#lets be real though I was always destined to write this fic

[bloatedandalone04]

When Faced with Darkness

➪the one where you and anakin reunite years after he turned to the dark side.

Warnings: angst, that’s really it, anakin being manipulative, just a short fic because i was feeling inspired to write something like this

Word Count: 1.2k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ Thank you for 3.3k follwers MWAH

“Call out to me,” you hear his unmistakable voice say again. You glanced around at your surroundings, finding nothing but the emptiness of your old room at the temple. Your old shared room, the one you hid away in with Anakin. That room had long since been destroyed, so you couldn’t quite figure out how you were back in it, or question where all the furniture went before he spoke again. “Let me in. Call out to me, angel.”

Angel.

Your heart faltered at the name and you peered out into the darkness, seeing nothing at all, but feeling that he was close by. Anakin. “Come to me,” you requested in a quiet voice, his presence growing stronger with each passing second. “Come find me.” 

Though your words were faint, they echoed around the room and called back to you as a tall figure emerged from the shadows a few steps away. “I’ve found you,” he spoke and you turned around quickly, your eyes meeting his almost immediately. 

His voice was a mix of himself and someone else, but his appearance was exactly what you remembered it looking like. The scar on his cheek, the flow of his hair, his teasing smirk, everything. “Anakin,” you murmured, a grin breaking out on your lips as he inched closer, his head tilted as he, too, observed you. “Is it…is it really you?”

He stepped towards you, a hum bubbling in the back of his throat as he held his hands behind his back. “Who else would it be?” He teased in his soft yet enticing voice.

It never failed to draw you into him. 

Maybe that is why you were here now, because you weren’t as strong as you needed to be. Not when it came to him. 

It looked like him, sounded like him, even felt like him, but Anakin is gone. He’s been gone for a long time now, and what replaced him was a darkness that even the brightest star couldn’t shine through. 

Still, you couldn’t help but let yourself fall into a state of denial, wishing that this was real, that he was back and was as desperate for you as you were for him. It wasn’t hard, seeing as he looked the exact same as before, just more stoic. More dark and intimidating than he had ever appeared in all the years you’d known him. 

“I’m not sure,” you answered honestly, watching as he walked around you in slow circles, his eyes raking up and down your form as if he was trying to remember how you looked under your gown and robe. “I’m not sure what’s real anymore.”

Anakin stopped in front of you, his smirk fading into a teasing smile as his gloved hand reached for your wrist. “Look around you,” he softly ordered, watching as you obeyed him without any hesitation. You were still his obedient, sweet girl. “This is our room, isn’t it? The one we shared together.”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head quickly. The room was the same, but it was just empty, so void of love and care and secrecy. You couldn’t bear to think about the last time you were in this room, back when you were at your happiest and had everything to look forward to. 

Back when Anakin was still here and hadn’t given himself up. When he didn’t let himself slip further and further to a one way destination. 

But he was here, right in front of you and giving you the same look he always did when you weren’t feeling like yourself and needed comfort. It was the same look, but it wasn’t him. 

You hadn’t even noticed that piece by piece, the furniture began to fill the room, mirroring the way it looked before. 

Your head felt like it was spinning, but Anakin’s grip on you tightened to ensure you wouldn’t fall. “Now look at me,” he quietly demanded. “Look at me.”

“It’s not real,” you admitted to yourself, despite your heart screaming at you, begging you to give in and let him do whatever he wanted to you. This was better than not having him at all. “It’s not…”

But he hushed you, “Y/n,” he spoke sternly, that same, much deeper voice from before creeping back in alongside his own. You hadn’t heard him say your name in so long, you had almost forgotten what it sounded like. “Look. Look at me.”

You always were weak when it came to him. Lifting your head, you meet his eyes, briefly glancing into the ones of a sith before you let yourself drown in the orbs of blue. Releasing a long sigh of relief, you let your tense body relax under his gaze, rendering yourself to him almost completely. 

“Good. That’s good,” he praised, keeping his hand wrapped around your wrist as he moved it upwards. Placing your palm flat against the left side of his chest, his burning gaze never faltered as he pressed himself against your hand. “Feel me. Feel that I am here, with you, in our own room.”

Your head told you to pull away and run for the nearest exit, but you couldn’t see anything past all the shadows. All you could see is the apparition of your lover, who you lost ages ago. “Anakin,”

“Feels right, doesn’t it?” He asked, a small, barely there hint of mockery in his tone as he removed his hand from around your wrist and allowed you to keep your own pressed against his heart. “Feels just like before.”

You stifle a surprised cry, looking up at him with watery eyes. “Why are you here? Why now?” 

His expression softened, but it was just an act. A way to tear your walls down and rip apart the growth and healing you’ve endured since losing him. You should, but you can’t bring yourself to push him away. You can’t bring yourself to not give in to him.  “Because you needed me,” he answered simply. “Because you still need me.”

You shake your head but don’t pull away when he places his hands on your hips. The coolness of his glove sends a shiver up your spine, a repressed groan of longing slipping past your lips. 

“And I still need you,” he added, daring to step closer to you and successfully invading your space. He made it his own as he reached his left hand up to caress the side of your face. “We’re one in the same, angel. We always have been.”

A shaky sigh leaves your mouth before he is covering it with his own. His lips envelop yours softly at first, but the gentle kiss grows stronger, a certain sinister feeling slipping from him to you, but you don’t pull away. 

You grip his shoulder and cry a call of his name when he breaks the kiss. “Anakin,”

He grins down at you, a wicked and twisted sight right before your very eyes. “I know,” he consoles, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead and gripping the sides of your face much tighter than before, but it only leaves you wanting more. 

How unfortunate of you to be so weak when faced with the embodiment of true darkness. 

“I know,” he repeats his words, sliding his hands down so they’re pressing against the base of your throat. “Now, give in to me.”

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

vampire!dave mustaine x reader | word count: 4120 | ao3 link

It was inebriating, how completely surrendered to him you were. How fragile, and warm, and wanting.  How human.

✦ on this fic: NSFW!!!, dave mustaine x female!reader, +18, language, romance, mxf sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, blood mention, blood drinking

✦ a/n: It's October! And in honor of spooky month I came up with this one-shot. It's my first time writing directly in English (I usually write in my language and translate it) so I hope it's written okay. Hope you like it, feedbacks are welcome! ❤

You and Dave had an agreement.

You were close, but not too close. You both knew you could rely on each other no matter what, but you also knew there was something deeper, something you never had the guts to admit. You held onto the hope that one day the stars would align and things would magically fall into place. 

But then came the incident.

You'd always prided yourself on being unshockable, even in the wild streets of '89 LA. So when he showed up at your door looking like he'd been through a meat grinder, your first thought was that he’d probably gone and overdone it with the drugs again. It was becoming a familiar routine, taking care of him when nobody else cared. With a heavy sigh, you let him in, helping him stay on his feet and noticing how cold his skin felt.

"Dave, seriously, this time we might need to call a doctor."

"Nah," he grunted, voice strained. "No doctors. I'm good."

"What the hell happened to you?" You grabbed his hand and plopped down beside him. Whatever he'd taken this time, it was way gnarlier than his usual drug trips, and that's saying something. Dave looked like he was on the verge of sweating bullets even though it was a hot LA night. He was feverish, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead while he shook like a leaf. It should've been balmy, but if you judged by his icy-cold skin, you'd think it was the middle of winter.

"I got goddamn turned, that’s what happened" he hissed through clenched teeth, his whole body convulsing with pain. You took a step back, heart pounding like crazy. Well, that was one curveball you hadn't seen coming. Vampire attacks had become rarer than a sober rock star in the last few decades, but they still happened. You had a cousin who got bit a few years back, but luckily, the doctors managed to suck out the venom in the nick of time. That memory kicked you into high gear as you scrambled to find your damn keys.

"Dave, seriously, we gotta get you to the hospital. Maybe there's still a chance..."

"No, man, there's no damn time!" He yelled, desperate, and you just stared at him, totally stunned. "They made me drink their fucking blood. It's a done deal, I'm a fucking monster now, no way back from this!"

Your heart plummeted. Real-life vampire transformations weren't as simple as the movies and comics made them out to be. You had to get jabbed with vampire venom and guzzle some vampire blood almost right after to make it work. Plus, those bloodsuckers could choose whether to shoot their venom or just chow down on their victims.

So that meant the turnings were pretty much always on purpose.

Once it was done, it was game over.

You inched closer to Dave, your heart heavy as you gazed at the man you'd been secretly crushing on for ages. It was too painful, watching him suffer like this. You'd always held onto that hope that the stolen glances, the way you looked out for each other, and the sheer joy you found in each other's company would someday turn into something more than just friendship.

But right now, it felt like you were on the verge of losing him. Vampires weren't exactly welcome in human society; they were straight-up predators, destined to lurk in the shadows and strike when the night fell. If Dave had gone down that dark path, maybe it was time to say goodbye to the days of you two being together.

But you couldn't let that happen. You couldn't let him suffer, wounded, scared, and all alone.

Because you had an agreement.

You knew you could rely on him; he knew he could always count on you.

Dave's eyes widened as you got closer, extending your wrist toward him. He stared at you, confusion and hunger swirling in his dilated pupils. 

"Drink," you whispered, your voice trembling. He shook his head, looking horrified by the suggestion, but you closed the gap even more. "Please. You need this, Dave. You need me."

You shut your eyes and turned your head away as his hunger took over, and he sank his teeth into your skin.

It was one of those nights, the usual routine. You'd roll in from work, and there was Dave, chilling on your bed in the pitch-black room. You hadn't laid eyes on him for days, but you knew the drill. He hated having to feed, hated hurting people, but he couldn't seem to find any other way around it. Except for one option: you.

Dave had initially refused to feed on your blood ever since he had almost killed you, that night many months ago. You'd tried helping him find some alternative, but turns out, it was a way tougher gig than you'd thought. Animal blood did nothing for his thirst, and he wasn't skilled enough yet to drink from people without going overboard and killing them — or getting dangerously close to it.

The best you could come up with was nabbing a sip from folks who'd just kicked the bucket, but that meant finding fresh corpses without drawing any heat, and that was easier said than done. Maybe for him, it was a walk in the park, but for you, a regular human, helping him sneak into hospitals and morgues after dark was a recipe for disaster. Dave didn't want you caught up in the mess, or worse, in jail, because of him.

In the end, offering up your blood was the easier fix if he didn't want to go full-on vampire and start killing people. It was the one way he could hold onto a tiny shred of his former human self. At the beginning, it was rough on him, no doubt about it. You watched him suffer, saw how terrified he was of losing control.

But with time, he toughened up. After the initial shock wore off, his thirst started to chill out. Nowadays, he only needed a sip every week. You knew that if he was doing things the "old-school" vampire way, he'd be guzzling down a whole human's worth of blood every couple of months, but this was the sanest workaround you could come up with to keep the body count at zero.

You were cool with it, as long as he stuck around. As long as you knew he was okay.

At first, he used to nibble on your wrist for a meal. But after just a few weeks, he upgraded to the neck. It was smoother for him and more comfortable for you, too. Better access, and if you ever got woozy from the blood loss, he could keep you steady. But having him that close? Well, that was... let's say, unsettling. Sure, maybe he wasn't human anymore, but it didn't mean your feelings for him had just vanished. In fact, being the only tie he had to his old human self just made those feelings kick it up a notch.

"Your heart's pounding," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. You gulped hard, cursing how damn close you were, and how he could practically read your body like a book. After drinking your blood, his lips and cheeks had acquired a subtle pinkish tint, and his once warm, brown eyes had turned into this oddly beautiful shade of red.

"You freak me out," you fibbed, the excuse tumbling out in a rush but full of stubbornness. He grinned at your words, a playful glint in his eye.

"Do I now?" he teased, giving your hip a gentle squeeze as he pulled you closer. His chilly skin pressed against yours, sending shivers up your spine. He nuzzled your neck, his tongue brushing against your tender skin, making you whimper. "You know, they never spill this secret before they turn you – you can smell fear. And the scent of fear... it's something else. But you, you're not afraid of me, even though you probably should be."

"Why?" you breathed out, doing your best to shove aside the way your heart was practically doing a drum solo now. In the good old days, back when he was just human, you'd daydreamed about this like there was no tomorrow. To be this close to him, to feel his lips upon your skin. But now, with him all changed up, being this near wasn't anything like what you'd pictured.

"I could kill you right here, drain you dry," he growled, and you let out a little whimper as he bit down again, pulling you close and setting you down on the bed. His bite gradually turned into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You had to muffle a moan with your hand when he started sipping from your neck, taking even more of your blood. He backed off, fingers gripping your chin, making you meet his gaze. He studied your flushed face, lips slightly parted, eyes bleary. "And yet you like this. Why?"

"I dunno," you breathed out, shakily. You let out another whimper as he pressed his body against yours, his grip on your hair firm as he locked eyes with you, a fiery intensity in his gaze that revved up your heartbeat. You gasped in shock when he kissed you, his tongue diving into your mouth, the taste of your own blood making your head spin. You tugged at the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer like it was out of your control, and he let out a soft laugh against your lips.

"I can smell desire, too, you know?" he mentioned, his hand sneaking under your pants and tracing along the edge of your panties, sending shivers down your spine. You opened your mouth, caught off guard, your face turning all shades of red, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever with him. How could he read you like a book? You hated this new side of him, the side you didn't know how to deal with, the side that fully understood the power he had over you.

The side of him that enjoyed it.  

"Dave, we shouldn't be crossing this line," you managed to whisper, and he let out a grunt.

"We've already crossed so many lines," he argued. "Plus, I owe you. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

"I don't want us doing this just because you think you owe me," you frowned, and he huffed in response. You licked your lower lip, a fresh tension building between your legs. Even though you were still pissed at how he could see right through you, it wasn't like you didn't want this. "You can have whatever you want from me, no need to ask. As long as it's you..."

"No," he grumbled. "Don't say it like that, like I mean something to you. I'm a damn monst—"

"Oh, shut up," you whispered, cutting him off, and he gave you a puzzled look. Sure, he might be a whole new version of Dave from the one you used to know, but did it even matter? "You're not a monster. You got turned, yeah, but you're still you . And I'd give you anything, Dave, even if you were still human. That's how it's always been. I just..."

Your words trailed off as his lips crashed into yours again, his chilly hands gripping your waist firmly, and you couldn't help but let out a muffled moan.

"I wanna eat you whole," he groaned. "If you only knew how your heart races when I lay my eyes on you. It's driving me wild. If I'd known you felt like this sooner..."

"You know now," you whispered. His gaze locked onto yours, carrying a mix of anger, sadness, and something else. Something intense and deep that made your stomach twist and your skin tingle. Something that made you feel like he could have his way with you — and you'd let him.

"You're not exactly making this easy," he muttered, his voice low. You let out a nervous chuckle. You'd always pictured this — his body and yours, tangled up in your bed. In your fantasies, he was still human and madly in love with you. Was he in love with you now? Or did he only love how human you still were? How you stood by him even after his life had taken a nosedive and changed forever?

Did any of that really matter?

"I don't want easy," you replied, trailing your fingertips along his collarbone, slow and deliberate. You pulled him closer, your lips nearly brushing against his. You could feel his breath on your skin as he held you, making your heart race faster. "Everything's already a damn mess. If you wanna eat me whole, then just go ahead and do it."

He let out a deep groan as he yanked you closer, urgently, his hands roaming your body eagerly as you both stripped off your clothes. The room was dark, with only moonlight to guide you; his pale skin was smooth, soft against your naked form as his lips trailed all over you. You couldn't help but let out a throaty moan as he peppered you with kisses, drawing you closer and closer to him.

"Dave..." you hid your face in his hair as he teased your breast, biting down gently and leaving a trail of purple marks across your skin. He let out a low groan in response, grinding his hips against yours before pulling back slightly, looking deep into your eyes. He looked beautiful, supernatural; otherworldly strange, and that only made you love him even more. You wrapped your hand around his cock, using his precum as lubricant as you swiped your thumb over the tip in a slow, circular motion. He closed his eyes, grinding his hips against you as he let out your name in a strained moan. “Please, Dave, let me make you feel good.” you whispered. It was all you'd ever wanted, really — to serve him, to give him everything he craved and needed.

To be his, forever.

Dave moaned your name again, his strong arms pulling you close. You tangled your hands in his hair and locked your lips with his once more. His tongue dove into your mouth, kissing you with a fiery intensity. You wondered if it felt different for him now that he could sense the warmth of your blood, hear your heart racing, and smell how he was setting your body on fire.

He sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he kept kissing you. He let out a grunt when your lips traveled to his ear and then down his neck. You bit and sucked on his exposed skin while he dug his fingers into your hair, your lips and tongue exploring his chest, his stomach, his thighs.

And then his cock.

You started on his tip, your tongue slowly licking on it, pressing and rubbing it against your lips, tasting him leisurely. You raised your eyes to look at Dave; he looked back at you, his eyes bleary and out of focus as one of his hands grabbed a fistful of your hair. He wrapped his hand around his cock’s base, pressing it against your lips, and you opened your mouth obediently, welcoming him into your mouth.

“You’re so warm.” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his body tensing up as you moved your head slowly, up and down, the taste of his skin invading your mouth. He panted, bucking his hips forward. “You feel so good. Wanna cum inside your pretty mouth, oh fuck…” 

You whimpered as he started moving his hips, tears filling your eyes as he pushed your head down on his cock. He groaned, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he took control of you, pushing it slowly until you had all his length inside your mouth. He then pulled it out, rubbing the tip against your lips before he pushed again, and again, until he was moving in a steady rhythm inside your mouth. 

“Look at me.” he grunted, and you tried your best to raise your teary eyes and look at him. He groaned when his eyes met yours. You were trying your best to keep breathing while allowing him to fuck your mouth harder and harder. Your throat was growing sore as your pussy throbbed. You were such a mess. You were so happy. He needed you. You loved him. He was yours then, his lips parted as he moaned your name and his cock ravaged your throat, all control you both could have had in that moment forgotten as he arched his hips forward and moved faster, and harder, and… “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna-Oh, shit!” he cried out as he came inside your mouth. You did your best to swallow it, the bitter taste lingering on your mouth as he let go of your hair, his breath uneven as his eyes closed. 

You sat down in front of him, trying your best to clean up the mix of semen and drool that ran down your chin. He gazed at you, his red eyes shining in the dim room, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His ginger hair was like copper against his pale, bare skin; you were never gonna grow tired of how stunning he looked.

"Get over here," he murmured, pulling you closer. You settled onto his lap, legs wrapped around his waist as he nuzzled into the curve of your neck, his breath tickling your skin. He kissed your neck slowly, then moved up to give your earlobe a gentle nip, and you let out a sigh, shutting your eyes.

"Dave..." you whispered, a hint of pleading in your tone. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he continued to lavish your neck, jaw, and collarbones with kisses.You were miserably wet, your pussy aching as you felt his cock grow hard once more against your thigh.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”he whispered in your ear, and a soft moan escaped your lips as he grabbed your ass firmly. You pressed your body against his, burying your hands in his hair as you ground your hips together.

“Oh, fuck.” you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes again. Your whole body was aflame against his cold skin, fire and ice melting together. Your heart was pounding as he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, holding your ass firmly. He grunted when you moved your hips eagerly, holding you into place and preventing you from sitting on his cock. “Dave…”

"You're gonna have to ask nicely," he whispered, his voice deep and alluring, like a predator who knew his prey couldn't escape. He whispered your name, his tone surprisingly tender, and you let out a sigh, your cheeks growing warm as he gripped your neck, his fingers urging your face to meet his gaze. "Tell me what you want."

“I want you to fuck me.” you pleaded, and he laughed at how easily he could command you. He was having fun, drunk in his power and in you, the sweet smell of your hair, of your blood, the warmth of your skin. It was inebriating, how completely surrendered to him you were. How fragile, and warm, and wanting. 

How human.

"Say please," he teased, a sly grin playing on his lips. You let out an exasperated groan.

"You're messing with me."

"Am I?" he pressed the tip of his cock harder against your entrance, and you whimpered when he penetrated you with his tip for just a bit before pulling out. “Tell me what you want.” he commanded, and you couldn't muster the strength to resist him any longer.

“Please, fuck me.” you pleaded, and he laughed before pulling you closer. You moaned as you felt his cock enter you, adjusting to his size as he pushed slowly. You gasped when he put it all inside, the tip of his cock hitting the sweetest spot inside of you. It felt so, so good. He was going so, so slow. It was maddening, you were on fire, you felt whole for the first time in forever. 

You started moving, slowly at first, but then setting into a steady pace as he held you close, burying your face in his hair. You were sure you were dying, drunk on the smell of his body and the feel of his cold skin against yours, but you couldn’t care less. It was like poison, feeling his cock thrusting deep inside of you as you moved up and down and he whispered your name, his voice strained as he moaned with you and held you so tight it felt almost as if he would break you. 

You didn’t care; you were his now. You were bonded to him. You were his.

You moaned his name as he started rubbing your clit, your pace growing faster as he pushed harder inside you. You were shaking, your legs were burning as you rode his cock; it felt like heaven. You whimpered when he slapped your ass, burying his nose on your neck and then biting on your skin, tasting your blood once again as you bounced on him. 

You knew he was close, too; his grip on your skin tightened as he pulled away, blood trickling down his chin as he looked deep into your eyes and you moaned louder and louder, your tits bouncing up and down as you chased your high, holding on to him like your life depended on it. 

“Dave, you feel so good. Dave, oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum. Dave… ” you moaned, words growing irrational and senseless as your pussy started contracting slowly. He moaned, praising you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear — how you were such a good girl. How you tasted so good, how you felt so tight around his cock, how good it felt to be inside of you. You cried out as your orgasm took every little bit of control you had left, making your whole body contract and shake. 

Dave grunted, holding you close as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, sweet, lovely words leaving his lips like honey, taking you over the edge again, and again, and again, and now he was coming too, his thick semen filling you to the brim as his thrusts grew sloppier. You buried your face in his hair, allowing him to take his cock out of you, your pussy still throbbing with pleasure, feeling suddenly faint. 

"Oh, God," you whispered, and you could feel Dave's quiet laughter beneath you more than you could hear it as he held you close. "I think I might pass out."

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he whispered, panting, and you weakly chuckled. "You lost a lot of blood. I shouldn't have taken so much."

“I think I’d be okay if you weren’t fucking me while doing it.” you grumbled, and he laughed again. His fingers traced along your back, and you sighed contentedly as he lifted you effortlessly, placing you on the bed and lying down beside you. You opened your eyes, studying his face, taking in everything that made him who he was. He looked more like the old, human Dave than ever before, with the vulnerability he showed, that old beautiful smile on his lips, and a touch of cockiness that only made him more endearing. “What’s making you smile?”

"I love you," he said. You blinked, your lips parting slowly. For someone who prided yourself on not being easily surprised, you found yourself caught off guard by him quite often.

"I love you too," you managed to whisper with a giggle. He smiled and pulled you closer.

"I know. I've known for a while," he said, pressing his index finger against your chest. You blushed when you realized how fast your heart was beating. "See? It's so loud I'm surprised you can't hear it."

"Oh, shut up, you freak," you whispered, and he laughed. You studied his face, running your fingertips softly along his lower lip. "I'm kidding. You're not a freak. But I am. I'm in love with a damn vampire."

"Do you care?" he asked, a slight hint of worry in his voice. You smiled and shook your head.

"Hell no, Mustaine."

"Then it's all good."

"Yeah."

"As long as we're together," he whispered, and you smiled, knowing that nothing had changed after all. You knew you could always count on him; he knew he could always count on you.

You were bonded.

You were his.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Undercover Problem

Summary: You volunteered to go on an undercover mission without really reading the mission report or acknowledging that there would be someone going with you. When you learn that you would have to pretend to be married to Marcus Pike on this mission you end up having a nervous breakdown. Because you're 34. And you have never been kissed.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x fem. reader (though it can be read as gn. reader)

Worcount: 2.8k

Rating: G

Warnings: made up facts about the FBI and undercover missions, anxiety attacks, food, fluff, humour as a coping mechanism, fluffffff

A/N: This goes out to all the late bloomers (and everyone else who just want to read a cheesy first kiss) If I missed anything that makes the reader gender neutral let me now. I tagged this as fem. reader because I always write with a female reader in mind.

follow me @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified for new fics

You walked through the FBI headquarters with, what you hoped looked like, a professional smile plastered to your lips, nodding at anyone who greeted you. Trying to appear not like you were fleeing to your office.

You could only hope nobody could see the anxiety attack that you were on the verge of having. 

The door of your office was almost in front of you when you heard your name being called behind you by a familiar voice. 

Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, before you changed your destination towards the women's bathroom. Somewhere where you wouldn’t have to tell him to leave you alone. 

“I gotta use the restroom quickly. I’ll find you after,” you turned around briefly, catching Marcus Pike’s eyes for a fleeting moment before you practically ran down towards the restroom. 

This was fine. 

It would be totally fine. 

You were fine. 

Sitting on the toilet seat in the thankfully empty bathroom you massaged your temples, taking deep breaths. You had finally stopped shaking, your chest fully and slowly expanding as your lungs filled with much needed air. 

It shouldn’t have taken you by surprise that the meeting you had just attended was about the mission your boss had approached you about earlier this week. For years you had worked on getting information on Claudio Monero, the highest ranking mob boss of the Monero Mafia clan in the States. 

It was your first big case and you were proud of the progress you made not only in your division, but in working with many different crime divisions at the bureau. 

Claudio Monero also was involved in art crimes, which was the reason you had been working closely with Agent Marcus Pike, Senior Agent of the FBI art crime division. 

He was…. Honestly made straight out of a fairytale. He was funny, he was caring, he had your breakfast order down after three days of meeting for the first time and he was so fucking handsome in an almost annoying way. You sometimes asked yourself if he was real. 

You caught female (and male) Agents secretly swooning over him more than once in the break room. And you couldn’t blame them. 

You definitely had a crush on him, which also was your problem because… you had no fucking idea how to act on it. If you would act on it that was. 

Because the… maybe sad or let's say unique/different/annoying fact was, that at the tender age of 34 you had never been on a date. Or been kissed. Or… well you get the idea. 

And up until Marcus Pike strolled into your life with his smile and dimples and warm brown eyes, you never really thought about another man (or woman) like that. Like you wanted to know what made them laugh. How they spend their lazy Sunday mornings. How they tasted. 

But ever since then it was like a switch was flipped in your brain and you had no idea what to do. 

Was this how teenagers felt in puberty? Because your parents more than once told you that they felt like you skipped that part of growing up and went straight to adulthood at the tender age of thirteen.

Only one friend knew about your… lack of experience. You had tried to tell someone else once a long time ago, only to find out they had told everyone they knew about it, making you the weird one. Ever since then you lied about it to not feel like a weirdo. God you were a mess. 

Which brought you to your current problem. 

Claudio Monero would be in Washington next week for a charity gala and the FBI had managed to get two invitations. Two agents would pose as newly married couple Colin and Riley Rogers who had made a name for themselves selling forged art.

That should have been your first hint on who would go undercover with you. 

You volunteered to go undercover when you heard about it the first time and your boss had a long talk with you, because this would be your first time going undercover. 

She only did not mention everything that would be included on the mission. 

You probably should have read the fine print when she gave you the mission report.

There you would have read that not only are the two undercover Agents freshly married and very in love, no. That married couple also was open about visiting swinger parties, something Claudio Monero was heavily involved in and known for in the community. 

Which meant that the FBI Agents also would attend one of his swinger parties in two weeks that he had planned in DC. Of course without the intention of…. Partricipating in any kind of sexual relations (the FBI could not force their Agents to have sex for the sake of getting information, though they did not explicitly forbid it).

Had you known that, you probably hadn’t volunteered like the dumb idiot you were.

That was the first time today you almost had a nervous breakdown in the fully seated meeting room as your boss presented the plan for the undercover mission. 

But then you learned that the other Agent who would go undercover with you, the man you would have to pretend to be newly wedded and very much in love with, would be Agent Marcus Pike. 

You don’t remember much of the meeting after that, only his eyes on you, his stupid pretty face giving you an encouraging smile that slowly dropped the longer he looked at you, replaced by a frown and maybe even concern the longer you had been stuck in the meeting.

You bolted out of the door as soon as the meeting was finished. 

This… was a fucking mess. 

But you could do it. Right?

You knew that your co-workers were wondering about your private life after working together for almost ten years and never bringing anyone to any kind of Christmas party or get-together you had throughout the years. 

More than once had Agent Murphy tried to ask you out, only for you to shut him down firmly last year. He spread some rumours about you being uptight and difficult after but you couldn’t care less. 

Now you wondered if Marcus had heard those rumours too.

God, Marcus. 

You’d have to get close to him. Closer than you ever had been with anyone really. Or you could… quit. Move to another country and live on a tiny Greece island and make feta cheese until you die. 

There was a knock on the door and you jumped to your feet. 

“Sorry. I’ll be right out,” you called, releasing a sigh. 

“Are you okay?” It was Marcus. Of course it was. 

You looked at the mirror over the sink before you grabbed a paper towel and cleaned your mascara off your cheeks. You didn’t even remember that you cried? Your eyes were red though, nothing you could do about it now.

“Can you let me in?” he asked, his voice now quieter. 

You kept looking at yourself in the mirror. Calming yourself down. You had to get it over with. Even though living out your life out in this public restroom had a nice ring to it, you knew you couldn’t hide here forever. And Marcus was right outside.

Deep down you knew that you couldn’t ask for a better partner to go undercover than him. And you wouldn’t even have to play being in love with him.

Oh shit did you really just admit that to yourself? 

He said your name and you walked over to the door unlocking it. He slowly opened it, looking at you with those warm brown eyes. 

You took a deep breath. 

“I need to talk to you,” you said.

“If it’s about the mission. I can request someone else if you’re not comfortable with me going with you. You worked long on this case, you should be the one seeing it through,” he said.

Your heart warmed. Anyone else would insist on being on this mission to take the credit, but not him. You shook our head. 

“That’s… That’s not it. Can we… Can we go to my office? There’s something I have to tell you,” you said quietly. 

“Of course,” he nodded, giving you a small smile. 

“Good,” you nodded too. 

“I’ll meet you there in five minutes?” he asked. 

“Okay.”

His eyes lingered on you for another moment before he turned around and walked towards the elevator, probably to his office which was on another floor. 

You, in the meantime, went to your office to google how expensive living on a greece island was. 

He brought cake. And the good coffee from the first floor. 

Of course he did. 

He sat down across from you while you took a sip from your coffee. 

Apparently living in Greece wasn’t as cheap as you thought, so you decided the best plan was to come clean to Marcus about your… lack of experience of… literally anything that had to do with love. 

Easy peasy.

Even if he would judge you for it, you trusted him to keep your secret and not be mean about it. 

“You’re quiet,” he observed. 

“I’m thinking,” you replied, reaching for the cake. Lemon sponge. Another one of your favourites. 

“About what?”

“About my reaction earlier,” you took a bite. 

“Looked to me like you didn’t read the report before,” he teased and you rolled your eyes. 

“Guilty.”

“I get it. It’s your first undercover mission and of course it’s the one where you get to pretend to be into some kinky shit with a complete stranger. It’s not perfect.”

“That’s not it. I just… Fuck. Okay,” you took a deep breath and Marcus raised his left eyebrow, eying you warily. 

“I have never been in love. Ever. I don’t know if something’s wrong with me or if I’m just… oblivious if someone along the way has been interested in me in that way but…” you shook your head, "pretending to be freshly married and in love and in some kinky shit? Yeah I should have read the fucking report before,” you laughed nervously, taking another bigger bite of your cake to shut yourself up. 

You avoided Marcus' eyes, not really wanting to see his reaction.

“If you save you have never been in love before, you mean…” you looked at him and he tilted his head. 

“Yeah. I’ve never… kissed someone. Or… had sex. Which doesn’t mean I might not be into some kinky shit but I’ve never….”

He parted his lips in surprise while you shoved more of the cake into your mouth. You focused on chewing the cake while Marcus processed the news. 

“I have to admit you caught me off guard there. But.... It actually makes some sense? I really thought…” he huffed to himself and you grew even more nervous. He shook his head to himself, a smile playing on the corner of his lips before he looked at you. 

“You really thought what?” you asked. He seemed to be in thoughts before his face fell. 

“The undercover mission…” he said and you nodded. 

“Yeah. That’s why…. I have to ask a favour. A big one and you can say no and I will go to my boss tomorrow and request that she finds someone else but. I really want to see this fucker behind bars. And I want to be the one to do it. So… I need you to kiss me. Before we go undercover. There’s no way a newly married couple isn’t kissing or touching each other. And the swinger party… We won’t have sex. But we have to be comfortable with each other so… I am asking you to kiss me. Now,” you ended your rant. 

Marcus blinked his eyes at you, his face blank. 

“You want me to… kiss you?” he asked. You nodded. 

“Now?”

You nodded again.

“Because of the mission?” he asked. You hesitated. “Because if it’s just because of that my answer is no.”

“Why?” you breathed. 

A small smile came to his face, his eyes softening as he leaned closer. 

“Because it’s your first kiss. Ever. And maybe that’s my romantic heart but your first kiss should be with someone who means something to you. Someone you want to kiss and not someone you just… rip the bandaid off with so you can go on a mission.”

You took a deep breath, your thoughts running through your head. You knew that you would have never asked him to kiss you if you hadn’t been assigned this mission with him. Because he was your co-worker. Because you didn’t know if he’d be interested. Because deep down you wanted your first kiss to be with someone who meant as much to you as you did to them and you were scared to be rejected. 

“But if… You happen to have some other reason to ask me of all people, reasons that have not to do with the mission, then I want you to know that I have been thinking about kissing you for a while now,” he said, his eyes warm. 

What he was trying to say took a couple of seconds before your lips parted in surprise. 

“Really?” you gasped. 

He nodded, a smile on his lips. 

“Do you think I know the breakfast order of every one of my co-workers? Or how they drink their coffee? Or that they are the funniest and most beautiful person I might have ever met? I thought you weren’t interested,” he said. 

“I… I don’t know what to say. I didn’t think…” you laughed nervously. 

Marcus said your name, his hand reaching over your desk to put it on top of yours. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

You walked with him in comfortable silence, his hand holding yours as the sun set slowly. 

After your confession he had asked you to meet him in the parking garage after you both finished for the day. You followed him with your car, as you drove through the busy streets, surprised when he parked at the Lincoln Memorial. He waited for you at the exit after you parked, taking your hand to lead you through the evening crowd at the sight. 

Every time he looked at you from his side, you finally started to understand what people meant when they said that they felt like there were butterflies in their belly. You never experienced love, but if it was only half as what happened in your brain when you were looking at Marcus Pike you might finally know what all the fuss was about. 

He walked a little away from the crowds, towards the cherry blossom trees that were in full bloom, until he stopped and came to stand in front of you. He had switched his blazer for a very soft looking dark blue coat and you wondered if it was as soft as it looked. 

���Your first kiss isn’t something that should happen in a dark office between files and outdated stock art,” he said. Marcus took a step closer, and you sucked your bottom lip in as he let go of your hand. Slowly he rested his one hand on your waist, his other hand coming up, his fingers brushing over your cheek. 

Your breathing got faster as you tipped your head up, giving him a shy smile which he mirrored. 

“You brought me to the Lincoln Memorial at sunset to kiss me?” you whispered. 

He shook his head. 

“I brought you to the Lincoln Memorial at sunset because I want to give you the perfect first kiss,” he said and you smiled. 

“Perfect huh?” you teased, feeling brave as you put one of your hands on his chest. And yeah, the coat was as soft as you had imagined. 

“I mean it is your first. So it’s not like you would know if it wasn’t,” he shrugged with a teasing smile and you playfully slapped his chest before you both laughed. 

But then he put his hand on your cheek, pulling you closer as he leaned in, a soft smile still on his lips. 

“I like to make a fuss for the people that I lo…. Like,” he corrected himself at the last minute and your heart fluttered. You put your other arm around him, resting your hand on his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. 

“In all my life I haven’t thought about kissing someone before I met you Marcus,” you said quietly and he released a shuddering breath.

“Then I’m gonna kiss you now,” he said and you nodded. 

“On the lips,” he added and you chuckled before sighed as his lips pressed down on yours. 

[giggly-squiggily]

Hi Squiggly! It's the bish anon who requested the Kokushibo x reader for tickletober! I saw your mini-vacation post. I hope you're doing better...If you feel up to it, can you please consider writing a 'cuddle' fic with soft lee! Kokushibo x Ler! Reader? I'm sorry, the six-eyed terrorist makes me melt more than he should😭. Get well soon!

Koku my beloved! I've gotcha covered, anon! :D It's time we give our six-eyed demon some much needed love, shall we? :3

Cloud 9 (Taglist)

@cupcake-spice13, @thatbigbisexual29, @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022, @backy-san @t-wordiiish, @sarahmaystock5578

“Good evening.”

Kokushibou froze, the sheath holding his sword halfway towards its destined spot. Slowly, he peered at you, finding you standing by with a furious glare. “Good evening, (Y/N)...did you sleep well?”

“Not at all. I was too busy worrying about my husband. See- he hadn’t come to bed yesterday morning. Or the previous morning. Or the mornings before that.” You kept your voice low, but your temper sharpened each statement until you were practically biting them out. “From what I’ve gathered- he’s been out training from dawn till dusk.”

“That…certainly is an issue.” Kokushibou placed the sword against the wall, turning so he was facing you. An outsider would likely find this comical- the highest rank moon being scolded by a lesser demon. Of course- Kokushibou would have had their head for even thinking of you as anything less than his equal. Regardless of hierarchy and Lord Muzan’s blood; to Kokushibou, you were just as strong as he.

And in a game of wills; even stronger.

“Yes, it is. Tell me, my dear husband- have you already forgotten what you promised me?” You tried to keep your anger, but the longer you looked at him the more soft you felt. He was clearly ragged, the visible skin along his arms bruised and scratched. His clothes were dirty, and his hair was a wild mess of twigs and leaves. It was his own fault, sure, but that didn’t mean you were completely shut off from the visible aches.

“...That I’d return when the sun began to rise so I could rest and in turn spend time with you.” Guilt touched his eyes, and he bowed his head in apology. “Forgive me, (Y/N).”

Your anger melted away as you shook your head, walking to your husband. “I always do. But my forgiveness isn’t going to help you in the long run. If you overwork yourself, you’ll be sloppy. Isn’t that what you told me when you were training me the first time?” You reached out, tracing his face with your hands. “Come on- let’s get you out of these clothes and into something comfortable. I’ve already got a bath running.”

~~~

“I can do this myself, (Y/N)...”

Despite the words, Koku’s voice lacked any real argument. You sat behind him in the bath, combing through his mangled hair gently as you removed the various twigs within. It took some mild persuasion to get him to let you help.  “You’re my husband; don’t be so modest,” You teased, even though you knew why he hesitated on you seeing him nude. The water reflected the scars along his skin, old and fading- full of stories. You didn’t pry about them; instead choosing to wait for the day he was comfortable sharing.

“Nope. I haven’t seen you in days. This is our time.” You smiled as you pulled the last tangle free, watching his hair pool around him in soft waves. “Besides- for all that patience of yours, you’d give up not even halfway with your hair.”

“Hm.” Was all he said in response. You grinned as you picked up a washcloth. Victory was yours.

After he was bathed, dressed and clean, you pulled him along to your bed, pushing him gently into his side before sitting behind him once more, tugging at his robe. “Take this off- I have something for you.”

“Didn’t you just insist I put this on?” He asked as he did as told, shedding the upper half of the robe. “So indecisive.”

“Hush.” You pinched his bicep before reaching over, gathering up a bottle of oil. Daki snagged it on her last mission but hated the smell, giving it to you because “It seems like something you’d like.” Sure enough- you found it pleasant. “I’m gonna give you a massage.”

“Oh?” Kokushibou blinked, looking at the bottle curiously. “(Y/N)...You do know we regenerate. Muscle aches are no longer a thing for any of us.”

“There’s more to massage than just ache relief, love.” You told him after he investigated the bottle, returning it to you with suspicious eyes. “You’ll see what I mean.”

Kokushibou didn’t argue as you gathered his hair up, tossing it over his shoulder and out of the way. Nor did he complain when you pressed your now oil bearing hands into his upper back, gliding them across his skin. If anything- he seemed to have suddenly lost the will to fight, his tense shoulders easing almost immediately.

“Feels good?” You asked, grinning when he groaned in response. Another victory for you.

~~~

By the end of your massage, Kokushibou was puddy in your hands.

Lying beside you, he didn’t argue as you scooted closer, pressing his head against your chest as you stroked his hair, humming a song you remembered from your time being human. There was a twinge of sadness with it, but it was nothing compared to the sight you got to witness.

Kokushibou felt so sturdy yet so vulnerable in your arms. You didn’t say anything when tears dripped against your chest, only wiped them away as they came. Just how long had it been since someone held him? The thought made your soul hurt far worse.

As if sensing this, you felt your husband squeeze you tighter, his way to reassure you. He always seemed to know when your mind began to wonder. No words were exchanged, you just leaned down and kissed his crown.

Eventually, his tears dried and the ache you felt had eased. The two of you were just lying there, entrapped in each other's arms. You were happy- it felt so good to finally have him back with you.

At the same time however, all the petty revenge schemes you made when he was gone came to mind. You were no longer angry, yes- but that didn’t mean you were completely over it. Feeling sneaky, you let the hand stroking his hair drift down to his back, keeping your touch feather light as you traced along the back of his ribs.

“Hm!” Kokushibou made a noise resembling a muffled laugh. Then another. Eventually, you felt him shake against you, muffled giggles creeping out his throat as you carried on tracing his ribs up and down. He didn’t pull away and you didn’t press in- neither of you wanted to break the serenity of this moment. “(Y/N), pleahhahahahse.”

“This is what you get for overworking yourself.” You told him simply, kissing his crown once more as you danced your fingers over his lower back. Again- you earned a round of muffled giggles, the sound deep and rich that vibrated your bones in the best way. “I missed you- and I missed your laugh. Don’t leave me alone like that again.”

“I prohooohohmise! I prohooohohmise, my mohoohoohohon, now stahahhhap thathahhahat!” He laughed out, relaxing once more when you stopped, returning to his hair. “Heh…you are a devil, (Y/N).”

“I’m your devil.” You smiled, feeling him take your chin in his hands before his lips found yours, kissing you deeply.

“And I love you for that. I’ll…be more aware. Of my limits going forward.” He traced your face with his thumb, taking it in like it was the only sight in the world worth looking at. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

“It’s okay…as long as you come home, that’s what matters.” You pulled him into you, returning to your serene state. “I love you, my great swordsman.”

“As do I, my beloved moon.”

Thanks for reading!

[mondaychildsworld]

One Night Only - Din Djarin x Reader (ONESHOT)

Oneshot

Rating: E

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: You and Din get down and dirty in a fancy hotel room in Coruscant. That's literally it. Just pure smut.

Warnings: Fingering, oral (M receiving), unprotected P in V, light spanking, ass play, ejaculation inside of reader, smut and fluff, the helmet stays on

A/N: I don’t know Star Wars well enough to write a whole fic (yet, my bf has agreed to watch through all the movies with me). So until then, here’s a Din Djarin oneshot. Because he’s hot. I’m already blushing OK BYE. 

Also, I know I promised the next chapter of I Know The End to be up soon, but my brain is just fucking fried and I spent all weekend writing this instead. I need to catch up on life a bit because I've been writing like a mad woman these last couple of weeks so I'll have to give myself some grace and focus on me right now. I'll be back to I Know The End soon! ily 🧡

cute divider by @saradika 🤍

The night sky looked like deep blue velvet, scattered with small stars dancing above your heads. Even though it had been night for quite a while, the city wasn’t sleeping. There were lights everywhere you looked, bright neon colors flashing by, streets and buildings filled with life wherever your eyes landed. 

You glanced up to the man standing beside you. The colors and lights of Coruscant's night life reflected in his beskar armor. The thought of him made you shiver, you were equally shy around him as you were fascinated by him. Which made you nervous. 

As you walked the streets towards your destination you could see how his eyes roamed the streets, scanning your surroundings. Of course, you couldn’t really see his eyes. His face was always covered by the helmet, which he never took off. As much as you were curious of what he looked like under there, you were just as understanding with the fact that you’d never know. And you were okay with that. 

The way of the Mandalore went before anything else. So, the helmet stayed on. But it hadn’t stopped him from removing other pieces of his uniform before. You remember when you had lifted your dress up and graciously lowered yourself onto his beskar covered lap. He froze in his movements and asked you what you were doing. It didn’t take long for him to get the hint, turn the crest into autopilot and then let you bring him pleasure in the cockpit. You had to brush away the thought, for now, you were outside, with other people around. So you had to keep it all together. 

You knew he was on a mission. He had to hunt for his next bounty. But you had never visited Coruscant. When you asked to come with him, he immediately said no. When you said you didn’t want to join him on his hunt, just see the city, he hesitated. When you asked him to just spend a night with you outside of the ship, he agreed eventually. 

So you had spent the evening in this huge, gleaming city. You had seen the Skydome Botanical Gardens and walked by the incredibly tall 500 Republica building, with the mandalorian just a step or two behind you at all times. The things you’ve only read about in books or heard distant stories about became true when you explored the city. You grew up far, far away from here. So naturally Coruscant had felt like a fairytale in real life. 

But now, it was getting way too late. You were tired after the evening outside of the ship, and the mandalorian was guiding you to the inn where you had planned to sleep. That’s what you had said, that you would sleep there. None of you had spoken a word about the tension in the air between the two of you. The way you had tried to lock your eyes with his under the beskar helmet, and the way he held a hand at your lower back when guiding you through the city. You just acted as if it was just normal between the two of you. But the gloved hand on your thigh under the table while you were ordering something to drink in a too crowded bar told you otherwise. He tried to hide his small actions of affection towards you in public, but you knew. This wasn’t normal. The two of you weren’t used to this kind of relationship outside of the crest.

His ship had been a safe space. Where it didn’t matter what time or day of the week it was. You could be yourself, slowly but surely reveal more about you. He wasn’t the talkative type. You didn’t know much about each other, but you knew how to make each other feel good.

But this was different. You had roamed the streets of the city, and actually held a conversation beyond the usual talk, about whether or not the child had eaten, or where he’s heading for his next bounty. He had asked about the place where you grew up, and you told him your favorite color was orange, since you were a little child and watched the incredible sunsets on the planet you called home. You asked if his family also were Mandalorians. He explained to you about how the Mandalorians rescued him when he was orphaned, so he was raised with the Creed and didn’t remember much from before.

It was nice, sharing small bits and pieces about yourselves. Slowly unraveling each other's stories. It was clear he was not the nostalgic type, and you didn’t want to intrude, so you took it slow. 

But now you’re peeking through the curtains of the window in your room and can’t help yourself to wonder how you ended up like this, in a hotel room with him. If someone told you a year ago that this would happen, you’d just laugh in their faces. You glance down. Everyone down on the street looks so small. Like tiny ants making their way through the maze of Coruscant. 

The room was nice. Almost a little too nice. You had tried to protest when he handed the woman in the reception around 400 credits. But he had just squeezed your waist tightly against his beskar side, nodded to the woman over the desk when she wished you a lovely evening and guided you away towards the elevator. 

”You shouldn’t put that amount of money on a room.” You say, still watching the people on the ground. 

“It’s too…” You trail off as you feel gloved hands softly placed on your hips. You didn’t realize he was right behind you. “It’s too fancy for us.”

“You shouldn’t worry about that.” The modulated voice says. “It’s only for tonight.”

You close your eyes and lean back as his hands slowly explore your body. He starts to hitch your dress up slowly, over your knees, over your thighs, over your…

You quickly turn around to face him. He drops the dress and if you could see him now, he’d probably raise his eyebrows. Looking at you with an expression that said should I stop? but all you see is a dark visor. 

“No?” He asks after a couple of seconds of silence, his grip on your hips loosened. 

“Din.” You say, looking straight into the visor. You’re alone now, so you can say his name. He asked you to only call you Mando out there. It was too dangerous, he said, too many eyes and ears. It was bad enough a fully armored Mandalorian was walking down the streets. You could never know who was listening. He only told you his real name back in the crest. When the two of you were safely wrapped around sheets and darkness, after he’d made you climax twice in a row. No man had ever done that before.

You were so incredibly turned on by now, but you felt a bit ashamed about it. You felt just a tiny bit disgusted at the money he spent, which made it possible for him to have you gently pressed up against the window right now. 

“Yes.” You say. “Of course I want to, but you just put an insane amount of money on this room...”

He stays quiet, waiting for you to explain. All you hear is his low modulated breathing through the helmet. 

“...and on me.” You confess quietly.

He sighs and takes a step closer.

“You’re telling me I can’t spend my money on things I enjoy?”

“That’s not what I mea…” A whimper escapes from your lips and cuts you off. He squeezed your hip.

“That I can’t spend money on you?”

You just nod.

“Such a shame.” He says and his hand goes up to cup your cheek.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe. He’s so close, and you feel so stupid. So fucking dumb to bring this up. Who are you to complain? You asked to come here. He didn’t want to at first. But he agreed because you asked him to. You should be grateful. 

“Don’t.” He lifts your chin up a bit. “Don’t apologize.”

His thumb slowly caresses your lower lip. You shiver. You want to say you’re sorry for apologizing, but that would just be stupid, and maybe annoy him to the point that he would let go of you and leave the room. So you just nod. Silently agreeing.

You can feel your skin prickle when he pushes his thumb into your mouth. You gasp and part your lips for him.

“Good girl.”

Your knees go weak and you blush. There’s a warmth growing in between your legs. You’re in a really fancy room, standing incredibly close to Din, with his gloved thumb in your mouth. The feeling of guilt and shame is washed away by the fire burning inside of you. 

You slowly bite down on his glove, and he slides his hand out. You open your mouth a bit and let the glove drop to the floor.

You take a shaky, heavy breath as Din once again starts to hitch your dress up. His ungloved hand strokes your leg up, up, up until his fingers reach your hip. He follows the seam of your underwear down to your middle. He hovers just above your core for a few seconds. Teasing you.

A dissatisfied moan escapes from your lips when he doesn’t give you the friction you crave. You close your eyes when the teasing gets too much. 

“Look at me, pretty girl.” He whispers.

You open your eyes and stare straight into the visor. He rewards you by pushing your underwear aside. You feel him drag his fingers through your wet folds. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, so silently this time that you almost didn’t hear it. Like it was meant to only be a thought, but somehow the words escaped from his lips. So you try to ignore the compliment, even though it makes you shiver. 

He starts rubbing your clit in slow circles. You have to grab him by the shoulders when your knees go weak, you need something to hold on to. 

He’s in no rush. He’s taking his time with your sensitive bud, adjusting his movements by the expressions on your face. But you crave more. Your hands travel down his body and reach for the zipper of his flight suit.

He’s quick to notice, because his other hand suddenly and firmly grabs yours as they’re about to start working on the zipper. 

“You want more?” He asks you. You nod, not breaking the eye contact you just know you have, but can’t see. You wonder what the color of his eyes would be, that you could see, if he wasn’t sworn to the Creed. You respected it, but it did drive you mad in times like this. 

“I’ll give you more.”

He pushes a finger up inside you and sets a slow pace. You moan. His gloved hand still holds your wrists together and you have no way to keep yourself up other than to lean your back onto the window. 

He adds another finger and increases the rhythm. The stretch is bittersweet. It’s not painful, you’ve been too turned on for too long for it to hurt, but you’re never ready for the way he fills you up. 

You moan and the back of your head bumps into the window when you throw it back in pleasure. The nightlife of the city is still very active, and you hope that no one outside notices you squirming against a window with a Mandalorians hand between your thighs. 

Ironic, since he didn’t want to draw more attention to him than necessary. A Mandalorian fucking a girl against a window will most definitely create some interesting headlines. 

The build up of your climax increases at the same rate as his modulated breathing. You think he can sense it too, because when you’re close he pulls his fingers out, to your disappointment. 

“Not yet.” He says when you look at him with pleading eyes. 

“Alright.” You say with a heavy breath, drunk on pleasure. “Let go of me then.”

He lets go of your wrists. You immediately place them on his chest, slightly pushing him backwards towards the bed. The back of his knees hits the bed frame. He sits down and watches you as you start to undo his armor. 

You work your way downwards, starting with his shoulder plates. You fumble with the straps but once they’re off you start with the chest plate. Din just patiently sits there watching you work. When you had removed the chest plate you sank down to your knees and put it on the floor next to you. 

Now you’re sitting right in between his legs, nervously glancing up to the visor quickly before you start undoing the armor on his thighs. 

He grabs your arm with his ungloved hand before you can start. 

“You don’t have to.” He tells you, calmly. The hold he has on your arm tells you otherwise. He’s everything but calm. His grip is slightly shaking, and you can feel his pulse beating fast. 

“I want to.” You give him a reassuring smile and he lets you go. Once all of his armor is gone, you lean onto his lap and slowly drag the zipper of his flight suit all the way down. 

The exposed skin beneath the black fabric is smooth and tanned. Shining like gold in your eyes. Your hands travel down and reach into his pants. 

You hear him grunt as you pull his cock out. He’s already hard. You give him a few pumps up and down, and you expose his swollen tip. You lick your lips and slowly drag your mouth up against his length. He tries to still another grunt, but it’s clear he’s far beyond the point where he can keep it all together.

When you’re just about to put the tip of his length in your mouth you look up and fix your eyes to his. You know you do, because his breath hitch from the look of you on your knees, face just inches away from his erection, looking straight at him. 

His whole body jerks a bit when you slowly slide your mouth down his cock and you start sucking. You bob your head up and down and hear him pant above you.

“Maker.” He mumbles, his voice is strained.

“Mmhm.” You mumble in response while you keep bringing him pleasure with your mouth. 

His hands reach for the back of your head. His hand rests on your neck and he grabs your hair. He pulls it all together so it keeps strands from falling over your face. After a few minutes of you setting the pace he jerks his hips up just a tiny bit, as he pushes you down further with the help of his hands around your head. His length glides right down your throat, and your eyes water a bit. 

He mumbles something you don’t understand, probably in Mando’a. Even if you could understand, he’s too far down your throat for you to be able to answer. So you just moan in response when he thrusts into your mouth. 

He gives your mouth a few last thrusts before he lets you go and you pull back for air. He takes a few heavy breaths. 

“You’ ready?” He asks and you nod, still trying to catch your breath.

He leans forward just a bit, grabs you under your arms and drags you up to your feet. His movement is quick and simple. You see his exposed muscles flex when he lifts you up. 

“Take them off.” He commands and you know exactly what he’s talking about. You’ve been in this situation before, so there’s no question about what he wants. You grab the hem of your dress, lift it up, grab your underwear and slide them down. 

You climb onto his lap, where he sits on the edge of the mattress. He then snakes both of his arms around your back and you straddle him. He removes his other glove and finds his way under and up your dress. He places his palms on your buttcheeks and gently squeezes. You bite your lip and align your hips with his. 

With one arm wrapped around his neck you use your free hand to guide his cock to your entrance. He squeezes your ass harder and you slowly sink down. 

You both moan when you finally get what you crave. Instinctively, you want to kiss him. The realization that you can’t taste his lips makes you a bit sad. You gently place your lips on the cold beskar and start to move yourself up and down. 

The rhythm is yours to set, when you’re on top. It’s like a silent agreement between the two of you. It’s always clear who's in charge. And when you’re the one straddling him, you’re the one to set the rules. And he’s never been one to complain. 

After you’ve adjusted to having him inside you, filling you up all the way when you grind down on him you decide you need to feel him more. So you grab the collar of his flight suit and slide it off his back and down his arms. He lets go of you and helps you free him from his clothes. 

“Mesh’la, I’ve been waiting to remove the dress from you all day.” He says and pulls one of the straps down. “Yo-you’re beautiful like this.” 

He plays with the hem of the fabric. You blush. You’re not used to getting compliments from him. He’s called you sweet and pretty before. But never beautiful. That one is new. 

“What does that mean?” You ask and place your hands over his exposed chest. 

“What? You’re obviously wearing a special dress tonight, aren’t you?” He asks and pulls the other strap down. You shiver. If he continues like that he’ll soon expose your whole chest. And he was right about the dress. You had never worn it before around him. It was too nice to be worn on a regular day in the crest. But tonight was special. So of course you put on your best dress, and he noticed. But that’s not what you meant.

“No. You said something in Mando’a.”

“Ah, yeah.” He breathes and his hands travel to your back. He fiddles with the zipper. “Mesh’la.”

He slowly drags the zipper down in silence and the light blue fabric pools around your hips. Your breasts are exposed to the air and his gaze. Your nipples immediately turn hard. One of his hands briefly brushes over your breasts, gently cupping one of them and squeezes until you let a moan slip. 

“Mesh’la means beautiful.” He lets go of your breast and lifts you up from his lap. You stand in front of him as your dress falls to the floor. “It means that you’re beautiful.”

He grabs your hand and your heart beats fast. You don’t know what to say. You think he can sense that this conversation is a little too much for you right now, and not what you were expecting for tonight, so he just guides you onto the bed. 

“But you’re even more beautiful on all four.” He says and you can hear the change in his voice. When he explained to you the meaning behind the Mando’a word and when he slipped the dress off of your body his voice was tender, sweet, caring. Now, he speaks with the dark, lust filled tone you’re used to.

So you do as he says and climb onto all four. He gets up on his knees and shuffles closer to you. A second later you feel the tip of his cock pushing at your entrance and you let out a shaky breath.

You arch your back and wait for him to push his cock all the way inside of you. But when it doesn’t happen you’re wondering what he’s waiting for, but before you can turn your head around to look why he doesn’t move there’s a sudden, smacking sound. A second later there’s a bittersweet sting to the cheek of your ass. He spanked you, and you feel how instantly wet you get from it. 

The tension in the air vanishes, and is replaced by filthy lust. You’re so incredibly turned on by now that it’s almost painful when he doesn’t fuck you straight away, he literally has you on all fours, ready for him. 

“Please.” You beg. 

Smack. You gasp loudly. He hit your asscheek again, harder this time. 

“P-please.” You’re desperate. You like it, but you’re desperate for more. 

So you slowly lean back, pushing yourself towards him. You feel the head of his cock entering your core, and you hear a loud modulated sigh as you do. 

He grabs your hips and shoves you back, filling you up more than before. This time he’s the one to set the pace. And it’s not the same steady rhythm you went for before. This is persistent, rough and just… wonderful. This is what you were craving. 

“Oh stars!” You moan out loud. He fucks you relentlessly, just like he does when he has to blow off some steam after a particularly difficult hunt and you join him in his personal quarters. 

In there, you fumble in the dark and claw at metal walls. Here, the light is comfortably dim, warm and you clench your hands around soft, expensive sheets. 

His hands on your hips are warm. The skin to skin contact makes you tingle, everywhere he touches you. Maybe that’s how it is when you spend your time around someone who’s always covered up. So when you do feel him, it’s like your nerves are extra sensitive. 

His pace falters a bit and he gives you a few extra hard thrusts, grunting as he drills extra deep inside of you. 

“Mesh’la.” He says again. Your whole body shivers by his words, now that you understand them. “Will you let me?”

He stands still behind you, the only thing moving is one of his hands that travels from your hip down to your asscheek once again. But he doesn’t spank you, or stop there. His fingers trace your curves down to your middle and stop right above the hole he’s already filled up. His thumb caresses the tight ring of muscle, where no one’s ever been. 

You freeze for a couple of seconds while you consider it. No one’s ever fucked you there, and he knows that. He’s never been pushy about it, but the subject has been brought up before and you’ve always told him that you don’t do that. But now you’re intrigued and so horny at the same time. 

“I m-mean…” You stutter out. He’s waiting for your answer. “Only you… only your hands.”

“We don’t need to.” He reassures you. “I’m just asking.”

“It’s okay.” You breathe. You’re turned on by the situation, him touching and exploring you where no one else has ever been. 

“Let me know if it gets too much.” He says and adds some pressure with his thumb. 

A moan escapes your lips and you nod eagerly. He picks up the pace from before and pushes his thumb just a little harder when you relax a bit more. You feel him entering your other hole with his thumb while he keeps fucking the first one. 

It doesn’t hurt, but it burns. It’s a sweet burn, the satisfaction shoots up your spine and you groan. This new sensation drives you mad. It’s so incredibly filthy, the things that you’re doing right now. You’re glad you’re not standing by the window anymore. 

He keeps his thumb just like that, and doesn't push you too far. He doesn’t move it, just let it sit right there as you adjust to him. You feel your climax closing up on you as he grinds his cock into you with a perfect pace. 

”Din.” You moan and let a hand snake its way down to your slit. Your fingers reach your clit and you start pleasing yourself. 

Din moans under his helmet, the view of you touching yourself is almost too much. His hips stutter a bit and you know he’s insanely close too. 

“I’m gonna come, Din.” You moan his name. 

He grunts and removes his thumb from your ass and grabs both of your hips again. 

“Come for me, pretty girl.” His voice is shaky, barely holding it together. 

You clench around him and come undone, your whole body trembling like a leaf under him. He gives you a few last thrusts and you feel the soft warmth of his cum covering your insides. 

He collapses over you and you both crash into the mattress and fluffy pillows. He rolls off of you and lays on his back. You both breathe heavily as you come down from your climax high. 

After a minute or two he zips his flight suit back up and you scooch closer to him. You nuzzle your head into the crevice right below his helmet and sigh into his neck. 

You’re slowly brought back to reality when you remember that you have to go back to the crest when you wake up, and he has to start his next bounty hunt. The thought makes you heavy-hearted. You wish you could stay like this forever. 

Din rests one hand at the curve of your hip and waist. He turns his head to you. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks.

“Nothing.” You quickly answer. You glance up towards the ceiling and around the room. 

“I’m just happy I’ll get to spend the night here, with you.”

“Don’t get used to it.” He chuckles. “It’s only for tonight.”

“Yeah, only for tonight.” You say sleepily. He turns you over, pull the sheets over the two of you and put his arm safely around your waist. 

You lay like that for a while, Din keeping you close to him. You feel his cum slowly seep out from your core. You don’t even bother to get up to the equally fancy bathroom connected to your room to get you cleaned up. You want him close. You’ll deal with the mess tomorrow. Your eyelids get heavier by each minute and you’re soon drifting off to sleep. 

The last thing you hear is a mumble, so silent it’s almost a whisper. 

“Mesh’la.” He says, and pulls you even closer just as you fall asleep.

Here's a bonus for you if you've read this far:

[bonearenaofmyskull]

This will be my one and only post on the subject of post-s3 canon-compliant Hannigram...

...unless ofc the show gets renewed, which, at this point--it won't, lbr. Martha de Laurentiis was the show's champion and navigator of the rights issues, and she has literally died. If anyone else is championing it, I don't know about it. Maybe something can come through eventually as the new company leadership gets shit figured out, idk. But I'm not holding my breath.

That's the key point here which most of these asks don't seem to recognize: they want me to give an opinion on the state of the relationship, and whether or not Hannibal and Will can be together for a long term and maintain contentment in their relationship with each other: the Happy Ever After Question. But what these asks are most notably NOT doing--even though the askers always frame it as if they are--is asking me about the kind of storytelling would be likely in a continuation of the show: the Plot? What Plot? question. They want to have their plot cake and happily eat it ever after too. And it just doesn't work that way.

These are really very, very different questions. And what would happen if the show actually did come back has as much to do with what would have to happen to resurrect the show out of rights oblivion and then negotiate endless contracts AND how the creatives own lives and circumstances may have changed them and their points of view over the years, as well as the years themselves.

And because the show is very likely never coming back it's really a moot point now. Fantasize however you want. Write fic however you want. It's your damn story now, not the creatives. So in answer to the first, Happy Ever After Question, yeah, sure, why the fuck not. Let Hannigram have forever. But wait--you like plot with your porn? Then by all means give them some conflict. Tear them from the seams, their skin, their bones. Does that make you happy now?

But stop pulling down other people who are doing it in a different way than you're doing it, even if you can't understand it. Yeah, you know who you are....

As for the ~cANoN~ question, let's also be real for a second. If the show were renewed TODAY, it will have been more than a decade between seasons three and four, and Bryan Fuller has been pretty clear that Hannibal and Will are together during that time. So CAN they stay together for a period of years? Yeah, sure, why the fuck not. Obviously they HAVE.

But also--if the show were to come back, would they be destined for angsty shit and conflict and, yanno, PLOT? Again, obviously. It's a ridiculous notion that the show would continue without it. Flip side of that, though, is the equally ridiculous notion that seems to be floating around that if they can't be Disney princesses in their happily-ever-after together, then they can't be together at all, or at least, not for long. That's also absurd.

So let's touch base with what we know, and not what we each individually prefer.

Let's pretend--perhaps ambitiously--for a minute that if the show did ever come back it would be following the plan that we were left off with. It would stretch into 3 more seasons, with Cuban, Korean, and Cajun dishes iirc for episode titles. Bryan Fuller was pretty clear that season four would dive into an untapped portion of the books, revisit season one in a "really interesting way," and be pitched as Angel Heart meets Inception. Will might achieve happiness but not till the ending of the whole thing. That's what we know. Sorry I can't cite any of this; I haven't looked up a Hannibal article in half a decade.

So, leaving aside specifics and just getting to the question at hand, what we do know from season 1 is that Hannibal and Will were together. So, logically, they're probably together in any theoretical season 4. And OF COURSE they would be--they just spent all of S3 apart. You gotta vary this shit up. And they have to have internal and external conflicts, because writing 101. And the internal conflicts are meaningless--as would be all the rest of the preceding show--unless they're deeply and passionately invested in and love each other. That was the whole frickin' point of S3.

I don't honestly even understand how any of this is a question or a debate. Why are y'all even arguing in this the year of our lord almost 2024, and making me grumpy by sending me endless asks about stuff that's been answered for years and years. Why did I have to read with my OWN TWO EYES that someone who joined the fandom in 2016 (!!!) is so #FandomOld that people are afraid to argue with them????

...

So, y'all, this is all I'm willing to say about a potential continuation and ending of the show:

In a simple sense, the pattern the show was setting up is S1 & S4 Hannigram is together and solving crimes (at least in some weird Angel Heart way), S2 & S5 is semi-together, semi-apart Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane thing (with other stuff), and S3 & S6 on-the-run culminating in Something Big (probably at least partially apart). That doesn't mean this is the way the show would go, but it'd be very easy to write Clarice or an expy coming into the story to chase them down and end up mentored by them (either one or both) with this format.

As for the very final ending of the whole thing, the ending *I* would write may not be the same as what Bryan Fuller would write, but to me it seems both obvious where the show should go and that it would be completely and utterly satisfying to shippers and non-shippers alike. And I have run my theoretical ending by devout Hannigram shippers, and it met their approval. So if I can come up with something that both works for them and works for my sense of completionism in storytelling, then I'm sure Bryan Fuller could. He's way more practiced than me.

I have consistently said that I do not relate to the notion that it'd be better to have them together in one's imagination than it would be to actually see Mads and Hugh acting together in the ACTUAL SHOW, regardless of how that ends. Because here's the thing: my imagination is boundless and endless, and I can get an unlimited amount of Hannigram doing whatever the fuck I please whenever the fuck I please. More show, on the other hand, is rare as hen's teeth. I would take that miracle if I could get it.

The End.

[simpforrooster]

miss me baby.

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x F!reader

summary: a little snippet of your relationship with Maverick, based on the song miss me baby by Chris Cagle

a/n: phew! this one has been in my drafts for foreverrrrrr!!!! I hope y'all like it. sorry about all the time between fics! I am finally feeling more inspired to write and will have more coming your way!

Miss me baby When you hear our favorite song Miss me baby And when you start to sing along Think about all the times that danced in light to it all night long Oh, then miss me baby

Maverick used to hold you close to him in the kitchen, spinning you around to y'all's song. You still giggle when you think about Maverick also fan-girling over Shania Twain's You're Still the One.

He would play it before a deployment, you two wouldn't dance then. You'd just stand in each other's arms, not verbalizing your fears, just feeling them. He'd kiss the top of your head. Then your temple. Then your cheek. Finally, your lips.

"I'm coming back, love. I promise."

You knew he shouldn't make those promises, but they reassured you anyway.

He kept that promise every deployment.

You want me honey Like you did the night you told me that you loved me You couldn't wait anymore Left the keys in the door, took my hand, pulled my down on the kitchen floor Yeah we were that crazy Miss me baby

This was Maverick's favorite memory.

"I love you, Pete," your voice was almost a whisper. He almost missed it. You'd used his real name, not his callsign.

"What?" he'd asked, stupidly. He just wanted to make sure he hadn't dreamt it. Maverick was extremely concerned for the age gap. He knew age was only a number, but he always felt weird that he was who you chose. Especially when you had your pick of the younger aviators.

"You heard me, Mav," you grinned.

He hadn't dreamt it. You loved him.

"I love you," he said. Finally telling you, felt like a weight off his shoulders. He'd been wanting to tell you since day one, but was certain that would scare you off.

What you said next, knocked the breath out of him.

"I want you, Pete."

He couldn't get the door open fast enough, especially after you tangled your hands in his hair. You started kissing all over his neck, and he'd thought it was heaven.

Struggling to pull the keys from the lock, he gave up and left them dangling. You gripped the collar on his shirt and pulled him onto his kitchen floor.

It was perfect.

Pete had imagined this time over and over, and now that he finally had you, he couldn't stand it.

Miss me baby Til you can't take it no more Miss me baby Pack your bags and hit the door I'm a man, I was wrong, forgive me, come back home, I'll be waiting Right here waiting Miss me baby

Of course he fucked it up. It was destined to happen, the way he began to walk around you on eggshells. Mav wasn't used to relationships going this well. It freaked him out.

So, yeah.

He came home from a training day with the team to your bags packed at waiting by the door.

You came around the corner, shocked you hadn't beat him. Training usually lasted much longer. You though you had more time to get out.

"Y/n?" he croaked, his emotion apparent on his face.

"Mav.." you started.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I am so sorry." He stepped toward you, his hands out to cradle your head in his hands the way you liked. You stepped back in the knick of time, knowing if you hadn't, you'd be putty in his hands.

During a night out with the team, Mav had too much to drink. He let some things slip that he didn't mean to. Things that must've scared you off.

Mav took you in. Your body almost folding in on itself, holding a note. You were going to leave him and let him know in a note.

"I can't do it anymore, Pete," you whispered.

Mav knew what you couldn't do. The long deployments. The late night trainings. The way he flies his aircraft a little too recklessly.

"I can't loose you, y/n." He tried to reach out for you again, but you wouldn't let him. A beeping horn from outside pulled you both from this sad novel ending.

With a parting glance, you grabbed your bags, and hit the door.

And every time you feel his touch I pray to God it's not enough That I touched your heart so deep, girl, you can't shake me Cause I love you Yes I need you Miss me baby

It didn't take long for another man to offer you the comfort Mav wished he could. He just wished it wasn't Jake. He reminded Mav all the time that you were with him now. It shouldn't have been a shock. Jake was just as interested in you as Mav was.

One night in the Hard Deck, Mav managed to corner you in the back of the bar.

"How is it? Being with him? Because, Baby, it's hell for me," Mav's voice broke like it did the night you left him.

"Jake's great," you said, your eyes darting to the left, the tale tell sign of you lying.

"Come back to me, Baby," he pleaded, "I miss you so much."

Your e/c eyes searched his. What you were looking for, he wasn't sure. He prayed it was the words "yes" or "of course, Pete."

"Pete.." you started. Mav could feel the rejection from a mile away. Before hearing the words from your mouth, he turned. Walking away from you, his heart felt the heaviest it's ever felt.

He really lost you.

Mav stops, and turns. Your eyes had tears rimming them, and he was about to make it worse.

"I pray every night that his touch isn't good enough. That it leaves you longing for mine. Because I really miss you, baby."

masterlist

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wip Whenever

Been a while since i've had the spoons but @throughtrialbyfire tagged me this week so why not. We have some lineart, some wips and a bit of a fic i'm writing.

Art first.

And now from a yet unnamed fic that's just because I have Erra and Teldryn feels.

Erra's pov.

Erra nodded, stepping back through the door, and entering the warm yurt once again. He held his hand out, gesturing towards the centre of the yurt and the sitting circle he had hastily set up in the short time he was given to prepare. He knew it was not enough, he had substituted a lot of the more traditional items needed for such gatherings. He had not even managed to make that traditional tea from trama root to offer their guests and had only just managed to scrounge together a pipe to share. Honestly, he had focused so much on making Teldryn look the part of Khan that he’d neglected the rest of the ceremony.

Though when his eyes met with his, Erra felt his anxieties melt away. There he was, a vision in red shrouded by the trappings that had once belonged to Erra. Teldryn wore his robes well, even if they were a little ill-fitting in places, he was taller and thinner than him and the gold-lined sleeves that should have covered his hands barely hit his wrists but he wore it elegantly. Erra felt his heart flutter as he watched Teldryn exhale a cloud of blue-tinged smoke into the air. The robe was open along his chest, usually, a chitin or bonemold cuirass was worn underneath but Teldryn had complained earlier that day about his corprus scars giving him trouble and had opted to wear the loosest clothing he owned. He did not want him in pain whilst he was trying to learn how to be the leader that his aunt foresaw him to be.

He could see Teldryn was nervous, his foot tapping on the floor as he sat exactly where Erra had instructed at the head of the circle. He held his eye, bright crimson framed by dark lashes and even darker kohl. Teldryn furrowed his brow, his dark hair falling over his eyes once again. He could see him chewing at the inside of his cheek.

Teldryn looked the part but Erra knew he didn’t feel that way. It would be on him to guide him through this and any other duties that would be expected of him once the elders officially named him Nerevarine. Teldryn had already made up his mind and Erra noticed that the mer often got what he wanted. Maybe he would succeed in this too and have an exile as his right-hand— he knew he would never be able to go through the ceremony let alone the tests required just to regain his original position within their clan. It would all hinge on Teldryn's word, if he was to be named Nerevarine then his word would be law. It was just a matter of getting him through the Trial of Wisdom, but Erra thought, if anyone could succeed at this, it would be Teldryn.

He had known the mer was the real thing when he’d told him he’d survived the unsurvivable. Ancestors! He had done it twice now. Teldryn fit the regalia because it had always been destined for him. Erra knew Teldryn could do this, he just needed to be taught how.

Erra took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He spoke in Ashland, “You are now in the presence of Indoril Nerevar’s chosen Incarnate, Ensirhaddon-Sero Teldryn am'Urshilaku. State your business.”

Etana rolled his eye at him but straightened his posture as best as he could, “Kurapli has been wronged by a guest to our tribe. She wishes to seek council with the Incarnate and consult his wisdom as granted by Azura. She is accompanied by her sister, Zanummu who has witnessed the events.”

Teldryn stared at Erra, his eyes wide as he tried to make sense of what was being said. He tended to forget that Teldryn did not speak Ashland, and many of the Urshilaku did not speak Dunmeris. In this case, they were lucky, both women knew Dunmeris well enough for Teldryn to be able to communicate with them. He spoke Ashland out of habit when at home and this ritual was no exception. He would switch for Teldryn’s benefit.

“You may seek the counsel of the Incarnate,” Erra stated, gesturing to the collection of cushions opposite Teldryn, “Please be seated.”

Etana sighed and nodded for both women behind him to take their places before he took his place by the door, seating himself on one of the many chests that lined the yurt’s perimeter. Erra took his place to Teldryn’s immediate right, he could hear him quietly exhale in relief as their knees briefly touched. Teldryn leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“What do I do now?” He asked, his voice shaking a little as he spoke.

Erra leaned in, making sure he spoke just loud enough for Teldryn to hear, “Introduce yourself formerly as the Incarnate and take a puff from the pipe. Then immediately offer it to Kurapli who is sitting on the left. She will pass it to her right once she has finished speaking.”

Teldryn nodded, straightening himself and clearing his throat, “Um… You sit in the presence of the Incarnate, what do you ask of me?”

Teldryn spoke a little quickly, as if he was running a script through his head. Erra watched him take a long drag of his pipe, exhaling another cloud of smoke as he handed the pipe to Kurapli, his hand shaking a little. Erra thought he was doing well…he needed to tell him he was doing well. He leaned in, whispering in his ear.

“You are doing fine,” he whispered reassuringly, he wanted to reach for his arm, take his hand in his so that he could soothe Teldryn’s nerves. He knew he couldn’t, it would not end well for either of them if he did, especially when he was sitting opposite the woman he was once meant to marry.

[greenhikingboots]

Do you ever like someone else’s fanfiction so much, it makes you want to borrow the premise and write your own gender flipped version? I feel that way about a lot of ganymede_elegy/@cellsshapedlikestars’s fics. Here’s a little thing I jotted down after reading a fairytale ending. I’m not sure when, if ever, I’ll get around to continuing it. But, here, let me share it with you so its lack of ending can torture you the way it tortures me. 😘

The digital flyer was sent as a text, no further explanation included. Jon’s eyes flickered over the drawing — a woman with dark red hair and big blue eyes — then down to the cursive words below it. They spelled out a plea. It seemed the real life version of this woman was looking for a wedding date who was willing to pretend to be her boyfriend. Some PDA required, the flyer said. Specifics to be negotiated ahead of time. And then came the list of warnings. - The groom is my ex-boyfriend and his mother is the actual devil. - Other guests will include my crazy aunt and her creepy boyfriend. - It’s a destination wedding, so expect a 4-5 day time commitment. The very last section of the flyer said the woman would pay for all expenses and, If interested, contact the mutual friend who sent you this for further instructions. Jon double checked who that mutual friend was, half wondering if the flyer had found its way to him by mistake. But, no. Gilly had texted him, his screen told him. His best friend’s girlfriend. And she’d never texted him by mistake before, so — Curiosity peaked, Jon tossed aside the book he’d been reading and fired off a reply. Jon: Is this a joke? Some funny thing you stumbled across online? Instead of texting back, Gilly called right away. Speaking over the noise of the hair salon where she worked, she said, “I’ve got like, three minutes until my next appointment, so don’t interrupt, okay?” Jon kept quiet. “Okay?” Gilly repeated. “Wait? Are you there?” “That was me not interrupting,” Jon said. “Oh, gods. Okay, so her name is Sansa and she’s gorgeous and really, really nice, and she moved back to Winterfell about a year ago after living far away for like, I don’t know, seven or eight years maybe? She said she went to the private school here in town. What’s it called again? No, don’t answer that. Time crunch and all that. Anyway, the point is that you went to different schools so you don’t know each other, but you might know her brother? Wren Stark?” “You mean Robb Stark?” Jon had been a loner throughout most of his school years, but as a junior he’d let his favorite teacher, Mr. Rodrick, who was also the wrestling coach, talk him into joining an organized sport for the first time ever. Robb had been a senior and the team’s captain. Nice enough guy. Helped Jon feel included throughout the season without treating him like a totally charity case. They remained Facebook friends all these years later, though they never interacted. “Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe it was Robb,” Gilly answered. “Anyway, Sansa thought about making a profile on a dating app or whatever, but she was worried she’d attract some real weirdos. So she made that flyer instead and asked a few of her friends to share it — discreetly — with a few of their friends. And now, if you’re interested, I’m supposed to give her your number. And I very much want you to be interested, by the way, because you need to start dating again. Think of this as, like, a practice round or something. Oh, and you need a vacation too. Desperately. When was the last time you left the North?” “Uh… never?” Jon replied, trying not to laugh. This was ridiculous. Why did Gilly always think she could boss him around? Just because Sam let her get away with such antics didn’t mean he had to, right? “So I should give Sansa your number?” she asked. “You know her from the salon?” “Yeah. Did I not say that already? She has perfect hair, so all we ever do is trim it. But she always tips me really well.” Gilly let that comment simmer, and Jon, of course, understood why. Ever since he inherited a life-changing amount of money from his dad, he’d been weary of getting involved with a woman of little means. That made him feel like an asshole, but, hey, feeling like an asshole was better than having to wonder if the woman in question only liked him because of the size of his bank account. “I think she might be rich,” Gilly added after several beats of silence, like maybe she thought Jon was too dense to make the connection. “Yeah, but how rich?” he asked. Because he’d also been weary of getting involved with women who grew up in affluent families. He hadn’t grown up in one himself — his dad had been a distant figure in his life — and he knew he would never fit in in that world. What did he remember about the Starks? His mind raced in that direction before his question could be answered. Robb had worn nice clothes and driven an SUV that looked too expensive for a teenager to afford on their own. But if his parents were super rich, why hadn’t they sent all of their children to private school like Sansa? Wait, why had she not gone to Winterfell High? Why was she the exception to the rule within her family? Jon had more questions. “I’m hesitant to tell you everything I know,” Gilly said. “You have a tendency to draw too many conclusions from too little information. Incorrect conclusions, usually, I should remind you.” Jon scoffed. He wasn’t sure he agreed with that assessment, but whatever. He’d let it slide. “What’s this Sansa character do for a living?” he asked. Gilly squealed. “That means you’re considering it. I can tell. I’m so excited.” “What? No. I never said that.” “You didn’t have to. I can read you like a book.” Jon hesitated before admitting, in his own special way, that Gilly had the right of it. “I liked the part where she called her ex-boyfriend’s mom the actual devil. That amused me.” He took a beat to rub his hand over the back of his neck. “And it’s not as if I have anything better to do with my time,” he added. Too often lately, he’d been home, by himself, doing nothing. He was going stir crazy. He needed a change. A new person to meet. A new city to see. Something. Anything. “Oh, gods. Okay. This is thrilling,” Gilly said. “But my one o’clock just walked in, so I gotta go. I’ll send Sansa your number and tell her how wonderful you are. And then hopefully she’ll text you tonight. Don’t be weird if she does, okay? Promise me.” “I’m never weird, Gil.” She cackled, a weird way of expressing disagreement. “You’re frequently weird,” she said, “especially around girls. But I really do have to go now, okay? I’ll text her, she’ll text you. It’ll be great.” “Uh huh.” “Uh huh,” Gilly echoed teasingly. “Sam and I love you. Ba-bye.” She hung up the phone, and Jon returned his attention to the flyer in their text history. The thing looked like it could have been professionally made. Maybe Sansa worked in graphic design or marketing or something? Was that a lucrative industry? Jon wouldn’t know. He’d spent most of adulthood working at sporting goods stores, taking advantage of their employee discounts in order to outfit long backpacking trips around the North. He quit only recently, about four months after receiving his inheritance. Now he was unemployed, trying to figure out what he wanted to do with himself and the money that had opened up his options. Start his own business, maybe? But what kind of business, he had no idea. The screen on Jon’s phone turned black, catching his attention and drawing his thoughts back to the flyer he’d been studying. Rather than guess at Sansa’s career, he sent Gilly another text, wondering if she'd have time after her current appointment to reply to him. Jon: What’s Sansa do for a living? An hour passed without reply. With his patience dwindling, he realized he had other methods of research at his disposal. He logged on to Facebook, found Robb Stark, then searched his friends list for Sansa. Nothing. She either didn’t have a profile, or she had those extra security measures in place which prevented her from appearing in his search. Another twenty minutes passed and then, finally, Gilly sent him a text. This one was an embedded YouTube video, no further explanation included. Jon clicked play. He watched a door swing open to reveal a woman — not a drawing — with dark red hair and big blue eyes. “Hey, everybody,” she said. “Welcome back to my channel. Or, if you’re new here, welcome for the first time. I’m Sansa, and —” She paused to grin. It was a big, toothy thing Jon found he liked despite his reluctance to like anything to do with a YouTube star. “And today’s the big day,” she continued. “I’m so excited to walk you through the final reveal of our co-working space. Come on in.” She turned over her shoulder, beckoning the camera to follow her. She took a few steps forward, and then the video faded to a white, ever so briefly, before bubbly music and an animated introduction — similar style of the flyer — took over the screen. Jon watched all fifteen minutes of the interior design tour video without interruption, despite Sansa’s suggestion that he first go back and watch the other four in the so-called Headquarters Series. By the end of it, he’d learned that her YouTube channel focused on “rental -friendly interior designs and DIY projects on a budget.” Okay, that was sort of cool, he had to admit. He wasn’t the target audience, but he could appreciate it. And even better than that? By the end of the video, Jon had also learned that nearly four years ago, Sansa was let go from her dream job at a lifestyle magazine, which was “devastating at the time,” but, ultimately, put her on the path to where she was now — the leader of her own company, where she worked with five of her “most favorite people of all time.” Sansa made that happen for herself. And as far as Jon could tell, she hadn’t needed inherited money to do it. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from her. Anyway, yeah, she had a decent amount of money, it seemed. New money, like him. And Gilly was right, she was gorgeous. So even though he would have said no sixteen minutes ago, had anyone asked if he thought he could like a YouTuber who decorated in pastel color schemes, he was intrigued. What was the story behind Sansa, her ex-boyfriend, and his devilish mother? What made her aunt so crazy and her aunt’s boyfriend so creepy? What was the destination of this destination wedding? Jon hoped he would soon find out. 

[erisenyo]

hiiiii I wanna play!!

16. How important is it to you to stay true to the original creator's vision while writing fanfiction?

26. How do you approach plot twists or surprises in your fics?

31. Do you prefer writing from a single character's perspective or switching between different viewpoints?

You’re amazing as always <3

16. How important is it to you to stay true to the original creator's vision while writing fanfiction?

Eh, middling important? I'm comfortable to change details or do AUs, but it's one of those "know the rules so you can then break them" situation. Every change is going to have a ripple effect, so for it to still feel grounded in the source canon, those ripples need to make sense from that canon.

Characterization is huge for me, too. I always want the characterization to stay aligned to canon. Even if I'm showing growth, or bringing them to places they didn't go in canon, I want it to feel rooted in their canon selves. Okay, Sokka would never [X] in canon--so what would it take to get him there? If I don't see that chain of 'what it takes' then for me it feels like it's drifting into writing an OC who happens to have a similar background, which isn't my interest with fic.

26. How do you approach plot twists or surprises in your fics?

I tend to know where they're going to be in advance, a twist or major surprise is generally a big emotional moment, moment of revelation, moment when the reader's and/or the character's perspective is challenged and shifts. So those tend to be some of the first scenes that coalesce as an idea is coming together, and then things get planned from a pre-reveal and post-reveal format.

So to use a fluffy example from a oneshot (instead of the big reveal in one of my longfics lol) - one of the pivotal moments in (With Wonder and Care) Reach for Far-Flung Dreams is when Sokka is surprised by the destination of the road trip and what the big vacation actually is (NASA, for him, no Disney, for everyone else).

So I have that as this big emotional height--so why is it an emotional height? Because Sokka is surprised by it. Why is he surprised? Because he thought they were going somewhere else. Why did he think they were going somewhere else? Because the Gaang is specifically planning this as a treat for him and it's a big secret they're hoping to pull off.

And now I have the front half of my fic, basically - all the initial setup, the initial dynamics and interactions and necessary exposition, that are building to this reveal.

And then I think about post-reveal--what changes because of this surprise? Sokka realizes the day is about him, instead of him facilitating a day for everyone else. Sokka is emotionally overwhelmed, because he wasn't prepared to seem cool and unaffected. Sokka feels cared for, and has to just let that soak in.

And then that starts to give me the emotional beats I need to hit in later scenes--Sokka being emotionally overwhelmed, realizing the extent of their preparation for him, feeling loved and cared for.

(I can do a breakdown like this for one of the bigger fics like To Open Every Door, if anyone wants, btw)

31. Do you prefer writing from a single character's perspective or switching between different viewpoints?

It depends on the story! I generally like to write from the POV of whoever knows the least, so that the reader can learn alongside them in real-time. Or if a scene is supposed to do some big emotional work for a certain character, I'd rather have their POV for the scene vs them reflecting back on it after.

So in a one shot, that's usually one POV (though sometimes I purposefully structure in external POVs because I think it puts a fun perspective on events). For longer works it tends to be multiple POVs, especially something plottier. In To Open Every Door To Night, for example, I needed dual POVs because I needed the reader to have knowledge that Sokka didn't, which meant I needed Azula's scenes.

But my Zukki series was also a longer work, and there I stuck to one POV because things filtered through Zuko's limited perspective with him misreading everything but the reader able to correctly interpret everything he was missing regardless was the vibe I was going for.

So a lot of words to say basically , no preference, it's what carries the story best :)

From this Questions for Fic Writers game!

[catb-fics]

For the fic title thing:

- Is This How It Ends?

- Until We Meet Again

- Every Lie You Told Me

It’s so hard to come up with fic titles when I have no clue what the story’s about. It’s easier the other way around but I found these online and they sound interesting. 😁

Ahhh these are hard! Like you say it’s so difficult to dream up an idea just from a title. Thank you for sending these anyway it’s fun doing these ☺️

Is This How It Ends?

Okay so this would be an angsty break up fic. Van and the female oc/Y/N would be dating and it’s very intense but he’s always away on tour, forgets to call, he’s basically a shit bf even though they love each other so much. She knows she has to end it because she deserves better and they’re no good for each other. So they have one final emotional night together before they part ways forever *sob*

Until We Meet Again

I think this one would just be a tonne of fluff. I love the idea of a love that’s destined to be against all odds so I’d have Van and the girl meeting up in all sorts of unlikely places, really random like fate is bringing them together. They’d both probably be in a place in their life where they don’t want to get into a relationship but eventually they can’t deny their feelings for one another.

Every Lie You Told Me

This sounds like another angsty one. Let’s say Van’s a crap bf again (so sorry Van!) but he’s a real shit in this one, he cheats and lies and Y/N is comforted by Bondy every time he breaks her heart. Her and Bondy gradually get closer and the inevitable happens and they end up together… but not before a ridiculous amount of drama and tears. I hate this one but it was the only thing I could think of - plus someone asked me to write a cheating on Van with Bondy fic once! 😭

Send me a made up fic title

[up-sideand-down]

❓

WIP and Published Fics Ask Game (reblog to play and feel free to drop the emojis/questions in the ask box!)

❓ any WIP snippet you want!

I really haven't updated it in forever, but I do sometimes write snippets for my Bloodborne/FF7 crossover. Have a peek

Strife waved goodbye to his Messengers as he stepped off the bridge. Outside of it, Yharnam was unchanged. It was as if none of the beasts he’d killed...had even died. Deep down he knew that was part of the nightmare. They would always be here as long as he was. The Cleric Beast...it was gone though. perhaps it woke up wherever the real world was...or it was really dead. 

He wasn’t really up to him to speculate though. He was a Hunter, not a philosopher. They’d fall easily enough the second time. Besides he had a destination: the old aqueduct. If Gilbert’s words were true then there was a passage beneath this bridge that would let him enter the Cathedral Ward. He was willing to place his bets on Gilbert. A dying man had little to lie about. 

Strife peered over the edge of the bridge. It went down far, even farther than he needed it to. Who knew what sorts of beasts were down that deep. A sharp pain blossomed behind his eye. Images swam up in front of him. 

A man closing two doors out to a smoke filled city

“Stay out of here,” he said, “Hunters are no longer wanted here. Yharnam...belongs to the beasts now.” 

Strife stepped back. He was back on the Cathedral bridge, it was still the night of the hunt. 

But he knew that man. He’d seen him before. He’d...he’d hunted with him once. His name was...his name was...dammit, he couldn’t remember. He shook it off. It wasn’t important. He just had to get down to that aqueduct down there. 

He tucked the knowledge of lower Yharnam...of Old Yharnam in the back of his mind. 

There was music. A music box. It was softly playing just inside a window in a quiet little corner. Strife approached quietly. 

“Hello?” a voice said. It was soft and quiet: a little girl. He greeted her quietly. A friendly face here after all. 

“I don’t know your voice...but I know that smell,” the girl said, “Are you a Hunter?” 

“I am,” Strife said. 

“Then please...can you help me find my mum?” the girl’s voice broke a little at that, “she went out to find Dad. He’s a Hunter too. But she forgot the music box. We play it if Daddy forgets who we are.” The music stopped and a small box was pushed between the bars. Strife lifted the lid and listened to it for a moment.

“I’ll find her,” he said.

“Thank you,” the girl said, sounding relieved, “my Mum wears a red jeweled brooch. It’s so big and beautiful...you can’t miss it.” Strife doubted he would miss any sane person outside on a night like this, but he tucked the information away. 

“Good luck Mr. Hunter,” she said. Strife put the music box in his pocket. It was a soothing tune at least if he never found the woman.

[ireallyamabear]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 🤍

i've been sitting on this for a bit but today (andorversary) seems like the right day! I've been having fun with writing some Andor stuff but I'm not gonna pretend that i'm super prolific (there's a lot of small drafts and wips i have, though), so i'm only going to rec 3 of my stories. honestly, I never know if they're good or not, but (story time) I spent a long time in architecture school learning/working on how to critically see your own concepts and stepping back from a work, so i think i'm happy enough with all of them.

To prevent (electric) shock, do not remove cover (Cassian/Nemik Narkina 5 AU, almost 10k words (!!)) I adore AUs and i love the concept that no matter what Cassian does, he will always end on the Scarif beach. Although I did think a lot about whether a galaxy that ultimately will always make him end up there (the force???) and Cassian's personal agency are at odds with each other? In the end, I do think he will always choose that path. Anyway, i'm really proud of this one, and do hope that the idea of the AU comes through!

bury my people Look, i know i post about skemik here and skemik there but really the idea that they will be BURIED TOGETHER has such a hold on me. it kills me. This scene is canon, to me. They filmed it and just forgot to put it in. I also really liked writing from Vel's POV, her struggles feel so real to me. Destination (Cassian/Melshi after the prison break) oooh, not the first thing i wrote for Andor but the first one I finished (and the most popular of my stories ig). we all saw the scene where Cassian and Melshi ran over the dark landscape and had the same thought ... huddling for warmth. This was a kind of flash of brain activity for me, and i think it comes through! Also, Melshian ... ugh. I love when they laugh together, too!

Thanks for letting me talk about this stuff! I hope to wrangle all those half baked ideas i still have soon!

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Ok first things first your Kaiser comment is really hilarious what the hell was ness thinking with that cut?????

LMAOO you’ve got this!! But honestly reading work that’s written with motivation and care is soooo much better than reading something forced so don’t sweat it too much! I sure everyone understands that writing actually takes quite a bit of effort and time and thinking and that reading your quality work will be so worth it (insert the head nod emoji here because I can’t find it fast enough) nagi vibes are so real though but trust your five shot revolver volley (or something like that name) moment coming soon

Yeahhhh idk the only conflict that really comes to mind is “aw shit I’m gonna be fired”/“im not paid enough for this shit” LMAOOO I guess that’s also the reason why a lot of fics I’ve seen are also set outside of the main events of bllk! Like usually when they’re already pro etc or for some characters who have enough backstory details about their stories before bllk then it’s set pre-bllk!

Hair down zantetsu>>>> I was actually shocked when I saw that scene of him in the movie like zantetsu pls let down your hair and take off your goggles we know you don’t need them….

The way you just so accurately described the entire Ubers dynamic LMAOO I also could not care less about sendou soooooo but it’s giving me the same vibes as the colored scene of them all helping Barou dye his hair I love the Ubers dynamic…I bet it working out gives aiku such an ego boost and he’s probably all like “see I’m right you all just don’t get bitches” completely forgetting that Niko is 15 and these are also soccer losers

Nooo because the few times I have to trek into Reddit territory to find a chapter link or something I see the dudebros collectively hating on him or using the fact that his parents trained him since he was young to try and minimize/discredit his “feats” (as they say in dudebro land)

White butterfly is just tear inducing LMAO that scene has me in my feels like bro…..the first thing he does after he goes pro and makes money is builds his childhood friend/love’s dream house SHSGSHS goodbye.

PLS you’re always on the grind omg that’s actually crazy LOL but no I think the whole fandom needs to be wiped and then shown seabird so they can ingrain this version of saw into their brains…maybe that’s the strat…right as s2 comes out we blast fwtkac bfb and lowk just your masterlist so people go “OHHHH that’s how they are” and the fanon version establishes itself as a much more accurate (imo) version that it otherwise would’ve…

AIKU WINGMEN SERIES GUYS WE WON based on what we’ve talked about this already sounds like sm fun to read I will most definitely be at the launch party…also SAE that’s crazy I lowk forgot they were on the same team for u20 for a sec but now that I realize it that makes sense LMAO

LMAOOO you’d have your own fwtkac moment where you get shown on the jumbotron and then have edits made of you and I’ll be scrolling through tiktok like guys that’s Mira…I know her lore..!!!

NOO YOU DESERVE IT honestly your writing output is some of the best I’ve seen in a while so idk what you’re talking about LOL Curious to see what even you decide on though!! I’ve seen some cute ones with like themed codes and whatnot from other writers before too so I bet your take will be fire!

- Karasu anon

no because ACTUALLY like bro was clearly not destined to be a barber 😭 honestly kaiser’s hair pre-cut when it was all shaggy and gold was rlly gorgeous i would like him more if he kept it like that or if he just tied it back or smth ☝🏻 but instead we got…wtvr the fuck he has going on 😰

HEHE no because i even have in my rules that i’ll probably take a while to respond and might ignore requests so people know what they’re getting into to but that doesn’t stop me from feeling bad yk?? sadly i am a chronic people pleaser 😓 but anyways YESS super goal coming up soon 🤭 jkjk i think the next ones are going to be short and simple because of the nature of the request so don’t expect any long ones for a bit!! but then again yk me so we’ll see (although tbf most of my requests have stayed generally within projected wc ranges the only ones to escape containment were seabird and the third part of fwtkac)

literally like it would def be a lot more comedic than anything but i save my comedy for the one shots longfics are angst ONLY /j also wait idk if you saw the most recent jjk leaks but i think i canonically killed off more characters in pomegranate ink than gege did in jjk which is CRAZYYY like i thought i was being fairly lenient 😭

hair down zantetsu is literally every shoujo male lead i need a fic where reo gives him a makeover or smth so he can truly shine LMAOAO i just know reo would have sm fun w that too

aiku’s like “all in a day’s work 🙂‍↕️😌” once barou gets a gf and then he thinks being a wingman is so fun that he tries to set up his other teammates w girls but lorenzo scares all of them away, aryu is uhh aryu and sendou is doing fine on his own so his only option is niko but niko is so introverted that he HATES “big bro aiku” helping out LMAOAOA like aiku becomes one of these rlly pushy uncles who goes up to every girl and is like “look at my nephew isn’t he so handsome” meanwhile niko is DYING of embarrassment…eventually mommy barou has to step in and tell aiku to leave niko alone 😭

on the one hand i get it because hiori is sometimes very overhyped in the sense that compared to charles and sae (and honestly even reo) he’s not the BEST midfielder oat in bllk but charles is considered a prodigy by even loki, sae is a ng11, and reo is canonically perfect so that’s not even saying much + he’s only really been active/awakened since the ubers game so with time he’ll probably improve!! he’s another one of those characters where there’s very few people who see the medium and don’t glaze him but don’t hate him either ykwim

THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYINGGG IT’S DISGUSTING like wdym you finally became rich and famous and instead of reaping the benefits you move back to a random town in the middle of nowhere and build a house for a girl who doesn’t even live there anymore just because you loved her so much?? in a way i think that even if reader had moved on or never came back just having that house was how hiori affirmed to the world that he loved her if that makes sense…like it was as much a confession to her as it was him making it clear to everyone that he wouldn’t ever be taken from her again if she still wanted him 😭 bitches when reader wanted to be a bird so she could fly everywhere but instead of being a bird with her and staying by her side like he wanted to hiori realized she needed a field (a home) to come back to so he just settled down and waited for her until she did because he loved her enough not to find her when he didn’t know if she wanted to be found 😭😓😫 i’m bitches fr

LMAAOAOO the grind is too real but omg i will be so happy if bfb freaky friday fwtkac loserboys karasu and otoya become fanon even though they’re already being written mostly as fboys in other works 😩 like okay ykw i even get otoya but wdym karasu is a player 😕 my man would NEVER have a one night stand he’s way too sensitive and gentle for that

AIKU WINGMAN SERIES INDEED OMG i’m so hype the for the barou and otoya versions especially because i already have ideas for them…i think the sae one is just going to be aiku being like “bro you’re in love with her” and sae’s like “no 😒” and it just goes on and on until sae is like “oh shit i AM in love with her” LMAOAO still pondering what i’ll do for karasu yukimiya and nagi but trust it will happen and it’ll be funny

LMAOOO MIRA EDITS i’ll be in my fwtkac era but without the crow 🙁 no soccer player irl could compare to karasu 💔 it’ll just be five ways to kill a soccer player which is nowhere near as fun and exciting…oh well we sacrifice what we must

AHAHA THANK YOU SMMM i meant more that i only post fics 5% of the time the rest is me dropping random thoughts answering asks chatting w people and reblogging fanart so people who follow me off of my fics are probably like WTF KSJSKKS okay wait hear me out a bird theme could lowkey go crazy…considering i am a #birdstan…anyways we’ll see there’s still a bit until I reach that point!! although ngl it might be faster if i actually post requests 😭

[settsplitt]

hello! i read your fic "afternoon of memory (just fade away)" and i really liked it. the angst of yukierre is something that continually draws me to it (maybe i'm just processing my own bs, haha) and even though you personally don't seem to be happy about the end result, i quite like how you wrote it. it's the simultaneous pseudo-apathetic pushing and desperate pulling in the angst of yukierre that i really love, clinging onto what was and the idea of what could be while at the very same time not giving it real hope for fear of it being crushed. like it's easier to give up and let go than to try, or at least that's how i tend to interpret it. the idea that it was always destined to fall even though there was no effort to hold on (which is maybe the wrong wording but i hope you get what i mean). anyways i liked your fic, and i think the writing style works well for the subject matter. i almost want to say more but this is getting long so i'll just wrap it up here ^^' thank you for sharing your art with the world, even if you may not find it up to par. i appreciate your time and effort, hopefully this wasn't too annoying to receive. regardless i hope you have a good day or night!

anon I want you to know I have been treasuring this in my inbox for days. I have been holding the message in my hands and rocking back and forth and pressing it close to my heart. This means so much and you are wonderful and aaaaaaaaah I hope you have the best day and the best night and the best everything. Much love ♥️♥️😸😸

[4ragon]

hiii i'm sorry if you're not the right person to ask! i just really respect your writing i thought i'd give it a shot. do u have advice/a certain method for going back to old/shelved projects? every time i try i can't get myself to make progress at all, since the initial mindset is long gone. i'm curious how others do it especially with longfic type things!!

No need to apologize at all! Not sure I'm the right person either, but I'm always happy to try anyway! Especially since I'm trying to do this on several projects right now haha.

Let's see...I guess there are several ways you can go about this, though it's going to depend on the kind of project. For example, one of the main things I want to return to is a fan fic that's already I'd say about 2/3 published! This means that I can't go back and start editing it from the beginning, I have to just try to build off of the scaffolding I already have.

So in that case, my plan is to just reread what I already have out there and pretend like I'm reading it for the first time. Some of it is just a refresher (who is where, what conversations already happened, what themes have I already put out there), some of it is just trying to get myself back into the mindset. What was I trying to say? What makes sense to happen next? Where was I going?

And then, once I have all of it fresh in my mind, my plan is to figure out an actual outline. Not, like, a real outline necessarily, I am the most unorganized person on the planet, but at least figure out like bullet points in your brain. This is how I want it to end, so how many events need to happen to get there? Just having those tangible goals of where you need to write to can be very helpful if you're used to meandering to the finish line.

That being said, I think another thing you need to ask yourself is why you stopped in the first place. Did you just fall out of love with the idea? Did you just lose steam? Or maybe you've gotten to a scene that you find particularly frustrating to write. Or heck, maybe your original plan no longer makes sense for the fic you've already written.

At that point, maybe you could just skip right to something you haven't gotten to that makes you excited. Get to the part where they kiss for the first time. Get to the scene where the long lost brothers reunite. Write the flowy description of a scene you see clearly in your head. And once you've at least got those juices flowing, you can go back and see what you need to do to get there. Sometimes that's just abandoning a scene you love (and saving the text somewhere else in case you can make it relevant later). Sometimes that's just changing the dialogue. But whatever it is, once you have a specific destination, the journey can get a lot easier.

Also, and this one is just for fan fics, but maybe just go back and consume a little bit of the media you're writing about. See what inspired you in the first place! And if it's not inspiring you in the exact same way, how can you change what you're writing into something new and better?

AND of course this is my very last suggestion, which always helps me: Stop Worrying About Being Good. I know I personally will often hold myself to an impossible standard, and sometimes that just completely stops any forward momentum. No one is grading you. No one is going to judge you if you just need some light filler to get from point A to point B. If you need to sit on a scene and rewrite it once or twice, that's fine, but at some point, you have to sit down, tell yourself "this is as good as it needs to be" and just hit enter and close the computer.

I dunno, hope any of that was helpful, I definitely wrote way more than I intended on this. This is the first time in a while I've wanted to go back to something I've set down for almost a year, so I'm really hoping I can take my own advice here.

Either way, good luck! I believe in you.