered into her hair. "It's rude."

Rook pulled back to look up at him. "Forgive me?"

Spite pouted at her. "No."

She laughed softly and nodded. "Fair enough. Let's pick a book."

[murainhell]

I still have a lot of catching up to do, but I wanted to do a little something for the anniversary of Stolen Moments as I enjoy everything @mothballmilkshake writes so much.

Part 12 with Alastor using the moment to mess with poor Husk made me laugh a lot. Also, fond of Part 7 because I always enjoy hurt/comfort fics, and I can't forget "I don't think you can glue (the antler) back on" for some reason pfff

[connorsui]

Marked in Metal

Caleb... loves ... buying you rings.

It wasn’t something you directly questioned—at least, not seriously. He had always been like that, always finding little things to slip into your life as a form of joy. Bracelets, necklaces, little earrings here and there.

But ...rings?

Oh, those were his favorite.

— Princess cut, Briolette, Trilliant, Radiant.

Oval and round. The entire catalog.

And it wasn’t just about the aesthetic. No, it was something else entirely—something unspoken in the way he always lingered just a second longer when slipping the ring onto your finger, something in the way his eyes darkened with quiet satisfaction whenever you lifted your hand, light catching on whatever new piece he had picked out for you.

Like now for instances.

"Here," he said one afternoon, handing you a small velvet box. His voice was casual, but his fingers brushed yours when you took it from him. "Saw this new piece on my way home and thought of you."

You barely glanced up from your work before popping the box open, the soft click of the latch followed by a quiet inhale as you took in the ring nestled inside. A smooth sterling silver band, sleek and polished, with fluted rose gold prongs holding a citrine gem. The cut was extravagant, the kind of thing that should have been reserved for engagement rings, but you had long stopped questioning Caleb’s taste.

"Caleb," you groaned, rolling your eyes but still sliding it onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as they always did. "You have to stop doing this."

"And why should I?" He smirked, leaning back against the couch, arm thrown over the backrest as he watched you admire the ring despite your protests. "Looks good on you."

You twisted your fingers, letting the metal catch the light. He could see it in your face—the way your lips curved slightly, the way your brows relaxed—that moment of pure, genuine appreciation. He memorized that expression every time.

Because no matter how much you insisted it was too much, you never turned them down.

And he never had to worry about you asking how much they cost.

But it wasn’t about the price anyway. It was about the way you wore them, the way your hands danced through the air when you talked, your fingers adorned with pieces he had chosen. It was about the quiet thrill of watching everyone else notice, of knowing that every time someone asked where you got them, your answer was always the same.

"Caleb, obviously. He’s the reason I have half my jewelry box."

That was enough for him.

But this one was different.

"Wait, Caleb?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, amused and lilting. "Did you know this was engraved?"

You held up the ring between your fingers, tilting it just enough for the small inscription inside to catch the light.

.C.

Delicate, subtle, almost invisible unless you were looking for it.

He raised a brow, feigning nonchalance. "Oh? …I don't actually remember seeing that anywhere?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You seriously didn't notice?"

"Guess not." He shrugged, and you huffed out a laugh, shaking your head.

"I don’t think I believe you."

He didn’t respond, only watching as you lifted your phone, snapping a picture. Within minutes, your messages flooded with the usual teasing.

"Another one? Does Caleb just collect rings for you now?"

"That’s basically a proposal, babe!"

"Correction. This is the one billionth proposal"

And, as always, your reply was the same.

"Of course it’s Caleb. Who else spoils me like this constantly?"

He loved that. Loved knowing that when others have noticed the rings on your fingers, they knew exactly who put them there.

But even when he adorned your hands, his own ring was different.

It never sat on his finger. It had its own place, strung securely onto the same chain as his tags, resting against his chest beneath the layers of his uniform.

Same material, same weight.

But the chain never left his body. It was there in the dead of night, cold against his skin. There in the thick of the day, clinking softly against metal. It was there when the world was loud and chaotic, when exhaustion pulled at his bones, grounding him with the quiet weight of something real.

Something that brought him back to you.

And when he returned home?

when he was finally home, the chain came off—but the ring never stayed in some forgotten drawer.

No, it belonged in the same place it always did.

Right where you were—pressed close against his heart.

[thinkinonsense]

Bewitched: The Rake and The Risk

˖⋆࿐໋ james logan howlett ✦ bridgerton au series

bewitched masterlist

chapter two

cw: flirting (mix of 1800s and modern day), jealousy, old time thoughts of women and marriage, james is a slut

pairing: viscount!logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: sorry this is later than intended! i try to aim for a new chapter every friday but college is kicking my ass right now. next chapter will be longer!! also!! if you want to be tagged for the bewitched series please comment on the original bewitched masterlist post linked above this<3 there are so many of you lovely readers who want to be tagged and i need a more organized way to find everyone to add. sorry for the minor inconvenience. i appreciate every one of you!!

main masterlist

in all the twenty-nine years of knowing james howlett, lady chamberlain never would have pictured him coming to her home to ask about the eligible bachelorettes of the ton.

"what do you want to know, my dear?" lady chamberlain asked, sipping a cup of tea as the two of them sat in the living room.

"i am coming to you because as you know, my mother is expecting me to wed sooner rather than later and i was wondering whom might be the best women to seek out this season." james said, lying through his teeth.

if james really wanted to know who the best women this season were, he would've just opened the latest issue of lady cavanaugh. both of them knew this but it was more fun for lady chamberlain to tease the viscount.

"hm.." she smiles. "anyone in particular?"

"no."

the lie falls with ease. too much ease but lady chamberlain sees right through him.

"well, i did take note last night that the only lady you danced with was lady worthington's niece." she remarks slyly.

"the french girl?" he asks, playing coy. "i think i remember her."

lady chamberlain wasn't going to play games with the boy in front of her.

"i would hope so, you seemed quite fawned of her."

"i don't know if i would say that much."

"hm, so you don't want to know who she's planning to attended the mask ball with?" lady chamberlain smirks, knowing she's got him hooked.

everyone in the ton looked forward to the queens mask ball each season. it was the perfect way to help break the usual ice of finding 'the one'. that's where most couples tend to meet for the first time.

"let me guess..." james rolls his eyes. "prince harrison?"

lady chamberlain shrugs, placing her tea cup back on the dish. "the two of them talked quite a bit after you stormed off. she seems quite smitten with him."

"it's the first ball of the season. she has plenty of time to look for a better husband." he scoffs.

"well, dear... there are people who search their whole lives for something that's been right in front of them the entire time."

the elderly woman's words rang true in the room but james was far too in denial to notice them. instead, his ego was eating him alive. why would you not jump at the opportunity to be with the viscount?

˖⋆࿐໋

this afternoon was the queen's annual tea party. all the ton's debutantes gather to make friends and share their predictions for this season. anxiously, you paced the cobblestones outside, waiting for the carriage to pick you up.

"dear, it's not lady-like to pace back and forth." your aunt calls out from the doorway.

"my apologies," you reply, not stopping your feet.

"you're snagging the hem of your gown!"

thank heavens that the carriage was approaching. she waves you off, wishing you luck on your first adventure alone in the ton, wishing desperately she could join you.

your goal today is to make at least one friend. you'll even settle for an allied.

once you arrive at the queen's castle, you step inside. covered in soft pastels, flowers, and butterflies; you immediately feel calm. everyone is chatting and sipping tea at the tables. you sit down in the first available seat.

"you're the diamond, correct?" someone whispered next to you asks.

you turn your head to see a blonde girl to the right. she's wearing a soft yellow dress that doesn't quite fit her right.

"correct." you nod, offering the girl a smile to which she returns.

"shouldn't you be sat with the queen?" she asks, nodding to one of the beautiful girls surrounding the queen.

"probably but this was the first seat i saw." you joke, sipping on your tea.

the girl laughs with a small nod and introduces herself. her name is bridget and her father is a jewelry maker for the queen.

"i saw you dancing with the viscount last night at the ball." she smiles. "do you fancy him?"

almost choking on your tea, you shake your head.

"no, no, no. i don't fancy the viscount." you state.

bridget hesitates, watching your body language closely. the pressure gets you to speak up again.

"why do you ask?"

"because the viscount is a major rake."

the word rake rolls off her tongue with pure disgust. you'd never heard someone with such respect as a viscount be called something so dishonorable. rakes were known for their ability to seduce and lead on women with no promise of marriage.

"but he talks of his desire for a wife?" you question, more to yourself than to bridget but alas, she answers anyway.

"only because his mama is practically begging for a viscountess." bridget whispers.

you suppose this made sense due to the fact that most rakes never even intend to wed and after your conversation with james last night, he made it clear that marriage was not something he craved.

"trust me, you aren't the first lady to attempt to tie down the viscount. well, at least you have a shot since you're the diamond this season and all." the blonde girl rambles.

"oh, heavens no!" you repeat.

"hm, that's sad..." she sighs. "he is quite handsome."

"most definitely but i intend to wed for pure reasons."

"if that's truly the case, stay as far away from the viscount as possible."

˖⋆࿐໋

for the rest of the afternoon, bridget's words stuck to the front of your brain. if james wasn't so intolerable, perhaps he would make a good husband to someone.

once everyone finished with their tea, you decided to go sketch in wisteria park. the weather was beautiful outside and gave you the perfect inspiration needed to work on a new piece. normally, you would only draw on the sides of the letters written to your father back home. no one was more supportive of you than your parents. in a world where women mean nothing more than their wombs to society, it was rare to have parents who let their daughters have dreams.

sat on a patch of grass near the small pond, you set up your quill, small tray of paints, and paper. in the area where you decided to sit, across from you stood a beautiful cherry tree. as you work on the outline, you can hear footsteps approaching.

"i should've known i would find you here." a familiar voice says.

you don't even glacé up at the person near you, paying no mind to the man who seeks your attention most.

"do you want something, my lord?" you ask, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

james' head spun every time those last two words fell from your lips, sounding to pretty the way that they roll of your tongue.

"you may call me, logan." he says. "if you so wish."

"logan?" you cock a brow, finally looking up at him.

"it's my middle name." he replies awkwardly.

"hm..." you pretend to ponder for a moment. "that's far too personal for me."

" 'too personal'? how might that be?"

james stands arms crossed against the cherry tree, glaring in your direction. you don't rush to answer his question instead you continue adding details to the branches and trees. he huffs under his breath, clearly irritated your lack of interest in him.

"well, we have no intentions to be together this season and we aren't friends so, there's no need for nicknames and such." you reply nonchalantly.

"you don't know my intentions"

a sweet giggle escapes you. james brushes off the warmth flooding his chest, rather focusing on topic at hand.

"oh, i bet i do."

suddenly, you drop your quill and give him your undivided attention.

"why are you even here, james?" you sigh.

"i was visiting an old friend this morning and wanted a stroll through the park."

"an old friend?"

the words left your lips before you could stop yourself. james was quick to notice the tone shift. he smirks, walking over to you and sitting on the grass to your right.

"mhm..." he hums.

"is she viscountess material?" you scoff, returning to your scribbles.

"and why would you care?"

why did you care? it's not like the two of you really know each other; yet, something about james made your blood boil. perhaps it was how he has a near perfect life and somehow still complains. he has no issues in finding a partner because everyone wants him. if he didn't have his head up his own ass, he would realize that.

"i don't."

"sounds like you do."

james liked watching your face scrunch up at little with dislike for him. how your pressure on the quill increases. how you avoid his gaze. how you pretend he doesn't exist next to you.

"i don't." you repeat. "i just cannot believe that someone like you is complaining about having to take a wife when all the women of the ton are smitten with you."

"someone like me?" james pretends to be offended but he was too busy enjoying this riled up version of you.

"someone who never gone with unmet needs, never struggled financially, never been under minded or overlooked." your words come out sharp but james doesn't let them cut deep.

"look, sweetheart..." he squints those hazel eyes, glaring deep into your soul and leaning in closer than he should've. "you know nothing of my families struggles."

"and you know nothing of mine."

james was so close to you. your noses almost touching before you pull away. being within his close proximity made you feel a foreign warm tingle deep in your stomach.

thank heavens that the park was empty, minus the two of you. the last thing you needed was for someone to see the two of you this close and label you as one of the viscounts mistresses.

"i-i must get going." you stutter, collecting your belongings.

"where are you off to?" he asks.

"i'm supposed to be accompanying lady chamberlain and prince harrison to dinner this evening."

his face scrunches with distaste at the mention of the prince. also, why would lady chamberlain hide this piece of information from him?

"isn't it quite early to prepare for dinner?"

"i must look perfect for the prince." you smile.

but not at james. you're smiling for that no good excuse of a prince who couldn't see that you already were perfect.

"you look fine to me." he huffs.

"it's vocabulary like that, that keeps you from finding a wife."

"and to think it was my insufferable personality that kept the ladies of the ton away."

it's difficult to hide the laugh you want to let out. instead you bite down on your cheek, not giving him the satisfaction of your laughter.

"ha ha ha." you mock dryly.

"do you always have a stick up your ass?"

james question makes your jaw drop. never in your life have you heard a man speak so vulgarly.

"that's no way for a viscount to speak to a lady." you scold. he can't help but roll his eyes at your comment.

"i'm sure that a man has spoken even more colorfully to you."

"what are you insinuating, my lord?"

"that i highly doubt a lady such as yourself still has her virtue." he shrugs.

never has your head spun so fast at a single sentence. you couldn't fathom that a rake like him has the nerve to question anyone's virtue.

"excuse me, viscount howlett but my virtue is none of your business." you rage. "and you have quite the nerve to question it."

"and why's that?"

james was playing with fire but he didn't mind getting scorched by your flames.

"i've heard the stories about you."

"like what?"

"like what you do with the promiscuous women of the night." your words leave a smirk plastered on his face as he watches you intensely.

"don't act so innocent either." james hums. "i'm sure you've had your fair share of promiscuous adventures in france."

a flush of red hits at your cheeks. the last person you wanted to talk about promiscuous acts with is james. mostly because your lack there of. only your own hands have touched you so intimately.

james studies your facial expression before it clicks for him. he shouldn't ask. he really shouldn't. but come on, he has to.

"have you never—" his words come to a halt when there's a ruffled noise inching closer.

"i'm under no obligation to answer you, viscount howlett." you scold, collecting your belongings.

"hm... seems like you've already answered my question." his cocky tone sends you over the edge of annoyance.

"shouldn't you be more concerned with finding a wife rather than my virtue? this season will be over before you know it and you will need to find one sooner rather than later."

james admired the way you spoke with such sharpness. you were shy and reserved but the weight of your words were heavy. there was grace in the way you spoke and he loathed it.

he loathed how perfect you were. how absolutely perfect you would fit into his life. how perfect you would be at being his little wife. only needing to plan parties and open your womb to his child. he would never stop you from your dream of painting either. all he wants is someone who can handle the duties that come with being his other half.

by the time james snaps out of his thoughts, you are long gone. off to get ready for your date with a man who's twice as rich as him and much more likable. the only thing he could do is hope that nothing good comes from this dinner.

──★

i'll tag everyone else who commented in the morning when i wake up <3

tag list: @v3rdee @squishyfruitloop @caswithdasas2021 @espressopatronum454 @brittdead @fake-bleach @blossoming-hotch @hotbisexualmess @imaginecrushes @wh0re4steelblue-eyes @b0nes-n-all @tvdelrey @prettyoatmeal @speedyvoidlove @lunavelha @merrul @bubblegumholland @divinesols @seasonofthenerd @adoredire @gl0wingsl0wtown @imithicwolf @charityjoy22 @sun7lowxr @melsunshine @internetitgirl17 @tsumukei @dolliestprncess @st4rrlighttt @crypticcowboys @mirrorballpalo @princessanglophile @planetxella @battieshroomz @tonyhawkstits @shinyshayminflower @babey-fruit-bat @oraclic @glnnnhaps @criminaly-supernatural @pxrwinkle @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere @tighrenicotine @midnightvitality @loonalockley @notbaldy420 @squishyfruitloop @summer-343 @reidshearts @marii-ren @fictionalmen-dilflover @brisingamenwearer @pedrohoe04 @taextannie @jrihensjd @tumharisakhi @readerofallthingss @etmoisara @paladinshenanigan-blog @hauntedwombateggmug @i-am-not-a-morning-person-83 @zaggprincess2 @atjlovverr @fallingfromjupiter @cards-and-daggers @reidsworld @imsuperbored @golden-ebony @joyfulpeanutsalad @mysticalmarvelousmagpie @thighridinglogan @pieuui @fanficcrow @alsoprettyinpink @rooroen @barbecuetiddy @potato-painter @milfhunter69sstuff @bel20blog @hypermarvellove @modicum-ofnothing @gemofthenight @laureniswolverine @d3ad2you @goldphish @mxtokko @ovohanna24 @i-voluntears @cherrypieyourface @petrichor-incorporation @csigirl3137 @justannie18 @yxtkiwiyxt @maddielovesurmom321 @madscape @mesopotamism @multifandom-boss-bitch @tecolote2755 @ririkacchi @crownofdecit @snow30285 @lenoradarkstriderr @willybillyletsgetsilly @sleepilysworld @mynatureworld @biiolumii @phantombaby @natlovesu @tumharisakhi @lokiswify @saph-cyare @burntsaltsblog @shedobeclownin @itsjuwulia @hazelwebster @cake-and-umbrellas @aureliusbrutus @loving-barnes @valorant-v @annagraceevanss @opheliaas-stuff @louisymomo @midnightvitality @ricespy123 @livingonsillylovesongs

[geddyqueer]

wip wednesday wednesday

finally remembered how to write! wahoo! thanks @screamlet for the tag; passing this on to @dharmaavocado @setmeatopthepyre @liminalmemories21 @alchemistc @beanarie @rcmclachlan and anyone else who wants to play. here's some more of my 8x11 fix it wip, no crying in baseball:

"Damn, Kinard," Donato says as he rolls into work the next morning. "You lose a fight?"

After a couple tylenol and a cold shower his face doesn't feel that bad, but he was right—black eye, bruise smearing over the bridge of his nose, and a rough night of sleep because he kept rolling over onto the wrong side. "I'm fine," he says. "I got hit in the face by a softball thrown by a thirteen year old."

She winces. "I thought you were doing better after the breakup, you know? Not—not going out and getting in bar fights, or whatever."

"I didn't get in a bar fight. I got hit in the face by a softball thrown by a thirteen year old," he says, as if that's somehow better.

As if on cue Richardson pokes his head in through the door. "Kinard, there's a woman out here who wants to apologize for her daughter hitting you in the face with a—Jesus! You get in a bar fight?"

Tommy pushes past him and heads out into the main hangar. "Hey," he says, offering the woman standing there awkwardly clutching her bag his hand. "Tommy Kinard."

"Oh my gosh," she says as she takes in his face. "I'm so sorry. Emma has terrible aim."

"But she has a ton of power," he says. "She just needs practice. Anyway, no harm, no foul."

"It actually looks like quite a bit of harm," she says. "I'm Tracy. I'm supposed to be their Scout leader but they've all given up on Scouts and decided they want to do softball instead and while I support everything they want to do, I honestly have no idea how softball works."

"It's like baseball, but the ball is bigger," Tommy says. "And they pitch underhand. And there's usually only seven innings."

"Right," Tracy says. Behind her Tommy can see most of the rest of the Harbor crew inching closer, ears first. "I don't know anything about baseball, either. And we were going to have their math teacher do it, but he had to bow out last minute. Scheduling, you know. It's state testing season. And then, well, another parent was going to give it a try, but she was in a horrible accident at Trader Joe's—"

"Sparkling water lady," Tommy says, nodding. "We transported her, actually. Crazy what those pallets can do when they tip."

"Oh, it's awful," Tracy agrees. "So finally we asked another girl's cousin, she's in college locally, but I guess there were some issues with her social life, and now the girls have no one."

"Right. The girls mentioned that."

Tracy nods, pursing her lips. The rest of A-shift has moved in so close there's no way to plausibly deny they're listening. Tommy braces himself. "Did you really volunteer? Or was my kid lying? Because we would be thrilled to have a firefighter as our coach. Especially one who knows how the game works."

"Not just a firefighter but a firefighter pilot," Richardson cuts in.

"Oh!"

"Yeah, he got a medal for valor and innovative thinking last year," Donato adds.

"Oh, wow," Tracy says. Tommy feels his face heating up.

From behind him Melton comes and puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Ma'am, if you were to ask me which of my crew I would trust most to take charge in an emergency, or to fly a helicopter through hurricane conditions, or to lead a group of high school girls—"

"Middle school," Tracy corrects.

"—middle school girls to a softball tournament, well, I would choose this man for all three."

"Sir," Tommy says, but Melton ignores him and guides Tracy over to his office.

"Now, being a dad, I know a little about the machinations of the community sports world myself, and I know how hard it is to get things scheduled…"

The door shuts behind them, and Donato and Richardson and every other fucking joker in this hangar pounce on him like cats on a sickly tired mouse.

"I told you," he says, pointing at his eye. "Softball thrown by a tween."

"Hey, man, whatever it takes to get you out of this funk," Richardson says. "Glad you've got a hobby."

"I have a million hobbies," Tommy protests. "And I'm not in a funk!"

Everyone fidgets a little.

"…am I in a funk?"

Donato nods. "So it's, you know, really good to see you doing something that'll make you happy," she says.

Tommy presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, yelping when he remembers the giant fucking bruise on his face. Someone pats his back reassuringly.

[kousanosgf]

men, minors dni

sevika x prostitute!reader

sometimes life gets worse, before it becomes better. luckily sevika ready to help you with it.

a\n: i hate how half of this fandom makes "sexy sevika in a brothel" jokes. this was written with the strong despisement for anyone who supports swork and thinks that it's freeing in any shape or form. it's NOT a light one, i'd say, so please be careful with the content you're consuming. also inform me if i should change something about the tags or tws

tw: mention of suicide, not explicit describtion of SA, drug abuse

tags: angst, hurt\comfort (kinda?), no smut (idk if i can call it sfw, sex is mentioned but not with sevika), happy ending

whispers run through the main hall, they won't stop repeating for half an hour at least, every worker and guest is too excited or nervous to be in the haunting dog of zaun's presence. "she's here". "sevika came". it won't be surprising if someone suggests placing a bet who she'll choose next, now that her favorite girl is dead.

well, that's the thing really, you couldn't care less for anyone in here and especially sevika. your best friend is dead and you can't even mourn her properly, because there's always "clients demand our full attention, girls, don't forget that" and "no alcohol or drugs, unless our guests want it, girls". there's numbing pain tugging at you heart, making you want to vomit every time you have to think of your loss and there's no way to drink yourself to oblivion to not feel all this.

so far, the night was calm. the only man for the night left you alone an hour ago after mindlessly fucking you face down into the mattress for couple of minutes and disappearing as soon as he finished. you could only hope for it go as smoothly but luck wasn't on your side for some time now. a shadow looms over before you notice who it belongs to.

you raise your eyes. sevika. "of course," you think, "cause the day needs to get worse".

"are you free?" she asks bluntly. no greetings, no small talk. that's normal really, manageable. it's usually way worse when the client wants to spill all their heartache or frustration before what they actually came for.

"not even gonna buy girl a drink?" you try to put on your prettiest face, smiling coyly and frowning in a fake pout, hoping she'll let you get at least a bit drunk.

"no, come on". she just turns around and heads towards the second floor to the private rooms.

a scream dies somewhere on a tip of your tongue, leaving sour taste.

you have to hurry after her, people as powerful as sevika hate nothing more than to wait and there's no reason to get on her bad side. it's nerve wracking, scary even, to guess what kind of client she will be. there're not much women who come here and not one of them has ever chosen you. a risk of sevika getting frustrated and dissatisfied with your inexperience is high and definitely not what you want since if the customer is angry then madame is angry and you'll be punished in some way.

you take a look at sevika again, following her step by step. she holds herself with great confidence, understandable for someone with such a status, broad shoulders, perfect posture, full heavy steps that make people move out of her path.

you reach the room finally, dreadfully. sevika sits down in the chair waiting for you to lock the door. as you do so, you turn back to her, sliding the straps off your minidress down.

"wait, no." sevika stops you. "i'm not here for this. just sit down." she gestures to the bed and you follow her orders, confused but not daring to ask.

the silence follows. you sit in your place trying not to breathe too hard, a blank expression on your face, while sevika thinks something through.

"you knew yana?" you basically jump in place, hearing your friend's name. "i mean... she was your friend?"

"she is my friend." you snap unexpectedly even for yourself but don't correct the words or make an attempt at apologizing no matter how dangerous that move is.

the corner of sevika's lip rises a little in a smirk but it's gone as fast as it appeared.

"she's dead." "doesn't change the fact that she's my friend." gods, why can't you shut up.

there's a pure rage boiling inside of you. it's painful when no one in this fucking place took time to acknowledged her death. another whore killing herself, what's the news really? but this... it's worse, the way sevika seems more amused with the fact than, you don't know, at least sad that one of her favorites is no longer here.

silence again. sevika studies you like she's trying to find something. the gaze is different from what you usually get from customers, burning, suffocating glances of men who look you over, imagine what you would look like naked under them before making there choice and passing several bills to madame.

"you have a lot of friends here?" what the fuck is she on about?

"i don't run my mouth if that's what you need."

"that's not what i asked." the smirk again. "but whatever."

she lights a cigarette and makes a few puffs. as the smell reaches you, you can't help but scrunch your nose, never appreciative of the smell. as she sees your dissatisfaction, she clicks her tongue and reaches for the ashtray, putting the cigarette down.

"here's what we gonna do. i'll sleep here till morning and you just... i don't know, do your thing? sleep too?" she waves her hand in the air.

you have to take a moment before her words actually lock in. "what?" sevika doesn't strike you as the type to use some euphemisms when she talks about sex, "sleep" here actually seems like she means it.

"you heard me. i already paid for the whole night if you're worried about it." she gives no further explanation and just leans back, dropping her head on the chair and closing her eyes. it's better not to disturb her. there's not much to say or do for you so you just sit there for a while, listening to the steady breathing and fall asleep yourself, not ready to give up a prospect of a calm night. when you wake up in the morning, sevika isn't there.

she comes and goes. for the last two weeks sevika visited you almost every day. the nights go basically the same. nothing much happens, though she becomes more and more chatty with every meeting.

you know her favorite food, know how her day went, know what she thinks about every chem-baron. in return sevika knows what're your favorite flowers, knows what your childhood was like, knows how you got into the brothel.

she's always so nonchalant about her questions, trying not to make a big deal out of it, like she's simply asking to fill the space. but working in a place like this teaches you read people easily and it becomes clear very quickly that sevika is actually searching for something. you're not sure if it's safe to give her the information she wants to hear but it's been too long since you had a person to talk to. it becomes easy to pretend like she actually interested in your stories and opinions.

she also now sleeps in a bed with you, leaving her place in the chair on the third night when you offer it yourself. she's one of those people who can fall asleep on a whim anywhere and anytime, you guess. or she's just very good at pretending.

and when she does fall asleep you lie awake, looking at her, replaying everything she said earlier in your head, trying to make sense of it, of her.

you get caught eventually. one night she just opens her eyes as she wakes up (if she's slept at all) and looks straight at you. both of you lie on your sides, facing each other. nothing is said for good five minutes, she's studying your features as well as you do hers in a dim glow of the lamp post outside the window.

"wanna know a secret?" sevika finally breaks the comfortable silence, a light smirk on her lips. you nod your head slowly, not breaking the eye contact.

"i'm getting you out of here."

the sentence doesn't register, so you have to ask her to repeat it.

"i'm getting. you. out." she says again, slowly, dividing the words.

you rise up swiftly, leaning yourself on the elbow. "you're not funny." of course it's some twisted joke, what else could it be. anger ready to overtake you easily.

the smirk grows wider on her face. "im serious, sweetheart."

that's when she tells you. probably the craziest thing you've ever heard. her visits to the brothel were never for any sexual pleasures, mostly getting intel for her and, by extant, silco's plans. till couple of months ago when she took on a mission of getting such a business out of zaun.

yana was suppose to be one of the first women who sevika and her team would save. they were late in the end.

"why didn't you tell her?" you ask partially frustrated at the coincidence of circumstances and sevika. if only yana knew that the help was on the way, she would still be alive, probably free from her prison. instead she just couldn't handle the life she thought she's bound to till her dying day or when she'll become old enough for madame to throw her out on the streets cause she wouldn't bring enough money.

"i was afraid to risk it, she was too unstable to be trusted such an information for a long term." sevika sighs heavily, dragging a hand through her face. "that was a wrong move on my end."

"and yet you're telling me this two weeks later? there were no guarantee for you that i wouldn't do the same."

"i... had to take a gamble. i knew basically nothing about you before. yana did share some stories but that wasn't enough to ease my anxieties."

you talk and talk and talk. about yana, about your life here. you throw question after question to her and she doesn't seem to get tired of answering you.

"why me? or why... not everyone at once?"

"it's impossible to do this in one go without much practice. look at this as us dipping toes in the water."

"so i'm a guinea pig?" sevika opens her mouth to argue but closes it immediately, realizing that you're only teasing her.

"no, you're something i can fix. give me a week more, okay?" she says it with such confidence in her voice that you got nothing else to do but to believe her.

sevika comes every night now, trying to take as much as she can of your working time so others won't get to you. there's a slight tug of guilt somewhere in your heart, because there's probably girls in the brothel who need this more, who can handle less than you, who just got here and weren't that much ruined with the way people treat them like some meat to jerk off to.

"your arm."

you look over yourself. it is an old bruise that got her concerned, one of the clients getting too harsh. you don't remember much, he let you have a blunt, you didn't ask of what, before everything occurred. it's yellow already, few days more and it'll disappear.

"fuck. probably smudged my makeup somewhere."

sevika's look is heavy, fixed on the spot.

"it's nothing, don't worry."

"it's not nothing." she's now looking straight into your eyes, there's a dangerous fire gleaming and it's impossible to hold her gaze so you just look to the side, noticing her fingers digging into an armrest. it is not nothing, you both know that. but all you can think of is that you would love to feel sevika's palm on you, covering the damned bruise, letting you dream it was never there.

no, you deserve to run as much as the next person. and it's not like you're gonna be the only one. like sevika told you, it's only the beginning.

"good news", sevika says and there's a smile on her face. you're not sure if you ever saw her smile. not a grin or a smirk that she gives everyone here but a genuine, warm smile. she looks lovely with it and you can't help but smile too back at her, not even knowing the reason.

"like what?"

the morning air is cool, autumn starts to take the reigns of nature. there's only a set of underwear and a nightgown on you so you shiver and hug yourself. you couldn't take any of your belongings, she said yesterday night, when she finally announced that it's time to set the plans in motion. some kind of big cloth, a poncho, you regester not as fast as you'd like to, lends on your shoulders, warm from the body heat of it's owner.

"sorry, that's all i got for now. need to get to the safe house, have actually some clothes for you."

you nod dumbfounded and just follow her. everything feels like a dream really, that about to be ripped away and you'll simply wake up back in the room that smells of head numbing incenses, ready to greet another customer.

you look over the clothes she gave you, simple pair of brown jeans, a black turtleneck and a jacket. the jeans are a size too big for you but nothing a belt can't fix.

"the plans to get you out changed so quick, i completely forgot to buy something your size."

"was it for her?" you don't need the answer, you know it already.

"yeah."

there're tears falling down that you can't control. you cry silently, turned away from sevika. you're not sure if she actually doesn't notice or just wants to give you space when she finally says "alright, gonna step out for you to change, meet me in the kitchen when you're ready."

as she takes a step to the door you lounge yourself at her, grabbing calloused hand and tugging it to your waist, looking for contact. now only you can do is cry, your sobs becoming louder and louder, your throat hurts like hell, you won't be able to speak later for sure.

there's a stream of "thankyouthankyouthankyou" coming from your mouth, your body basically presses inside sevika's. she doesn't answer. her other hand gently covers the crown of your head, guiding your tearful face to her chest and she lets you rest it there.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

moth to a flame

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, praise, body worship, eye contact, public sex act, dry humping, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your friend invites you to a bonfire where you meet a man who knows you better than you think. plus! reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: this is my first of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Natasha is the coolest person you know. Probably the coolest person most people will ever meet; if they have the privilege. So it is that you wonder how she’s your friend. It’s really too good to be true which is why you can’t help but feel a bit enamoured by her. 

It has to be real though. If you’re not friends, she wouldn’t invite you to her annual bonfire. A sacred tradition for her, or so you’ve heard. A gathering of all her closest friends. They are truly elite company. Not just your everyday schmucks, but The Avengers. 

You’re sure you’ll seem a bit lame walking up with your basket of pumpkin muffins home-made cider. Still, you were taught to always bring something with you. Though it does provide an obstacle to getting to the front door smoothly. 

You carry the large glass jug of cider by the metal handle as you hug the basket to your side. You struggle you hit the lock button on your keys and stop short as the cider sloshes around dangerously and throws your balance. As you try to correct yourself, footsteps scuff up behind you. 

“Need help?” The deep voice is like silk. 

You look over your shoulder, nearly tipping over as you do. The stranger manages to scoop up the basket before you tip it and you giggle in embarrassment. You sigh and let him take it from you. 

Oh, he’s not a stranger. Well, you know his name, even if you don’t know him. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. One of Natasha’s many high-profile friends. Again, you ask yourself how you ended up there. 

“Oop, thanks so much,” you say. “I should’ve made two trips.” 

“No problem,” he assures you. “You a friend of Nat’s?” 

“Uh, yeah,” you smile, turning back up the walk as he keeps stride with you. “New friend, I guess.” 

“Friend is a friend. She only keeps me around because I made friends with a string bean back in 1930.” He chuckles. 

“You mean--” You stop yourself and look away. You don't want to come off as a fangirl that quick. “Uh, well, we met at an event. She was teaching self-defense for the woman’s shelter.” 

“Oh, you work there?” He asks. 

You keep your eyes off of him, “I lived there. Not anymore.” 

“Ah, well, that’s good? You’re in a better place?” He asks. 

You nod, “much better.” You swallow and exhale. “I know who you are. You’re Bucky Barnes.” 

“I’m never gonna get used to that,” he scoffs. “Takes the excitement out of meeting new people.” 

“Oh, sorry, I...” you trail off before your nerves can break through.  

You don’t think Natasha would ever have become your friend if she knew you were such a geek about her other friends. Cap and Iron Man and even Thor. They were the real-life heroes that inspired you to be your own. And it was a poster of Steve Rogers himself that sparked the last fight that led to you leaving your ex. 

“It’s fine, so, do I get a name? Unfortunately, I don’t have the whole mind-reading thing going on,” he knocks on the heavy door as you shift the jug in your grip. You give your name as you peek over at him sheepishly. “These smell...” he lifts the basket and takes a whiff, “delicious.” 

“I hope they are. My first time using my apartment stove. It’s gas. I’m used to electric,” you explain. “Uh, pumpkin muffins, if that’s what you were asking. Sorry, I...” you turn to the door and rub your lips together, “if I’m honest, I’m super nervous.” 

“Nervous?” He echoes. “About?” 

“Well, I’m not the greatest with crowds. Especially since the shelter... ugh, I don’t know why I keep bringing that up.” You cringe, “but uh, just... new people. I guess.” 

“Ah,” he nods and teeters on his treads, knocking again, “damn it, Nat, what the hell are ya doin?” He grumbles. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m not really a people person either. The arm... it’s quite the ice breaker.” He sniffs, “I hate talking about the goddamn thing.” 

“Um, yeah, that would be... awkward,” you utter. 

The door opens before he can respond. You’re glad for it. You hadn’t thought about it but now all you can think of is if his arm has a built-in can opener. 

“Oh, he-eyyyy,” Natasha stutters as her eyes flit between you and Bucky, “you’re here. Both of you. At the same time?” 

“Uhhh, yeah,” you peek at Bucky. 

“Ran into each other a few steps back. You’re shit at introducing people, Natty.” 

She rolls her eyes and waves him off. She turns to you. “Wow, and what’s all this?” 

“I brought cider and--” 

“Muffins,” Bucky finishes for you as he lifts the basket higher. “I’m not much of a baker.” 

“Or a guest,” she retorts. “That’s so amazing, thank you.” She reaches to take the basket, “come on, I’ll show you around. Bucky, I think you already know where the litter box is.” 

Bucky tuts and shakes his head, “nice seeing you too.” He follows you in and faces you, “try to enjoy yourself. I know she’s a bit of a party pooper. Even if she is the host.” 

“With guests like you, how can I not be,” Natasha trills and beckons you onward, “don’t worry about your shoes. We’ll most be outside so I’ll do a full sweep and mop tomorrow.” She turns and struts away. 

Your eyes creep down her hour glass figure. You feel like a pervert as you do but you can’t help it. Even in a flannel and jeans, her body is perfect. The cowl neck of your red sweater and your corduroy feels a little less cute. 

“You made these yourself?” She asks as she leads you into a large kitchen.

There’s a square island with a hardwood top and matching counters and cupboards; the tile is burgundy with black iron accents. You marvel as you compare it in your head to your boxy apartment with the peeling laminate and squeaky faucets. 

“Uh, yeah,” you answer as you lift the jug of cider onto the counter. “Apple cider and pumpkin muffins.” 

“You are too sweet. I have to admit, I got catering for tonight. I'm no good in a kitchen,” she chuckles. “Lived off of Hydra rations for so long, I can’t do much more than open a can or vacuum seal.” 

“Oh, right. Nothing fancy,” you shrug. “You know, I just found the recipes online. Got some apples from the farmers’ market... I don’t know if it’s any good.” 

“I’m sure it’s all delicious. Bet the cider would be great with some whiskey,” her voice is smokey as she smirks. “Wanna put that theory to the test?” 

“Um, if you want. I’m okay either way.” 

“I won’t blame you if you need some liquid courage before facing the rest. Work friends can be a bit much,” she chuckles. “Besides, I have a bottle that’s been sitting in my cabinet for too long.” 

“Sure,” you accept, not wanting to be rude. And she’s right. You need something to take the edge off. 

She hums as she leaves the muffins next to the jug and she spins to the cupboard. She takes out two glasses that resemble jars and a dark bottle of liquor. You watch her put it all together with ice and a cinnamon stick to boot. 

“May as well get some before the rest devour it,” she slides a glass toward you and lifts the other, “cheers.” 

You smile and clink her glass. You taste it and your cheeks pinch. The cider is good but you can definitely taste the whiskey. You hold back a cough and cover your mouth. 

“I am just rewarming the hors d’oevres but if you want to wait, I can introduce you to everyone.” 

Heat roils from the oven as it glows from within and there are trays waiting for serving. She’s already put so much in. You don’t want to make her day even more strenuous. After all, she didn’t have to invite you. 

“No, it’s... you’re busy but if you need help.” 

“Don’t be crazy. You’re a guest. Go, enjoy the party. I’ll be out shortly. Everything’s mostly out there already.” 

“Okay, but um, I can take the muffins at least.” 

“Alright,” she agrees. 

You grab the basket and go to the door. You pause as you realise you don’t know where you’re going. Natasha laughs again. 

“Other way, back door is right on the other side of me,” she sweeps around the kitchen swiftly. 

“Right,” you turn back and cross the tile; one arm around the basket, your other hand cradling your glass. You push outside with your shoulder and step out onto the deck.  

There’s a long table of snacks as promised. You go to it and put down the basket as you dare to glance up at the guests speckled around the yard. Pairs and trios stand in the grass and around the already crackling fire. They all seem to know each other and you recognise quite a few of them. 

“Buns?” The question has you lurching in surprise as you face another partygoer. 

“Oh, uh, no, muffins,” you lift the lid to show the contents. “Pumpkin.” 

“Oooh,” the blond grins. The golden hair, the square jaw, broad shoulders; how could you mistake Captain America? “Can I try?” 

“Of course. I brought them for everyone,” you smile and tightly clutch your glass of cider. “You’re... Captain America.” 

“Ha, well, not here. I prefer Steve,” he takes out a muffin and peels away the liner. “And you’re... one of Xavier’s recruits?” 

“Xavier? Who—no. I’m...” you introduce yourself as he sinks his teeth in to the muffin. Your stomach flips. What if it’s bad? “Natasha’s friend. Erm, I guess that’s what we all are but nope, I’m just me. Just a... civilian?” 

He laughs, “just a civilian? Damn good baker. I don’t go for pumpkin often but this is amazing.” 

“Really?” You beam and bounce on your toes. 

“Oh, yeah--” 

“Save some for the rest of us, punk,” Bucky comes up from behind Steve. “Just like him to be chatting up the cutest girl at the party. What line did he use?” 

“Line? I’m just having a muffin,” Steve grimaces. 

“Mm, muffins,” Bucky reaches in front of his friend to claim a treat of his own, “was waiting on these.” 

He eyes your glass of cider and you take a sip. You pull your lips off the brim and gulp, “oh, the rest is inside if you want some.” 

“She made that too,” Bucky points at your cup. “Who knew Natasha had cool friends?” 

You giggle, “no, I’m not... just muffins.” 

“Good muffins,” Bucky says through a mouthful, “mmm.” 

“Might be good to hide them,” Steve remarks as he gives Bucky the side eye. 

“Hey, these two meatheads giving you trouble?” Another figure approaches from the back door. You turn as Tony stark flips up his dark sunglasses. He sports a red velvet jacket with collar popped. 

Bucky’s lips thin and Steve shakes his head, “you’re late,” the latter rebukes. 

“It’s a party, capsicle. Chill. Wait, don’t do that. We might not see you for another seventy years.” 

Steve scowls and takes another bite of his muffin. Bucky picks at his own and looks away. You nervously glance between them all. 

“Tony Stark,” the new arrival offers his hand, “but you already know that, don’t you, sweetheart? So who are you?” 

“Charming,” Steve comments. 

“It’s called getting to the point, Rogers. Some of us aren’t gonna wait around until they’re in the nursing home.” 

Steve growls and Bucky nudges him. The blond nods and looks at you, “I’ll see ya around.” 

“Sure,” you accept. Bucky waves with two fingers and follows Steve’s retreat. You turn back to Tony and shake his hand as you recite your name. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Natasha didn’t say this was a meet-cute,” he winks. 

“Ummm,” you glance around nervously. 

“Teasing ya. You look lost. You want the low-down on the dweebs,” he flicks his index towards the grass. “Now, you see, that kid right there, that’s Parker. His alias is top secret. For his safety. He might blurt it out anyway. And that’s his buddy Miles,” he points at to younger guests. “Someone should really separate them. We don’t need a mess.” 

He snickers and puts his arm around you as he moves you toward the top step of the deck, “and there’s the mighty God of Thunder. We all know the puppy dog, and then there’s his stray cat of a brother. Trust me, I tried to have him ejected into space but apparently, they can survive that.”

He tuts. “And there’s Bruce, good guy. When he’s calms. And Brock. Real question mark, that guy. Maria, Coulson, Sam, Strange; the better Steve if you ask me. And Wanda, her husband; I made him, his name is Vision but I guess Victor is more ‘human’.” 

He runs his hand up your arm as he pulls you closer, “there’s Charles, he prefers Professor, and his group of ragtag individuals. I could tell you their names but I’m already bored. Oh, except that one, the angry one with the swoopy hair. That’s Logan. Leave him alone. He’s even worse than the bozo with the vibranium arm. 

“Now, T’Challa has more important things to do so we don’t got anyone else worth mentioning,” he drags his hand down your sleeve then lets go, “I’m sure you’ll be tired of all of us before the night’s done. I assure you, heroes save people, not the vibe.” 

He clicks his tongue and jumps off the top step. You watch him strut off and you stare after him. There’s a lot more people than you expected. Familiar but still strangers.  

The only good thing is there’s more than enough guests for you to fade into the background. You’re tempted to go back in and offer to help Natasha. You know better than that. She always sees right through you. She’ll know immediately that you’re just hiding from social interaction. 

🔥

The night wears on into darkness. The large pit burns brightly as voices buzz and shadows waver. You stand watching the lick of flames, unnoticed amid the furor. Or so you think. 

“Hey, there’s cider left,” Bucky appears at your side, his sleeve brushing yours. “Got you a top up.” 

“Oh, that’s... nice.” You accept the glass as he holds another for himself. “You didn’t have to.” 

“You look... lonely. I don’t know. Felt bad. You went to all that trouble and you’re wading through this sea of people you don’t know.” He shrugs. “Hate these things myself. I just came ‘cause Nat asked. Well, she tells. You know, you can’t say no to her.” 

“Ha, yeah,” you agree. She isn’t just strong-willed, she’s intimidating. 

“I usually end up just drifting around until everyone’s distracted, then I dip,” he explains. “Or find somewhere quiet.” He quiets to take a sip, “how about it? Everyone’s out here, there’s a sofa up on the deck.” Your teeth chatter as you try to taste the cider, “and A blanket.” 

“Mm, it said it wasn’t supposed to get cold,” you look down embarrassed. You finally get a mouthful. It’s sweeter than before. Maybe because there’s no whiskey. 

“Huh, well, you don’t gotta hang out with a boring old man like me. Just figured I’d offer,” he says. 

“Thanks, that’s nice.” 

“Well, I can be nice when I want to,” he raises his glass slightly and turns away. 

As he marches off, you watch his back. Your eyes wander around. No one else even notices you. They’re all so wrapped up in each other. Even Natasha’s barely stopped to chat. 

“Wait,” you call after Bucky, “I could sit down.” 

He stops and turns as you scurry after him. The fire light flickers and limns the sharp angles of his face. He waits until your right beside him to continue on. 

“So, you already know what I do for work. What about you?” He asks as you climb the steps in tandem. 

“I’m a cashier,” you answer. “I work at a pet store.” 

“Hm, I like animals,” he leads you to the sofa. You can see the glow of the fire but the voices aren’t so raucous from up there. 

“Yeah, we mostly just have birds and hamsters there. Nothing very big. It’s a small place,” you explain. “I... It’s a new job.” You keep yourself from mentioning that the shelter helped you find it. It’s not really what you want to do forever, but it’s something. 

“Still, that’s nice. You get to help people in your own way. Make sure they can spoil their pet,” he leans back as he balances his glass over one knee and you drink deeply from your own. “I got a cat. Demanding. A bit abusive.” He laughs then chokes on it. “Jeez, I’m sorry. That was a bad joke.” 

You shake your head, “no, it’s not... really. I’m not upset.” 

“You sure?” He angles towards you. 

“Yeah, really. I can handle it,” you say. 

He nods and hums, “yeah, I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse than words.” 

You’re silent as you look down at the cup. You take another sip. He clears his throat as he shifts in the seat. He reaches back to put slide his phone from the back of his jeans. He leans forward to place it on the table. 

“Ugh,” he sits back. “Better.” 

You smile, “well, you don’t just work, do you? When did you get your cat?” 

“Oh, she just made herself at home really. It wasn’t exactly a conscious or willing choice,” he laughs. You fold one arm around your middle and shiver again. “Ah, where’s that blanket--” 

He reaches to the back of the couch and pulls down the blanket. It hits his glass and he loses grip of both. He huffs as he soaks the flannel in cider. 

“Damn,” he stands and holds out the sopping blanket before it can drip onto him or the couch. “Just like me. Hold on. I’ll go get another blanket and clean this up.” 

He untangles the cup from the blanket and sidles past you. You sit back silently as he heads for the back door. You glance over and consider sneaking over to the table to pick at the leftovers. Instead, you huddle down against another evening breeze.  

You finish all but a mouthful of side and reach to place it on the wooden table. His phone lights up and draws your attention. You blink as your eyes instinctively find the screen. You get a glimpse of the wallpaper right before it goes dark again. Huh? 

You shake off what you think you saw and the phone lights up again. You lean over and sink your teeth around the gasp that threatens to spill out. That can’t be. 

You check over your shoulder before you reach for the phone. You tap the side button and gape at your own image staring back at you. There’s a chat bubble floating on the front screen; new messages. You tap and expand the preview. It’s from Nat; ‘you find her?’ 

Your stomach sinks and you nearly drop the phone. The door opens and you quickly set it back down and sit back. You cross your arm and stare out at the other guests. Nothing can happen as long as you don’t leave. 

He comes back and you flinch as he drapes a blanket over you. He drops down onto the couch as he pulls it snug around your front. He drags his grip down the edges before he lets go. “Better?” 

“Mhmm,” you agree and blink. Your eyes feel dry. You reach up to rub them. 

“Really good cider. You’ll have to send me the recipe,” he insists. 

“Sure,” you slur and try to shake it off. “I’ll find the link...” you swallow and cough. You don’t feel right. You need some space to think. “I need to use the bathroom, one sec.” 

You try to stand but don’t even get your ass off of the sofa before you slump over. Your head crashes into Bucky’s shoulder. He opens his arm around you and rubs your back. He hushes you as you babble. 

“You’re okay, baby,” he rubs your back, “I got you.” 

You try to make a noise but you can’t. You can’t whine or whimper or scream. You can just squeak as he pushes you back up so you fall back against the arm. 

“I measured...” he says quietly. “You shouldn’t pass out.” 

You gurgle and lift your arm. It takes so much effort that it drops down like a bag a sand. The cider...

He shifts and stands, moving your leg behind him before he lowers himself back down. His hand rests on your thigh. His thumb presses into your soft flesh. 

“God, you’re so beautiful, doll,” he traces up and down the seam of your pants. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He runs his finger along your pelvis, making a vee back and forth, “soft and... warm.” 

“B--B—B--” you stutter. 

“The moment I saw you, I knew you needed me,” he moves even closer, his hand crawling up your stomach. “Whoever chased you into that place, he didn’t deserve you. You deserve better.” 

He moves carefully, lifting himself and twisting onto his knees. His hand glides back along your thigh as he folds it around him. You twitch but can’t do more than that. He bends and holds himself over you. 

He curls an arm under your head and nuzzles you. Your eyes roll back as you hide behind your eyelids. This can’t be real. What is he doing? How can he have photos of you on his phone? And that text... did Natasha set this up? Why would she do that? She’s your friend. 

“Look at me,” he growls. His voice is scary. Your eyes snap open and you groan. The tip of his nose rolls around yours. “God, you’re beautiful. Doll, I’m gonna take such good care of you.” He leans his pelvis against you as he presses down, “I’m going to keep you safe.” 

He tilts his hips until you feel his bulge against you. Your eyes round and you puff out a foggy breath. What is he doing? 

“Don’t look away,” he snarls as he slides his arm back and grips the back of your head. “Mmm, I just... I love the way you look at me. The way you feel beneath me.” He rasps as he rocks his hips steadily, “I can’t wait to have you on me, doll. To feel you on top of me. Around me. Mm, I wanna taste you so bad. 

“Mm, your chest,” he touches your tits, “your stomach, your hips,” his hand explores with his declaration and he hooks his hand under you, “your ass. All mine.” 

His coarse whispers tingle through you. What he says is nasty and wrong and yet it’s thrilling. Terrifying because you can do nothing to stop him. Defeating because all the people only feet away won’t either. 

[unknownati]

xii. never lose me

a/n: (i lost the ask so sorry to that anon, hope u still find this 💀 but the ask was like: can you make a fic based off never lose me by flo milli? with smut)

happy new year my loves!

sorry this took so long im such a slow writer. plus im braindead asf. ik i said i had to proofread this in my last post but i lied i didnt 😬

nooobody ask me where he got all this money cuz baby idk. i hope some of this stuff is correct bc i am not rich 😭

warnings/tags: smut 👻, fem!black!reader, no use of y/n, no desc of reader's physical features BUT reader dresses feminine (think aliyahsinterlude), modern!ekko, boat sex yay, semi-public(?), risky, backshots 🎉, oral (e! recieving), reader getting spoiled, soft dom!ekko, so loosely inspired by the song, not proofread. raw vibe

_______________________________________________

ekko goes above and beyond treating you right.

anything you want, all yours. that new purse? check your mailbox. you need your nails done? here's $300, keep the change, don't worry about it. he always makes sure you're pleased, even if you don't ask. he knows everything about you by heart. favorite flowers, favorite foods, plus your usual orders, so it's not uncommon to come home to food on the table with a fresh vase of florals seated next to it.

of course, nothing about this relationship was ever one sided. there is no one who prances around announcing that ekko is your man quite like you do. you make sure ekko knows that if he ever needs you, no matter what, you're there.

in return, you get whatever you want.

"ekko," you sing, putting your phone down in the cup holder. your hand rests over ekko's, which has a gentle grip on your thigh. crickets chirp outside, veiled beneath the dark sky and lack of light. you're speeding down an empty backroad on your way back home from a little shopping spree at a mall an hour and some change away. "i wanna go somewhere."

he hums. "where were you thinking?"

"dunno yet," you lean your weight onto the center console, maybe somewhere in asia."

"yeah?" he asks, squeezing the fat of your thigh. you smile wide. "sure. let me know when you decide."

"i will, thanks baby," you chirp, gently pulling his hand up your thigh and closer to your center. his fingers catch on the hem, pushing your denim skirt up and gently pressing his thumb into your clit. he's rubbing featherlight circles into it, running over the lacy underwear he bought for you a while back. your gasp is barely heard beneath the music.

the engine whirrs, and you see the speedometer shoot up.

so impatient.

.:*☆

it truly didn't take long for ekko to book that flight. you said the place, and about 30 minutes later everything was set in stone.

excitement rushed through your body as you packed, making sure to tuck your matching sets beneath your clothes. he deserved some type of reward, right?

when you finally arrived at your hotel, late into the night, jet-lagged to all hell, you couldn't help but ask ekko if he needed some help. he did everything, all you did was walk around, complain about your feet hurting a bit, and cling to his arm. regardless, he insisted you worried about nothing and just got comfy for the night because he had something big planned tomorrow.

never would you have ever guessed that you'd end up on a cruiser yacht.

he had you blindfolded after you returned to the hotel from eating and shopping, promising that you'd love it and that you just needed to be patient and trust him. you did; no hesitation there.

and once he slipped it off after your minor freak-out wondering what you're stepping onto that has to be so wobbly, it took your breath away.

the sun sinks below the horizon, yellow rays glittering off of the water. your hands met his, perched on your hips, looking back to find his prideful grin.

"ekko..." you pout.

"iii know, i'm a great boyfriend, you love me, i know," he jokes, chuckling as you walk around the cockpit, marveling the fact that you're on one. "it'll leave soon, there's a cooler with drinks, and i can take pictures for you."

you smile wide. "my personal photographer. in fact, take some of me right now before the sun sets," you rush to hand him your phone, quickly posing yourself in front of the scene.

ekko took taking photos for you so seriously, genuinely telling you how to switch your posing and expression, and without missing a beat always hyping you up to the third degree.

so when you heard nothing from ekko, no 'oooh's or 'mhm's, you turned to him.

"ekko?"

"sorry, you're just..." he laughs sheepishly, avoiding your gaze as if he wasn't the key to your heart. "so pretty."

you roll your eyes. "you're so corny."

the tone of your voice completely betrayed your words, honeyed and bashful. he catches it, shaking his head and raising the camera again.

"right—okay, let's try this again."

.:*☆

the pictures came out great. you wanted to wait until you got home to pick your favorites to post, but all of them were so good that you didn't know which one to pick.

you leaned against the railing, staring out into deep night, city lights twinkling in the distance. the cool sea breeze rushes against your skin, the salty scent of the ocean flooding around you. it was too good of an opportunity to not take more.

"ekko, take a few more for me?"

he hums, not a moment of protest, finding your phone and settling into the seat opposite of you.

you take your seat as well, your torso twisted and legs crossed. his mouth opens—'move your leg a little' rests on his tongue, until he inspects your gaze through the phone. you weren't quite looking at the camera, but rather...behind it.

"you okay?"

you nod. "yeah...you look good as fuck over there."

he fumbles over his words for a moment, looking down at his attire. "in my spiderman shirt?"

"mhm, especially in your spiderman shirt," you look him up and down, eyes sliding over his muscles. "come back over here real quick?"

he's surprised he didn't trip from how quickly he scrambled over to you, sitting in the seat beside you. his smile is poorly hidden as you crawl into his lap. his hands find your waist, pulling you closer.

you direct his face up, fingers gently pushing at his chin, leaning down to lock your lips together.

his hands roam your body—clearly too impatient—fingers pushing beneath your shirt, pulling up and revealing your bra. intricate lace, almost in a floral pattern, dyed a dusty pink that was barely visible under the moonlight. the cups had a deep cut, plunging down from your collar bone to the bottom of your sternum with a dainty little decorative bow.

you literally feel him getting hard. he looks up, fingers running along the band. "this for me?"

"sure is." you nod, reaching down to tug your skirt down. the hem of your matching panties peek out. "you like 'em?"

"do i?" he glances above the short barrier at the captain, who isn't paying an ounce of attention. just humming in his own world, only focused on the path they were going on. perfect.

"shit..." his lips reconnect with yours before trailing down, sucking hickies into your skin, tightly squeezing your thighs, brows furrowing.

you can already tell he's going to find a way to seat you right on his face so you stop him—not because you don't want that, but you've been spoiled enough for one day—pushing his shoulders back and getting off of him.

he looked like a kicked puppy when you separated from him and you just roll your eyes, sinking down onto your knees with a wide smile. it all connects for him and he relaxes against the seat, lips parting as you quickly unbutton his pants, your nail hooking at the band of his trunks. you tug, down, down, down, until his dick springs free and lightly taps his naval.

you waste no time, your lips meeting the base, then parting to let your tongue run up a vein that lead you to the sensitive tip.

ekko shivers, eyes shifting from the arch in your back to your lips, leaving glossy stamps all along his length.

you, on the other hand, kept your eyes locked onto his. he kept averting his gaze. for what, you weren't sure. but you tapped his tip against your tongue, capturing his attention. finally, his eyes meet yours. now you feel like you can continue.

you kiss the tip again, smiling up at him as you allow it to breach your lips, sliding into your mouth agonizingly slow.

"fuuuck," he drags, watching you slowly sink down, taking almost all of it yet stopping where your lips met your fingers.

you get acquainted with the feeling, adjusting your tongue to press against the skin. your cheeks hollow, your head slowly falling into a bobbing movement, stroking him alongside your movements.

he struggles to not thrust straight up into your mouth, gripping the edge of the leather cushions. one hand meets the back of your head but doesn't push or pull, just rests there.

his hips twitch, torso relaxing against the back of the seat, growing rigid whenever your tongue ran across just the right spot. his chest rises and falls rapidly, quickly drawing in breaths then moaning them right out.

your jaw already started to ache, but looking up at him as he falls apart from just your mouth is beyond worth it. he shakes his head, eyes leaving yours, squeezing shut, and you can tell he's already close.

his hand leaves your head, forearm laying against his forehead. you tap him, a reminder. look at me. he peeks down, a breathy chuckle pushing through.

"doin' so good for me, yeah? 'm close—" he warns you—you nod in acknowledgment.

you unhinge your jaw, sticking your tongue out so he can watch his cum spill all over it,

he sucks air in through his teeth, and before you know it you're bent over the seat, looking out onto the horizon. you start to speak and he just shushes you, tugging your skirt up and pulling your panties to the side. soaked.

maybe you were just too impatient, because before he could even get comfortable you were reaching back to put it in. his laugh rings behind you, shooing your hand away so he can finish sinking all the way inside you.

his pelvis meets your ass and you almost caught a glimpse of the back of your skull. he started slow, gripping your waist and bringing you back to meet his strokes.

you're squeezing around him so tight, and all he can do is stare in awe at it. his length glistens, coated in your juices. then he couldn't take it, his pace quickening, watching the fat of your ass recoil against his movements.

it feels euphoric, almost unreal. staring out into the night sky, stars twinkling above you, ocean swaying below you, and ekko thrusting into your heat, moaning behind you—it was overwhelming, it had your flesh running hot.

"feels good?" he questions, though your gasps and mewls answer loud and clear.

"fuck, yes."

"mhm, you're mine, right?"

"a-all yours." you nod.

"all mine?" he asks, and it's rhetorical. not like you could reply anyway, because your moans caught in your throat, rendering any chance you had at words useless.

your noises drowned beneath the whirring of the motor paired with the water swaying beneath you, which you're endlessly grateful for. you're lucky that driver pays almost no attention to what's happening behind him.

you were especially loud, and it only got worse as you felt your orgasm building. ekko knew it too, the way your voice shook, the way you tightened around him, the way you begged him not to stop—it was pushing him over the edge too.

"fuck, that's it. just like that. i got you, okay? good."

your cries overlap ekko's softer groans as you came, your form trembling, jolts of pleasure coursing throughout your body as he fucked you through it.

he had to hold back from coming inside you, letting you ride out your high before pulling out to release all over your back.

he gives you no time to recover, immediately diving in for another round, intoxicated with the way you gasps caught in your throat, holding onto the seat for dear life.

he leans down, his lips meeting your shoulder, his brows furrowed. it did not take long for the two of you to get close again, still sensitive from your previous release. within a few minutes, your juices coat his length and another load lands on your back, seeping down and settling into the dip of your spine.

you're both catching your breath, ekko presses a kiss to the shell of your ear, and you have to stop him from kissing you more. "we're almost there," you hiss, and he huffs, lifting off of you to get himself together,

thank god there were paper towels on board. he cleans his release off of your back and skirt, managing to get the both of your appearances together by the time the yacht met the docks.

the moment the captain comes back to thank you for riding with him, ekko's giving him the quickest thank you possible along with his tip and rushing you off of the boat.

"let's get back to the room? i just wanna see that set you have on a little better."

you know that the second that door closes behind you in the hotel, there is not a chance you'll be stopping.

__________________________________________

pssst!: not the most confident in this one.,. i will make up for this one i swear 😔 locking in!

maybe a part 2 with what happens at the hotel cough cough

[asce-of-hearts]

May I request a yandere doflamingo with prompts 🦥🦘🐰 please

Caged

Contents: Yandere!Doflamingo with prompts: 🦥🦘🐰 (gn!reader)

more Doffy content here

TAG LIST

WARNINGS: YANDERE, IMPLIED KIDNAPPING, SUGGESTIVE, NOT PROOFREAD.

The vulnerability of being captured is what hurts the most.

Everyone is more or less trapped by something, or someone. Even his crew, his crew is trapped by him. You have heard about it, him battling with a young woman who demands to be let go, but ultimately it never happens, and she relents after moments of struggle. Will that be your same fate? Stuck in the same cycle of anger, hatred and defeat. Of begging, pleading and then taking, demanding, fighting tooth and nail a battle that you know you won't win.

The thought is morbid, and the leafy patterns of the walls in his room start to distort as you continue staring at them.

"Restless?" He asks, startling you, out of your train of thought now. You cling to the silk robe he has given you to cover your body, the remains of his touch in your skin visible under the dim light of the 70s style lamp. His grin is wide, his eyes hidden under polarized glasses. You don't answer immediately. "Or was the temptation of staring at the wall too hard to resist?"

He's mocking you, and you can't help but lower your head as he comes closer, pressing a tender kiss against the top of your head. It's strange, how you've learned to stop running anymore, to stop trying to hide from it, from him and his affections. Maybe this is a cycle of your own, of misery, of coercion, of regret.

"I was thinking," you answer in a murmur, and he lets out a pleased hum, a purr that reverberates across his chest, like a machine powered by sadistic electricity. "I didn't want to fall asleep before you came back."

"Ah, so you are that scared. Of what exactly... the darkness? Or someone else?" His tongue traces the shell of your ear, you cringe at the sensation, resisting the urge to coil away in disgust. "Don't act coy now and start running away, come on..." His hands, far larger than anyone else trace at the naked skin of your thighs, the bruises and bite marks left there, your breath hitches. "Don’t tell me these touches meant nothing. Don't tell me we're back in square one."

"No, we are not. I'm just... just tired." You lie through your teeh, earning a pleased growl from him. It's strange how much he reminds you of a wild animal, maybe it's his fashion choices, or how he moves like a big cat, feline, elegant, menacing.

"Tired and afraid? Deadly combination, now answer what I've asked you. Are you afraid of me, ___?" His voice doesn't care to hide the underlying threat, hanging in the air like a buzzing insect that tries to crawl inside your ear and eat at your brain. His hand moves from your thigh up to your chin, moving your jaw to force you to look at him.

"I'm... I'm afraid the usual amount one is afraid of you," You try and give a convincing answer. "The correct amount that one would be afraid of a venomous snake, or a weasel if one was a mouse, of a tiger, a lion. I'm afraid of you like that."

"Ah, well. Then there's nothing to worry about." He lets go of you, and manhandles you until your legs are tangled with his over the massive bed. You cock a brow, confused by his answer. "The comparisons, the analogy, what a smart thing you are, my ___. And you're right, you’re so right, darling. I am perverted, sick and sadistic." His laugh echoes around the room, and you feel yourself tense at the sound. This mansion, the bed sheets, the luxuries, it's a trap, like how a venomous flower attracts an insect with a sickly sweet aroma. It's a cage, golden and shiny, but a cage nonetheless, nothing other than a death trap, in which you'll perish sooner or later. Maybe in a few months, or in a few years.

"I... I guess you are," You whisper, not knowing what else to say when he laughs at you again. His hands come to catch yours, grabbing you by the wrist. He pulls them towards his chest, pressing your palm flat against the broad skin.

"I want to feel your hands on me, they’re so pretty~. Don't you want to touch me too, ___?" He purrs, and you can feel his growing length pressing against your legs.

"Yes, I think you do."

ghuuuuu

hope you enjoyed this

have a great day/night

TAGGING: @bookandyarndragon @massivepenguinunknown @eroscastle

@goldenglow149 @lurexin @hbk99450 @stranger00001 @kitzusune

@3v37773 @mizzhellsingsstuff @coolnekochan9961 @chercheryblossomsweet

@hannas16 @mimihaitani @bad4amficideas @flow33didontsmoke

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[skibasyndrome]

Not the edmar anon, hope it's ok to say this but, I really would appreciate when people write wilmon as a version of edmar or camouflaged as edmar that it would be tagged properly. I'm not policing anything or telling people not to write what they want 💜 because getting inspired by a photoshoot or a candid picture is normal and it's more about knowing how to insert wilmon into that scenario which is harder but possible.

I guess I just wished there was a tagged specifically for it? I'm actually surprised there isn't one since there's a good amount of fics with it but anyway I hope I said that in a respectful way, it's just a personal preference.

Hey, it's absolutely fine to say this and I do definitely appreciate the way you worded things, but I'm still going to lay out my personal view and some broader thoughts on this, hope that's okay.

(putting this below a tag because I don't wanna put my personal fic preferences out there just like that where they could be discouraging to others)

I don't know if you are saying this to me because you perceive my wilmon, when they're inspired by, say, a photoshoot, as being camouflaged edmar? You're if course totally allowed to feel that way, like you say, personal preference, but I just wanna say how I go about things.

Because to me, they're two very different things. And while I do occasionally take aesthetic or thematic inspiration from photos or photoshoots (just like I take aesthetic or thematic inspiration from some things I read about or hear about or see IRL that also aren't yr canon), I always set out to put wilmon when I label it wilmon. One of the things that's keeping me from writing edmar is that I don't know these men. Like, sure, I have a rough idea of their public persona and I think it's super cool for writers to pick that up and use it as a basis for their rpf, but the way I approach writing these days this just... isn't enough? Idk Omar, idk Edvin, who knows what they are moved by and what they think about. Wille and Simon (and tbh Wille more than Simon) are characters that I feel like I know and, at least in mt subjective reading of them, know enough to put into varying scanerios, even when the scenarios aren't always close to canon.

I mean sure, interpretations vary and everyone sees the characters and what they'd be capable of in different scenarios differently, so there's bound to be some differences, but I can guarantee that when I call and tag something as wilmon I do my very best to make it the wilmon I know in the way I understand them. And that's just me and my stance, but I can obviously only speak from my own standpoint.

This might be where some of the conflict comes from? I don't read nearly as much as I'd like to read, but I do certainly find myself sometimes going "yeah, this isn't selling me them in this particular scenario/with this behavior/these emotions", just because I have my version of the characters and that doesn't always align with other people's reading. Again, idk what fics in particular you are referring to here, but I know that I've definitely also seen ones that were based off edmar things and didn't, again, just to me and my personal preferences, go enough into the thoughts and feelings I'm used to reading for Wille and Simon in order for them to feel like them. But for me this isn't usually a thing that only happens when something is based on IRL happenings, it also happens with all kinds of AUs and canon-compliant stuff, just because I have my preferences and one of them is like... enough internal focalization on the character to make it clear why they are in a scenario, and if that's missing then it just doesn't quite work for me. But, tbh, that doesn't mean that it doesn't work for the author and for plenty of readers. And, I wanna make this very clear here, I really don't think one interpretation is more correct than the others! I think there's a large pool of possible interpretations that are informed by the source material and it's absolutely possible to come to different conclusions based on all kinds of factors. Like, idk, some people might say the characters would have the same base personalities when they're adults, others might say there's still so much for them to learn and discover so that they inevitably change in some (or a lot of) ways.

Like, popstar Simon for example. That's a concept I don't reeeeaaaally have any strong feelings on, but I know people are somewhat divided. And like, on one hand I can see why the Simon who happily posted his song to Instagram and got excited about the feedback could be written into a popstar, but then I also understand that for someone else the breach of privacy he experienced would keep them from comfortably imagining him as a popstar, you know? Both seems plausible to me, jaut based on different characteristics or behaviors or experiences of the characters.

And that's kind of where I'm at with the wilmonification of edmar, I think it can be done in a way that feeds off the characters and makes sense for them. And I can't say who does or doesn't do this "the right way", because I think it's a hugely subjective thing. And I know you said you don't want to police people's writing, which I do very much appreciate 💜 But even with the tag... it feels a bit like... where do you draw the line, you know? Because there are some things that the characters share with the actors who played them (namely their looks, a few select character traits that the actors built off to create the characters, the singing, etc) and I personally would find it difficult to draw a clean line. I think some people are already tagging or noting in the A/N if they base something off a photoshoot, or the duo campaign for example, but idk. Does every buzzcut Wille gets in a fic need to be tagged as inspired by Edvin, just because Wille only lived on our screens for 18 episodes and didn't have a buzzcut at any point because we only got to see a few months of his life, while we're going to see Edvin for however long his career stays a public thing and he's probably going to try out every haircut under the sun in the meantime?

I hope I'm not coming off harshly here, I definitely can see where you're coming from, but I'm just a person with their own worries and thoughts about the things I write, you know. I think part of my reaction to this is informed by the time I got a nasty anon who accused me of being fetishizing after they claimed somewhere else that I had written a wilmon fic that was essentially rpf, and I didn't like that accusation, because, at least in my mind, I had done everything to make those characters the Wille and Simon we (or at least I) know (because I don't think a haircut or outfit alone makes them... not them. I think you just need to explain how they ended up with that outfit or hairstyle). Or, idk, when I see Omar at the beach that's one thing, but when I then get an idea for wilmon at the beach, while maybe initially born out of those pictures, it still comes from a very different place cognitively and creatively for me. I'm not like "I want to write about Omar", what I actually want to do is throw Wille and Simon into a new scenario and see how they behave in it. Because wilmon never had a canon beach vacation, but I think it could be interesting and fun and hopefully entertaining to have them go through that.

So... idk. Maybe I'm not the best person to ask this, maybe there's too much baggage there or maybe I'm too unwavering in seeing my wilmon as wilmon, but I do hope that you can find fics thar work for your preferences and that the search isn't too frustrating. And maybe now that it seems like more and more people are getting comfortable writing actual edmar rpf when they mean to it's going to be less likely that very... hm... typical edmar situations are turned into wilmon fics? But idk. I think many people are very likely genuinely writing wilmon when they say it's wilmon, I know I am, but... yeah... the fact that we all see them slightly differently really makes things difficult.

Anyways, sorry if I took this entirely the wrong way and you meant it differently, no hard feelings, I know it's sometimes difficult to find exactly the version of them you have in your mind. But I do, like I said, really appreciate the way you worded this and I do think it's an interesting conversation to have, even if our opinions on it (maybe?) differ, but yeah. Hope you have a nice day and hope none of this came off the wrong way 💜💜💜

[evelynpr]

Aether and Lumine, despite canonically interchangeable as traveler or abyss ruler, with little to no changes depending on which twin the player picks, still have slight differences which are fascinating

Iirc, Lumine's JP VA mentioned that Aether is the cuter one (bright, energetic), and Lumine is the cooler one (warm, compassionate) among them (I don't have the source for this though, so do correct me if I'm wrong).

Lumine also has a slightly higher charged atk multiplier, and atk speed. People have also compared their stances during The Divine Damsel of Devastation, pointing out how Lumine's is offensive, while Aether's is defensive.

Well uh...that was an awfully long intro on how the travelers have differences in personalities and traits. Anyways, this post was meant to be about Dainslumi and Dainther lmao-

Both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, Dainslumi is far more popular than Dainther is (as in...I've been scrolling through the Dains tag for 10min and have not found as single post with this ship...sob)

I say surprisingly because usually people are really fond of "little guy who's a ray of sunshine" x "sad beautifully pathetic tall man who's dark/moon coded" but I guess I underestimated the power of "Stoic morally ambiguous girlie who shines like the sun" x " same beautiful pathetic man" (is this making any sense. idk, I'm just writing thoughts) (this is also a big generalization, of course there's more to these ships than just these descriptions, that's what I plan to do).

Do I also need to clarify this is not complaning about Dainslumi in any way? I really do love it, and its on my top mlw Genshin ships most definitely.

But also like, come on we are really missing out on the Dainsleif x Abyss!Aether content. Frankly I think there is generally much less Abyss!Aether in general because hyv does favor Abyss!Lumine so. Yeah. Mmm...

[nectar-cellar]

Hi, how are you! I was wondering what nose sliders you use? I’m jealous that you don’t use nosemasks! I need the tea

heyyy :3 oh i have a wall of text for you.

i only avoid nose mask makeup because i can never remember which one i used on who + i dislike color matching as i can never get it exactly right. so i just avoid it to keep it simple for myself. i try to keep makeup minimal on my sims since i often change up their makeup. i like the look of it on other people's sims, it can add a lot to an aesthetic, you should go ahead and use them if you want!

well the first thing is to use a skin that already has a cute nose on it, because you don't want to fight with a texture you dislike.

i end up adjusting a lot of sliders... i can't think of an easy way to describe how i shape the nose. i'll give some general tips for how i personally do it below. i do have my sliders folder up for download in my tagged/dl: sims if you want it but i think it's more about how you use any sliders you do have and the overall shape/proportions of the nose, rather than which sliders because there is no one slider that will create the ideal nose. it's more about creating your own nose-sculpting technique which i'm sure is different for everyone, and creating a nose that suits the sim you're envisioning.

my hobby is watching makeup and plastic surgery videos so i guess i think about noses and facial features a lot. i will discuss tips, settings, and specific sliders below...

i am only sharing my process, there is no correct way to make sims, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and nose shapes can vary so much.

i like to start with a clean slate. if i'm doing a townie makeover i will usually have a look at their slider settings and reset any extreme ones back to zero, or reduce those settings to less extreme values.

head section -> i set the (base game) Face Profile slider to about 100 or 200. this brings the nose and chin out so you get more projection from the 3/4 view and from the side no matter what your nose settings are.

nose section -> (base game) Nose Definition slider: i keep this one between -100 to 100. i like a softer look to the nose. at higher settings i find the definition looks too harsh. for flatter noses especially for sims of colour i'll reduce the nose definition to -50 or -100, sometimes more if it looks right.

(base game) Nose Scale and Nose Width sliders: i usually will reset these to zero if i'm doing a townie makeover because i often disagree with EA's slider values. the nose anchors the face so by setting it back to zero it helps me judge other proportions of the face, as well as parts of the nose itself. the nose scale and width are usually the final adjustments i make.

(base game) Nose Mass slider: for very defined noses i tend to keep this at zero or 25, for softer or flatter noses i will increase this to around 100 or more, it just adds softness/mass/width to the nose bridge area.

(base game) Nose Rotate slider: i keep this slider fairly neutral between -75 and 75. when deciding on the upturned/downturned angle of the nose, i adjust this slider first, then go back and adjust more later if needed.

(base game) Nose Tip Scale slider: this affects how much the nose tip juts out from the side view, and how wide your nose tip looks from the front. i usually keep this one at -50 to -200. it's about proportions though. you might want to enlarge the nose tip if the profile lacks outward projection, or if you're just sculpting a nose with a bigger and wider tip. if you already have quite a defined, strong nose then you might want to make the tip smaller to keep the nose shape overall proportionate. if you have a large nose tip, you might want to make other parts of the nose smaller/weaker to sort of let the bulbous nose tip have its spotlight.

(base game) Nose Tip Rotate slider: after i do the Nose Rotate slider, i go to this slider to decide how much i should rotate the nose tip specifically, to see what angle looks good with the nose's overall angle.

Nose Tip Width slider: pretty self explanatory, you can create a daintier or stronger nose tip by adjusting the width. cc slider linked below. not sure if base game has one

Nose Tip Height slider: so this defines how high or low the nose tip "stretches" down, kinda hard to describe and the right setting depends on the nose shape but i use this quite often. it miiight be a cc slider i'm not sure

(base game) nose bridge sliders: for the profile, i adjust the nose bridge depth, nose bridge rotation, and nose bridge height sliders to get the angle i want. then i adjust the nose bridge width which affects how the sim looks from straight on.

finally for the nostrils, i usually set the definition, height, scale back to zero then i adjust it to be proportionate with the nose i'm sculpting. also i will fine-tune the rotation of the nostrils here to make them more or less flared. you can use the Nostril Scale slider and the Nose Width slider together as they both affect how wide the nose looks.

sliders i love

thornsofpeace - thornsboxynosetip slider. so this slider basically creates a narrower, more defined nose tip that i cannot replicate with any other slider. i keep it at 0 to 100, maybe up to 200 for very defined/prominent noses. or very itty bitty bella hadid noses.

simtanico - nostril widen slider. this slider makes the nostrils wider which is very useful and can't really be replicated with other sliders. i usually set this to 100, sometimes 200 or 300 for sims with more prominent nostrils. i use this in combination with other nostril rotating/lifting sliders. simtanico has a lot of nose sliders to try out but i use this one the most.

simtanico - nostril lift slider. i use this slider with the one above to get more flared/lifted nostrils. the amount really depends on the nose/face.

oneeuromutt - nose tip y scale: this slider affects the side profile and the nose tip from the front, basically making the nose look more or less sharp/defined

oneeuromutt - nose tip width: self explanatory

oneeuromutt - nose tweak: an interesting slider that can flare the nostrils and nose shape outwards or inwards

oneeuromutt default replacement nose sliders - good to have

and there are more sliders i use here and there of course but i think those are the main ones.

[songsofadelaide]

bring on the night — ijichi x (f) reader. Indulging your every whim was your former classmate's guiltiest pleasure, a well-kept secret he'd never give voice to even if he was held at gunpoint.

tags and warnings: slice of life, alcohol, drunk conversations and confessions, tooth-rotting fluff. wc: 1.8k

Gojo is always the first to call for dinner and drinks after work, even though he isn't the greatest fan of alcohol. He'd playfully harass you and Ijichi to join these tiny gatherings, too. You knew the behemoth found a lot of amusement seeing his usually straitlaced colleagues get all drunk and sappy and weepy after one too many drinks.

Fortunately, you were already used to Gojo's routine of ordering one too many drinks for your shared table, so the alcohol being passed around usually ended up in the hands of the strongest drinkers, Ieiri and Nanami.

Or rather, the glasses slip through your fingers because of one assistant manager's watchful gaze on you.

"I haven't even started drinking yet, Kiyo-kun," you chuckled at the bespectacled man sitting right next to you. "Tell you what, I'll only have three drinks. You can start taking the glasses from me afterwards."

"Are you sure? You usually don't drink that much..." Ijichi responded as he reluctantly returned the glass of beer he "confiscated" from you just moments ago.

"Ah, well, I guess I'm feeling a little... nostalgic, if you say," you said with a small laugh this time, your thumb running over the rim of the tall glass filled with golden liquid courage. "And a little... brave."

From across the table, Ieiri mused as she took a sip of her beer. "You two have always been the closest, huh? Even before."

"Only because Kiyo-kun can't take his eyes off me," you said with a teasing laugh. "I mean, I was indeed the bumbling idiot of our class, but—"

"Y-You aren't a bumbling idiot," came Ijichi's retort, to which you replied with even more tender laughter.

"I wasn't," you corrected his understanding, his nervousness only compounded by the way you playfully bumped shoulders with him, your elbows brushing against each other. You beamed as you gently elbowed him, your eyes sparkling in anticipation of the praise he had for you. "Of course you think I'm a pretty competent sorcerer now, right, Kiyo-kun?"

"The best," he said with a smile and a small sigh of defeat. There was no refusing you, even before. Indulging your every whim was your former classmate's guiltiest pleasure, a well-kept secret he'd never give voice to even if he was held at gunpoint.

Or so he thought it was. A secret.

"I thought so! There's no doubting the words of the most trustworthy assistant manager, is there?" You proudly puffed your chest out and jokingly wagged a finger at Gojo, who only responded to your silliness by handing you another glass of beer.

"No lies there," the silver-haired man replied with a grin as he raised his hand to call a waitress's attention. "Excuse us! Two more beers, please!"

Along with the beers came plates of lemon chicken, beef croquettes, and endless chatter from the real best sorcerer of your generation. Discussions drifted from your group of friends' shared memories of youth, the current students' aptitude in missions, to everyone's personal relationships, with yours and Ijichi's at the center point.

You rested your head on Ijichi's shoulder, hardly able to hear what he was saying at that moment, though his trembling was evident from the way your vision shook alongside his every word. He brushed his cool knuckles over your warm cheek, a familiar look of concern washing over his chiseled features as he gently pulled away your second glass from your fingers.

"Would you like to call it a night?" He asked, his voice now steady as he wiped away the sweat that pooled in your temple. "I'll..."

"Don't worry about us and just take her home, Ijichi," Ieiri stated with a little smile of confirmation, gently pushing a glass of water in your direction. "We'll see you both at school tomorrow."

Gojo simply gave you both a thumbs up as clearance to go home.

"What do you think, Shoko? She's always been an open book, but she's pretty ballsy tonight. Why can't Ijichi take a hint?"

"I think you should stop meddling in their affairs and let their relationship run its course," the good doctor said as she drank deeply from her beer glass. Her painted lips curled into an amused smile as she helped herself to more lemon chicken. "But I agree with you for the most part."

It's been a while since Ijichi had you in his passenger seat. As the newer members of the Tokyo faculty, you and Nitta were often paired up whenever you had missions. You'd happily listen to the young motorhead talk for hours about what she'd do to her vehicle if the school ever permitted her to.

In contrast to your car rides with her, trips with Ijichi were always calm and quiet, mostly because he would urge you to rest up, regardless of whether you were headed to or back from a mission.

Unlike Nitta, who'd simply drop you off at the nearest and most convenient landmark for you, he always knew where to drive you home. He was a frequent visitor to your family's house when you were both still students, after all. It was a simple place you once shared with your parents and siblings, but they've since vacated it for an even simpler life near the shoreline. Ibaraki, he recalls you telling him before when you once invited him in.

He'd refuse, as always, sputtering out whatever reason he could think of so he could leave you to rest. He used to love your mother's cooking when you were younger, but now it seemed like he couldn't stand being alone in the same room with you. As the car slowly pulled into the familiar street, you could sense his gaze flickering to you and your gated home.

"We can stay here for a while longer if you still feel unwell," Ijichi said as he pulled up the handbrake. "Shall I lower the air con—"

"Ugh... I wanna sleep on my bed, Kiyo-kun," you whined at him. You expected him to panic at your little complaint, but you were pleasantly surprised to see him chuckling in the driver's seat. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. You always have an air of reliability about you whenever we're with Gojo-san and the others," he recounted with a smile. "You... You're only so spoiled when you're with me."

"And whose fault do you think it is that?" You turned in his direction, your eyes shining with tears that had yet to fall as you held his gaze. "Kiyo-kun, you... spoiled me so much that you've ruined other men for me."

"Wh-What?"

You said earlier that you were feeling a little braver than usual, but you didn't expect it to be in the form of crying your heart out, warm, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you sobbed in your seat. "I don't understand! I-I can't get you to fall for me, no matter how forward I am with you! You don't know how long I've liked you! The missions when we were students terrified the heck out of me, but I always looked forward to completing them and returning to the campus because you were there waiting for me! A-And you'd fret over me whenever I came back with more bruises than usual, even though Shoko-san could heal me up! And... And you're still like that today! You—"

Ijichi couldn't believe what he was hearing. You, of all people— the class goddess— liked him. He never thought much of your adorable gestures back then, only that it felt good to have someone in his corner. He was always filled with a strange sense of satisfaction whenever you acknowledged his hard work. Filing reports and ensuring their accuracy by confirming details was not as easy as he made it out to be. Not to mention the logistical aspects of missions...

"Waiting for you is the least I could do," he said with a rueful smile. "It always pained me, especially back then, having to send you out on missions on your own. I wanted to be strong, but the gauge of strength himself said I'd be better off driving around and doing desk work... But thanks to his sound judgement, I am still around to take care of you."

"You do know I can protect you, Kiyo-kun," you retorted, sniffling as you brought your sleeve to your nose. Ijichi fished out a pressed handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to you, his smile of regret slowly melting into a look of tenderness.

A look of utter adoration. The perfect response to your tearful tirade. To your unwitting confession.

"I've no doubt about that, but it would be better for both of us to continue doing the things we are good at, wouldn't you agree? I, for one, would like to continue taking care of you after your missions."

"W-Well, if... if you want to take care of me now, come inside with me," you said with a tiny pout. "You ne—"

Ijichi unbuckled his seatbelt and reached over to cup your face in his warm hand, his coal-black eyes drinking in your features, gazing at you like you were the only thing worth looking at in the world.

"O-Oh... K-Kiyo-kun, y— Why are you looking at me like th-this?" You stuttered, wanting to bury your burning face in your hands, but his low laughter echoed in the car, his voice as grounding as always.

"I only refused to come inside with you out of my great respect for you. I... fear I may think improper thoughts if we're alone," he stated as he leaned back to his seat. "A-And now that I've said it out loud, I—"

"Oh, no you don't!" You snapped at him, grabbing him by the tie before he could successfully evade your gaze. "Please, Kiyo-kun, I am begging you to disrespect me now before I take matters into my own hands!"

As though he could ever refuse such an earnest look from you. Indulging your every whim has always been his greatest pleasure, after all.

"Ijichi-san, you're late! And your tie is crooked," one of the first-years remarked as Ijichi fumbled through the faculty doors with documents on their mission in hand. As the assigned teacher for that mission, you closely followed behind him with an elated smile, imaginary flowers and sparkles practically floating around you with how blissful you looked.

"My, what an unusual sight," Ieiri said with a knowing smile on her face as she stubbed out her lit cigarette. "Rough night, Ijichi?"

"W-Well, I...?" The man in the black suit was just about to start explaining when you stepped into his space and gently reached for his necktie, carefully straightening it out and patting his chest before eventually moving to brush a kiss on his cheek.

"Wh—! Y-You guys are—?!" Came the first year students' equally surprised reactions. "You guys are dating now?!"

"Ijichi-san score!"

"Who confessed first?!"

"You guys are gonna get married eventually, right?!"

You could hardly get a word in with the inquisitive young faces quizzing you about your relationship history. "Sh-Shoko-san? A little help here?"

"Better answer every question since I'm pretty curious myself," the good doctor's peach-colored lips curled into a coy smile that only meant even more trouble for you. "But congratulations, and it's about damn time."

[bitbybitwrites]

20 Fanfic Author Questions

Haven't done one of these in a while, so let's give it a go. 😊

Many thanks to the following folks who tagged me 💖💖💖💖: @porcelainmortal , @alasse9 , @theprinceandagcd

Answers under the cut . . .

How many works on AO3?

38

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

281,632

3. Top 5 fics by Kudos

i hate waiting (RWRB/FirstPrince) If I can Make Your Heart My Home (Glee/Klaine) Falling for You (Glee/Klaine) hold me close (RWRB/FirstPrince) smutsgiving 2023: RWRB/FirstPrince

4. What fandoms do you write for?

Glee/Klaine RWRB/FirstPrince

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to . . but to be honest Ive gotten a bit overwhelmed with my inbox right now, so Ive stopped at the moment. I do read every one and love that people take the time out to write anything at all. One day I'll finally catch up and answer everything. *sigh*

6. Angstiest Ending?

Most of my stuff usually ends up happy at the end . . . with a lot of angst in the middle. So not sure if you'd qualify this as angsty but its certainly not a happy ending. . . Come Into My Parlor (Glee/klaine)

7. Fic with the Happiest Ending?

Like mentioned before i think most of my fics have happy endings . . .so I'll pick this one - because it is a pretty wholesome feel-good ending: Falling for You (Glee/Klaine)

8. Do you get hate?

No. I've gotten some very passionate comments, mostly about what characters are doing in certain stories, but nothing that I'd take as a personal attack against me or my writing in general.

9. Do you write smut?

I do but its a constant struggle because it doesn’t come easy for me. Most of the time it slows me down writing because i agonize over those parts so much!

10. Do you write crossovers?

I have done a few and would do it again. . but mostly I do stick to original AUs when I write. Dancing In The Moonlight - Glee/Klaine and The Adams Family Advanced Potions - Hogwarts!AU - Glee/Klaine and Harry Potter study date - klaine hogwarts!au - Glee/Klaine and Harry Potter

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge. But if anyone hears anything, let me know!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

No.

14. All time favourite ship?

I love Klaine and FirstPrince equally. Those boys make me so happy.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I intend to finish everything . . .eventually - the problem with me is WHEN I'll get to do that! An ongoing list of my WIP can be found here.

16. Writing strengths?

Dialogue, I guess . . humor . . angst? . . Maybe I should ask any readers about this. What do you all think I do well?😂

17. Writing Weaknesses?

Smut . . . its so challenging. And just finding time to write in general.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue? 

I don't mind it. . . As a reader, I like the extra depth it brings to a charater. As long as there's a translation for me to read. I enjoy it. As a writer, it can be a bit nerve wracking because I think and write in English and then try to translate it over, which sometimes doesn't always work. I am lucky bc one of my betas speaks Spanish so I often bounce ideas off of her when I need that for characters. But for a recent ongoing WIP, I decided (because I'm insane) to include A LOT of French in my dialogue. I had used an online translator, but thankfully one of my readers jumped in to offer to help with corrections and any French translations going forward!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Officially - like posted stuff, would be Glee/Klaine . Though I've been making up fandom AUs/ bits of stories in my head for years before I knew what fanfiction was! i just never shared it with anyone! 😂

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I love all of my fics! It's hard to say which is my all time favorite . . but I will say that ( though it's almost finished - 1 more chapter left) If I Can Make Your Heart My Home (Glee/Klaine) will always hold a special place in my heart . . its been a true joy writing it and seeing how others have reacted to it. It's also my longest piece to date - a little over the length of a novel (127,206 words) - and has taken me a LONG time to write . . ( its been a year and 10 months) The whole writing process for this has been very challenging and very fulfilling to do. I have very much fallen in love with the AU and will be happy to revisit it after the fic is complete.

Well this was fun . . I'm going to tag some lovely writers to take part (no pressure - only if you want to!) and leave a big OPEN TAG for anyone who sees this and wants to jump in . .

 @iboatedhere , @forabeatofadrum,  , @firstprincehornyramblings , 

@sophie1973 , @onthewaytosomewhere  @heartsmadeofbooks

 @getmehighonmagic, @caterpills, @blueeyedgrlwrites, , @annepi-blog,

@myheartalivewrites , @14carrotghoul, @kirakiwiwrites, @emeryhall

@wowbright @coffeegleek, @cha-melodius

@gleefulpoppet , @special-bc-ur-part-of-it   @daisyishedwig @sarkyblueeyes , @hkvoyage

@tinyarmedtrex, @1908jmd , @sparklepocalypse @spaceorphan18, @firstprincehornyramblings

@kirakiwiwrites , @cha-melodius @yadivagirl, @lady-divine-writes, @cryscendo 

@rockitmans, @madas-ahatters-world , @little-escapist  @thesleepyskipper  @caterpills

@nocoastposts, , @thinkof-england , @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion, @blurglesmurfklaine 

[sheiireen]

a short dkbk fic... 'Inhibitions' tags: post431 / one-sided izuocha / drunk boy(s) / misunderstanding / angst

“I'm going ahead!” Katsuki shouted to Izuku, who was still in the middle of undressing himself. He heard the splash of Katsuki jumping into the hot water.

After a quick shower, Izuku joined him.

“This feels really good...”

A few days ago Izuku would have never guessed that he'd be the lucky person Katsuki would invite to an onsen retreat vacation from his agency. The best part was that it was a private onsen, so it was just the two of them! It's been a while since they both hung out alone. They've either been with their classmates or with Izuku's students when Katsuki joined their classes as a co-teacher. Izuku was really happy that they could finally spend more time together. Submerged in the heat of the onsen, they stared at the stars for a while before Izuku decided to speak.

“How are you feeling?” Izuku asked Katsuki. He noticed the furrowed eyebrows and swam a little closer.

“Don't worry about anything work related, Kacchan. They'll be fine for a few days!”

“You're one to talk...” Katsuki bit back.

He wasn't wrong. Izuku brought some papers to correct until Monday, but that was different from hero work! Apparently Katsuki overworked himself to the point he collapsed at the agency, hence the forced vacation. Izuku had noticed the dark circles under Katsuki's eyes the past week and he hoped he would feel better after this trip. Izuku wanted him to smile and relax more.

After the first signs of dizziness they decided to go back into their room. They changed into their yutakas and Izuku flopped onto the futon. “It's so comfortable!”

Katsuki clicked his tongue. “I still can't believe they gave us the honeymoon suite. And there is no one here I can complain to!”

Izuku chuckled. “Come on, it's not that bad.”

Katsuki glared at him.

“Besides...it would be just like the old times, when we had sleepovers watching All Might movies.”

“You have no idea...” Katsuki said quietly.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Katsuki walked up to the cabinet and checked out the drinks. It was filled with all sorts of alcohol. “Woah. Don't they have any water?” He complained.

“There's a vending machine in the lobby.” Izuku stood up and took out some coins from his purse. “Do you only want water? Anything else?” “Just water is fine.”

When Izuku came back, he brought two huge bottles of water. He suggested trying some of the alcohol, since Katsuki was usually the driver and didn't get to drink much when they were outside. Katsuki wasn't happy with the idea, until Izuku challenged him - a challenge to find out who could drink more. The winner would get a wish granted.

“So you're backing off, Kacchan?”

“I never said I'd back off.”

Izuku should have known that Katsuki was a light drinker. After their fourth drink, his cheeks were already adorned in a pretty pink, while Izuku was only tipsy.

“One more!” Katsuki slurred.

“I...don't think that's a good idea, Kacchan.”

“Huh, you givin up, Izuku?” Izuku looked at the bottles and had a brilliant idea. “Ok, Kacchan. One more. The winner will be decided after the next round.”

Izuku hid the glasses and filled them with water instead of alcohol.

“Drink up.” Izuku felt a little bad for deceiving drunk Katsuki, but it was for his own good. He regretted suggesting this challenge anyway. It was dumb, and the only reason it happened was because he missed the challenges they used to have. Katsuki gulped down his glass while Izuku stopped midway. “I- I can't. I'm done.” Izuku lied.

Katsuki opened his eyes, at least as much as he could in his state and smirked. “I win!”

Izuku sighed, but smiled softly. “...I'll grant you any wish, Kacchan.”

“Any wish...?” Katsuki hesitated and kept his gaze away from Izuku for a moment before he moved closer. His red eyes sparkled when he clutched Izuku's yukata by his chest. “Will you grant any wish...?” He repeated. The sudden proximity flustered Izuku and he felt his cheeks flush with warmth.

“Kacchan...?” Red, glassy eyes were piercing through Izuku's green ones. He was frozen as he felt Katsuki's warm breath on his neck. Katsuki kept glancing at his lips. “Then...I want you...to kiss me.”

Izuku gulped. Kiss-?

It was Katsuki's wish, right? Izuku said he'd grant any wish, right?

Izuku slowly leaned in, but stopped midway when he registered Katsuki's unfocused eyes. This was wrong.

“Kacchan, I'm sorry.” He gently pushed Katsuki away by his shoulders.

“Can you ask me again tomorrow, please?” When you're sober, he mentally added. He spoke in a soft tone.

Katsuki looked at the floor, so Izuku couldn't see his eyes. He was quiet for a while, before he stood up and stumbled out of the room.

“Kacchan?” “'t was a mistake. I won't bother you again.”

“Where are you going?” Izuku followed him. Katsuki swayed as he walked down the stairs and Izuku caught him by his arm right before he fell.

“Kacchan. Please come back, you're clearly drunk!” He pleaded. That's when he saw the tears in Katsuki's eyes. A heavy feeling spread in Izuku's heart. He knew it was somehow his fault. He pulled Katsuki closer. “I'm sorry. Don't leave. Please?” Izuku strengthened his grip on Katsuki's arm. “Let's talk about this tomorrow, okay?”

It seemed like all strength had left Katsuki. He allowed Izuku to pull him back into the room. He was silent the whole time, even when he was tucked into bed. But there was a sadness on Katsuki's face that broke Izuku's heart and made him force away his own tears. Tomorrow. They'll talk about it tomorrow. He had so many questions, but he needed Katsuki to be sober for that.

When Katsuki woke up from a restless sleep, he found Izuku cuddled up to him. His arms were wrapped around Katsuki's torso – as if he wanted to make sure Katsuki wouldn't leave. His head was throbbing, how much did they drink last night? He tried to recall the drinking game and how it ended,when a message on his phone popped up. It was from Ochako.

“Hey, how is it going? Everything good? :3”

Katsuki sighed and threw his phone away.

Ochako had asked to meet him a week ago.

“What do you want, Round Face?”

“I want to confess to Deku.” Katsuki's heart skipped a beat. He bit his lips before he replied.

“Oh yeah? Good for you. Didn't need to tell me.”

Ochako pulled out an envelope. “This is an exclusive onsen holiday I was gifted by my agency. A very popular destination among couples. I wanted to ask Deku to go with me.”

Rub it in, Katsuki thought. He felt anger creep up. “Congrats.” He shrugged, but his voice came out sharper than he intended.

Ochako then slipped the envelope to Katsuki. “I need to know first.”

Katsuki just blinked at her.

“I can't confess to him if I don't know how he feels about you. And if I ask him he'll just deny it.” Her eyes were determined, while Katsuki was just confused. “The hell are you talking about?”

“I want you to take him there. If nothing happens, I'll confess to him.”

Katsuki scoffed. “So you're pressuring me into confessing?”

Ochako shrugged. “Or him. We will see.”

Another buzz brought Katsuki back from his thoughts. “Helloo?” Another text from Ochako.

He groaned. Fuck it all!

They had a quiet breakfast, but Katsuki could feel Izuku's eyes on him the whole time. “Are you feeling ok, Kacchan? Any headache?”

“I'm fine.”

Izuku rubbed his neck. “So...uhm...do you remember anything from last night?”

Katsuki put down his coffee before replying. “Not much. We had some drinks and then I remember waking up.”

“Oh...” Izuku's voice had a disappointed tone in it.

“If I said or did anything stupid, don't take it too seriously.” Katsuki stood up and started to clean the table.

They decided to go hiking. There was a mountain nearby that Katsuki had always wanted to climb. After two hours, they finally reached the top.

“Wow, look at the view!” Izuku said excitedly.

It was breathtaking. The sea of trees below was covered in all shades of red and orange and the stream from the river added to the peaceful atmosphere. Katsuki smiled.

When Izuku noticed, his smile grew. “This is amazing, Kacchan! Thanks for taking me here.” It wasn't me who was supposed to be here, Katsuki thought. He turned his face from Izuku when he felt a lump in his throat. Fuck. Whenever he tried to recall what happened last night all he remembered were fragments of disasters. Katsuki had tried to kiss Izuku and he pushed him away. That memory was engraved in his mind, the one thing that he'd never forget even if he tried to.

He rejected Katsuki.

“Hey Kacchan. Don't you think that this hill looks just like the one from All Might's Silver Era movie?”

Katsuki heard Izuku's footsteps walk towards a hill. “It looks exactly the same!” Izuku said happily. He positioned himself in a powerful stance as Katsuki's bit his lips.

No. Izuku raised both arms.

Don't. He bent his elbows and with a loud voice, he said “I AM HERE.”

Every movement slowed down for a moment. Even the wind danced around Izuku. He looked mesmerizing. Like the sunlight. Like a real hero. The words echoed in Katsuki's ears. 'I am here'. Who would have guessed that the brightest smile on Izuku's face would be what made Katsuki break down completely.

Liar.

He didn't even bother hiding the tears.

When Izuku noticed, he ran up to Katsuki. “Kacchan! What's wrong?!” “Let me go!” Katsuki shouted as he slapped Izuku's hand away.

“You have no right to say that.”

Izuku was speechless.

Katsuki started to walk down, he didn't want to argue on the top of a mountain. Izuku was surprisingly quiet when he followed Katsuki's trail.

Walking down calmed him down. He was able to collect his thoughts and give himself time to prepare for what was next. He took a deep breath. Fuck it, he would let it all out now. Who cared anyway.

“You're really good at rejecting things, Izuku. I have to applaud you for that.”

“I haven't stopped being a hero, if that's what you mean, Kacchan?” His answer came out like a question. Katsuki almost felt sorry for him, because he genuinely seemed confused. Katsuki shook his head. “It's not the same. When I said I want to compete with you for the rest of our lives, I meant that. I still do.”

He stared at Izuku's wide, green eyes. Katsuki scoffed. “Yeah real shocker huh? Go ahead and tell me how childish I am, I don't care.”

“I don't think that. I would never think that.”

“Why did you leave then?” His voice cracked, betraying how hurt he was. He noticed some tears in Izuku's eyes. “I didn't know you felt that way, Kacchan. I'm sorry!” He moved one step forward and when Katsuki didn't move, he took it as permission to approach him. Izuku took Katsuki's hand before he went on.

“I didn't think you'd care that much, Kacchan. I can't promise you I'll go back as a full-time hero, but if that's your wish, then-”

“No. It's too late for that...and last night you-” he instantly shut his own mouth. Izuku just blinked at him, mouth open.

The silence that followed felt like an eternity.

“...You know, I haven't skipped any of my training program because sometimes I do think about doing more hero work.”

“Oh really?” Katsuki's sarcastic remark showed that he didn't believe him.

“Yeah. We can test it out here?” Izuku smiled. It was his signature smile that challenged Katsuki to a duel. A sign to make up. Katsuki made out a hint of insecurity in his voice, though.

“I don't know what you want to prove. You won't win against me anyway.” Katsuki swiped his last tears away.

“Winner gets a wish granted.” Izuku shouted before they started. After that, they did the dumbest challenges: Who could climb a tree the fastest, who could find the most beautiful flower in the next five minutes, who could lift the heaviest rock. In the end, they ended up with a tie. Even though the challenges weren't too hard, by the end they were lying on the grass, exhausted from all the running and yelling at each other about who won which part. It was the first time in a while Katsuki felt relaxed. Izuku chuckled, too. “This was fun.”

“I clearly won.”

“No, I did!”

They stared at each other and laughed. They lay in the grass for a while, watching the clouds pass by as the wind rustled their hair.

“...Hey, Kacchan?”

“Hm?” “Can we act like I won the challenge?” Izuku's voice was serious and Katsuki opened his eyes to see his expression. Izuku was lying on his side, eyes fixed on Katsuki. Normally, he wouldn't back down, even if it's for a stupid challenge, but the earnest gaze in Izuku's eyes made it hard to resist. Katsuki sighed in defeat. “Sure, nerd. It's your win. What's your wish?”

Izuku rose and put each of his arms around Katsuki's face.

“I want to kiss you.”

// The end. ----- A short epilogue:

Katsuki never replied to Ochako's texts. The first day, because he had nothing to say, the second day, because he was too embarrassed to tell her what they have done.

When he arrived at his apartment, Ochako was at his door.

“Soo, how did it go?”

Katsuki looked away. “...Sorry.” He couldn't hide his guilt. Why did love involve hurting others in the process? It sucked so much.

Katsuki expected tears, but Ochako smiled, letting a long breath out. “I see.”

“I'm glad. For both of you. Make sure he's happy, ok, Bakugou? I'll make you pay if you don't.”

Katsuki nodded.

“And you, please be happy, too, okay? You deserve it.” Ochako said. She had a genuine smile on her when she waved him goodbye.

When she was almost out of sight, she turned back. “By the way, if you ever collapse at work again, I'll have to force you to take a whole week off.”

Katsuki's eyes widened in realization. “Wha- Hey! Come back, Round Face!” When he made it down the stairs, she was gone already. Katsuki let out a stunned sigh and looked at the night sky. Next time he sees Ochako, he'll make sure she'll get the biggest and best thank you she's ever received in her life.

[clownshifting]

I usually do this with reblogs so posts don't go kaput.

This is a response to @abyssal-werewolf's anti-pshifter post. This post includes additional links, so you're lucky!

____

As I said in a post before this, we usually have this conversation over shifters every 4 months and it gets tiring to see the same rhetoric. Usually, I just block, but right now I'd like to talk - no fighting because I'm too old for that. Okay? Okay …

by @/thefirstfamilypack: "We are not people with lycanthropy [CLCZ], we are actual physical shifters. This is a totally different community than those who have clinical lycanthropy or mentally "identify" with someone that's not "human" such as otherkins. We never claimed to be that, that's a whole different thing." "If you don't have the genes for it then sorry you're not a shifter." by @/h-micideinthemirror (apparently deactivated, found a reblog of a post by them): "I'm so fucking tired of seeing therians talk shit about actual nonhumans […] I'm not delusional […] I'm just a person, who happens to be a wolf." by @/harloqui: "However, I 100% agree with the message towards delusional alterhumans. […] What shifters can do you cannot […]"

Let's start with this. I took all three quotes, why not, you quoted one of my friends and I think that's silly but it's okay, because you left out the multiple times shifters and CLCZs themselves have spoken about the correlation.

Harloqui, P-shifting vs. Delusions, https://www.tumblr.com/harloqui/715717991189315584

Harloqui, On the whole debacle, since it's revving up, https://www.tumblr.com/harloqui/739653834144661504/jfc-let-me-touch-this-before-some-weird-conspiracy

Bearwithme, Answering an Anon, https://www.tumblr.com/bearwithmeshifting/697488181905473536/skeptic-here-much-of-the-explained-process-for

Minkewhale, Ahoj Aethetikins, https://www.tumblr.com/a-minke-whales-tale/773746753742749696/ahoj-aethetikins-i-can-to-some-extent-at-least

Minkewhale, CLCZ and P-shifters, https://www.tumblr.com/a-minke-whales-tale/764242117170167808/clcz-and-p-shifters

Endelculture, Those who physically shift, https://www.tumblr.com/endelculture/775140278272245760/endel-culture-is-wishing-there-were-more-love

Evrymori, What is a p-shifter, and whats the difference?, https://www.tumblr.com/evyrmori/762891873865121792/what-is-a-p-shifter-and-whats-the-difference

Bubblerings, Part of my identity, https://www.tumblr.com/bubble--rings/775789174481682432/physically-shifting-and-transforming-is-a-huge

Yorkiegregg, I guess discourse is inevitable, https://www.tumblr.com/yorkiegregg/779773684507394048/i-guess-discourse-is-inevitable-online-but-i-want

Whenever this correlation is brought up (delusions and shifters), there is a 100% chance that everyone immediately says "we are not the same," not because they see delusions are inherently bad or lesser or weaker but because it is a reactionary response to what otherkin and therians have been saying for the past decade; "if they're claiming it, they're either delusional or lying," as seen here...

https://www.tumblr.com/gibdokin/741638765624377345/psa-i-just-saw-pshifters-in-the-kin-tags-yall?source=share

The reactionary response of "we are not delusional" is a fear response to how delusional oftentimes means "not real" in alterhuman communities, not set up by pshifters (because you claim we're basically out of the picture by being deactivated on most of our accounts (unless we're pulling strings??)) but by alterhumans themselves against endels. In the time I've been in shifter circles (2019-present), I have not seen any shifter actively disregard CLCZs and if they had done so, I'm pretty fast to speak up about it, and so are others to correct bad behavior.

2nd screenshot link; https://www.qfeast.com/poll/c7SVpq/What-is-your-opinion-on-otherkin (2017)

In conclusion: p-shifting originally referred to tangible, Real physical shifting, while vocally, aggressively excluding delusional folk and looking down on them (and otherkin as well).

Untrue, given what I showed and what I said but okay. Please go back to 2017 and before in the tumblr search or of multiple prolific alterhuman accounts and you'll find talk about endelity and how most of the skepticals were not shifters. This is a collective effort and everyone is at fault for being ableist, but by far, alterhumans have dominance and have spoken their peace about how they feel about CLCZs and endels.

This is by definition not possible with the term p-shifter: in order for delusional folk to reclaim this term, it would have had to be a deragatory word to describe delusional folk, which it never was.

In smaller cases the term pshifter has been used against endels and CLCZs, you just didn't account for that. So yes, many do reclaim the term but know the muddled history. Also, we aren't reclaiming the term, we are using it as it was intended; meta/physical shapeshifting. No additional definitions or restrictions needed.

As Harloqui says, "Reclaiming a term: if by "reclaiming" you mean "using it in a way that isn't abusive" then actually yeah, I don't have an issue with that. Which is what I've seen most who want to reclaim the term want to do so for."

Yes, the community looked down on delusional people, but the term itself actively excluded CLCZ and similar beings. Generally speaking, the term was never a slur used for anyone, it was always a positive and self-choosen term, created by the community for themselves. You cannot reclaim this term by definition.

First sentence, no they haven't, it was a reactionary response to many alterhumans calling shifters delusional, which becomes "I'm not delusional!" Second sentence, it isn't a slur so why are trying to "let it die"? Third sentence, no one is reclaiming it nor have they said they are..? Okay.

a-dragons-journal: "[…]using the word is still making it sound like you're making a physical claim. […]

Because we are. Shifters are meta/physically shifting. They have been doing it for centuries, this not anything new ever. It is a physical claim because it is a tangible, physical experience due to subjective beliefs and identity. It is crafted, it is perfected, it is executed, and then displayed as being shapeshifting. It is a craft, it is an art form - shifting is not required as a shifter but as an identity one must feel that physical urge beyond species dysphoria and beyond pre-established ideals.

who-is-page: "[…] You can't erase the history of the term […] and the ways in which it's been used (and, most importantly, continues to be used!) to hurt others. […]

Silly. No one is doing this nor has any shifter ever said "this term has no bad blood." But okay, I guess. We're saying that our identity can be shaped and changed regardless of terminology, but this terminology has been so deeply engraved that we can't do anything. Hey! Shifters have even used shiftomorph and etc.

P-shifters have harmed and continue to harm delusional folk, spit down on them, disrespect them and put themselves above them. Why on EARTH would advocating for the usage and acceptance of this term be a positive thing? How would that help?

Hi, Holothere was made in conjunction with multiple shifters in court. (https://www.tumblr.com/clowncaraz-journal/774795408055697408/terms-and-stuff-rambling-about-holothere-as-a?source=share) The holothere symbol was made by two shifters. The physical nonhuman community was shaped around the influence of shifters (https://www.tumblr.com/shifternortheast/757840741472026624/sounds-good-to-me-the-anchor-is-pretty-unique-and?source=share) and the perception of their existence - even their name has been used to bash endels and CLCZs on a scale far greater than the identity itself - please do not tell anyone ever for the rest of your existence that shifters are "spitting down on them" when half of the hate had bloomed from the refusal to accept delusional identity in the form of shapeshifting. Shapeshifting claims that began with shifters. Shapeshifting is a common experience in endels and CLCZs. The claim of shapeshifting is the reason most alterhumans had gotten on endelity and CLCZs. That's what you may not understand that beneath the surface, it isn't black and white as they may make you seem. Everyone is at fault.

Unlike subjective reality, you (technically) need to provide proof to claims you make that refer to Reality.

Sorry, I believe you also took the approach of seeing pshifters as those claiming an objective reality and not a subjective one. Which.. isn't what you're supposed to do when analyzing the differences between old vs new in relation to reclaiming terminology and the usage of it. Shifters have explained this and here is the Shifters: A Guide (https://docs.google.com/document/u/0/d/1pfibt8ECchsoEaKhHp9BagrYyNsQcCuarq1J8Z1m_hg/mobilebasic) document I made that goes deeper into what shifters are. p.s, shifters don't even use "pshifter" unless they're making you upset, wink wink.

The rest usually claimed it was based on DNA. I don't know percantages on this, but from what I have seen, I would say at least half of them claimed to be able to teach (or claimed they learned from someone, which supports the same stance from a different pov).

Funny. This is just in time I get to pull the harloqui card just as you have and link to this post (https://www.tumblr.com/harloqui/779397664448086016/the-mathematics-of-shifting?source=share) where they talk about the mathematics of shapeshifting regarding pshifters. While not "proven science", it's one of the many types of way shifters have gotten out of their way to discuss scientifically how their shifting may work.

Now, let's look at your sources!

Swiftpaws

This is one that discusses psychosomatic changes while saying physical shifts are impossible. Physical shifting includes psychosomatic shifting.

"The phenomenon can be explained by the mentality, just a changing of the energy, and the body wanting to express the animal side more clearly.

Physical Shifters wiki page

"Shifters, often referred to as "P-Shifters," are individuals who subjectively experience or believe in the possibility of literal, physical transformations into non-human or mythical entities."

I revamped this wiki page actually! It also includes the document I made and multiple other links of information that shifters have built.

Anyway. Subjective is in the definition. We don't believe objective reality can align with our identity when none of us have been investigated, but we can assume that our identity is subjective and vast and won't be explained to be "Real" enough for others.

As for everything else, it's where you got the quotes from and I've already talked about that, haven't I? No need to drag it on.

Want to know what I think? It's in this post, it's in previous posts, it's in the way I hold myself and talk about my identity. Shifting is in my blood, in my ability, etc. No one is going to take away my ability to speak about it. No one is going to tell me that my terms need to "die". I didn't write and I didn't make art and start a convention, etc to bring together a community just to be told that we don't deserve terminology.

Shifters and CLCZs and Endels don't deserve to be harassed because anti-shifters are targeting groups that like to understand others. There's understanding. Can you learn this too?

Here as some stuff you should read in order to learn more about shifters. We genuinely just want to shapeshift and enjoy our nonhuman lives. The ones who give us a bad name aren't even active, don't know about this new community on Tumblr, and have been denounced from our wider communities.

https://www.tumblr.com/a-minke-whales-tale/764242117170167808/clcz-and-p-shifters?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/bearwithmeshifting/697488181905473536/skeptic-here-much-of-the-explained-process-for?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/clowncaraz-journal/777434480816308224/no-hate-to-the-original-commenter-asking-me-this?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/harloqui/699159136396607488/so-this-is-surprisingly-relevant

https://www.tumblr.com/clowncaraz-journal/773569728519323648/i-basically-had-introduced-some-basic-rules-to

https://web.archive.org/web/20090830090430/http://geocities.com/LanceFoxx/thesasebopshift.html

https://pshifting.carrd.co/

https://forum.monstrous.com/index.php?topic=7062.0

https://forum.monstrous.com/index.php?topic=2477.0

https://rayne-vandunem.livejournal.com/27502.html?es=1

https://www.tumblr.com/were-link/750851820070535168/hi-i-saw-you-were-looking-for-a-pack-for-physical