#the rest are all rain world au things :D

[lamboficarus]

did a bunch of doodles watching an artists stream today :)

[blackhairedjjun]

it's you that i'd lie with. - c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn reader | genre / tropes: angst, apocalypse au (no literally), the end of the world but make it slice of life, non-idol au, best friends to lovers, last-minute getting together (and i really mean last minute!!) | word count: 923 | warnings: implied death, natural disasters, mentioned existential crises, kissing, brief food mentions

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - LAST: believing it to be their last chance to confess their feelings for the receiver, the sender tells them that they love them. (requested by @beomnoullitheorem - "I don't mind any kind of ending as I love both happy and sad endings, so I'm leaving it all upto you and I'm gonna love any of your work be it having any kind of ending!")

author's notes: hi noulli! unfortunately i don't have a copy of the stuff we talked abt for this prompt since i answered your asks privately, but i tried to remember what we said as best as i can! also i was in a very "wow i wanna kiss him sooooo bad" mood when i wrote this so uh. yeah sldkfskldjf. also the title is from "as the world caves in" by matt maltese!

“do you really think the world will end today, y/n? like what the reporters said?”

you cast a glance up at the cloudless sky, its color a gradient of deep blue to pale yellow. meteor showers fall constantly like rain made of light. “well... if it isn’t ending, it’s putting on a hell of a show.”

yeonjun lets out a soft giggle and pulls you closer in his arms. you sigh happily and rest your head on his chest; his heartbeat is a bit faster than usual, though it is his last day on earth after all. you’ve always been touchy-feely with your best friend, but you’ve never been this close.

as soon as the news reports announced the end of the world a few weeks ago, the two of you instantly knew that you wanted to spend your last day here, at the open-air rooftop restaurant where you first met. you spent the next few weeks saying goodbye to your friends and family, checking a few things off your bucket list, and just... making peace with your life. today you and yeonjun claimed a table overlooking the deserted city below, though there wasn’t any competition anyway 一 the cooks and waitstaff had abandoned the place to spend their last day with their loved ones.

you lift your head up from yeonjun’s embrace to take in one last look at the sky, beautiful yet terrifying, a canvas of light and shadow. you wonder what everyone else is doing: maybe they too are looking at the sky, or maybe they can’t see it at all from the makeshift underground shelters they’ve gone to. maybe some are watching it alone, maybe others are watching it with a loved one, just like you.

just then you feel soft lips on the crown of your head, and you look up to see yeonjun pulling away from his brief kiss. he’s gazing at you with those warm brown eyes, and you can’t help the heat spreading across your cheeks.

“you’re quiet,” he says.

“so are you, jjunie.”

“it’s just... a lot.”

“i know.”

perhaps your brain is making you see things because this is the last time you’ll ever see him, but this is the most beautiful yeonjun has ever looked. strands of black hair fall over his eyes, and as you lift a hand to brush them aside you feel an ache in your heart.

“i was supposed to take you here again for your birthday, y’know,” he says with a small smile.

“really? you didn’t think i’d be sick of it here?”

“nah, you love it here. you’re always ordering their cheesecake.”

you laugh. “i mean, no one makes it like they d一”

just then the earth begins to shake and the whole building sways. yeonjun grabs onto you as you’re both thrown onto the ground. you bury your head in your friend’s chest and grip onto his hoodie; his own grip around your waist tightens and he curls around you. the table topples and nearly lands on your head, only for yeonjun to grab you and roll you away from the spot.

the ground beneath you rumbles, and you can hear the crashing of plates and bottles from the restaurant kitchen. tables and chairs are knocked over. you screw your eyes shut, yet the world doesn’t stop spinning...

and then an alarm starts blaring in the distance, and it’s over as soon as it started. you remain lying on the floor clinging to yeonjun, your knuckles trembling from your grip on his hoodie. he doesn’t move either, holding on to you so tightly as if you might slip away if he let go.

then you feel it again 一 that feather-light kiss on the crown of your head, lingering for longer this time. then another one, further down on your forehead. yeonjun pulls away to look at you, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, and the ache in your heart gnaws at you even more.

“y/n, i...”

words leave him and the next thing you know, his lips are on yours. he tastes as sweet as you’ve imagined, and you wrap your arms around him to kiss him deeper. the world is spinning again, but for a completely different reason 一 with your body flush against his and his mouth moving roughly against yours, you feel as if every piece of you has been set alight.

you let out a sigh against his lips as he breaks away. he pants slightly, still holding you close, his eyes wide. 

“i love you.”

yeonjun is still breathless when he says it. had he said it on any other day, your mind would be full of questions: how long? since when? why are you telling me only now? what happens to us next?

but you don’t have time for questions. instead you lean towards him, meeting those beautiful eyes of his, and whisper, “i love you too.”

you leave a gentle peck on his lips, then another, then it’s his turn to kiss you back. next thing you know his hands are tangled in your hair and you melt into him completely, this new kiss slower than the first yet more desperate. in your last moments you’re going to love him the way you should have when you still had time.

neither of you notice the way the sky darkens to a complete black. the ground shakes again and you hold on to each other.

his warmth is the last thing you ever feel.

[mmk-art]

soooo Anemo boys bully au

Let’s say you favor one more, this case Kazuha cause he’s my favorite. You give him more attention, more physical attention, more head pats, more good jobs than anyone else in the group. What would happen? Also, I will rain terror on the world if you don’t give me more of your Kazuha drawings (This is a joke, a friend threat don’t take seriously plz)

Drank water today? Got enough sleep? Had any food? If there is any no’s to these things I would like you to make sure you are eating, drinking, or sleeping. Have a good time zone!

You scared me so I did this chibi Kazuha D: please don't hurt me!!

Just kiddingggg, I made it because I felt like doing it. it's just a little sketchy Kazuha, and to be honest, everytime I see it, more uglier it get - if you are an artist surely you get me -. But I did it just for you. Hope you like ittt <333

And yes! Yes! And yes! I did all that, hope you take care of yourself too!

Now with your question... Let's say it depend...

If it's something more casual, they will notice, but they will think that you are finally reciprocating their love, just that for now it's only with Kazuha, but surely with time it will be with everyone else, or at least they hope so.

If it's like... super obvious, like, you always ask Kazuha to go with you to places, give him more headpats, laugh more to his jokes, and even sometimes they gift you something that actually you like and while thanking them you are staring - just - to him.

Of course they will notice, and of course they will not like that at all.

Kazuha have mixed feelings, because he is so happy that the person he is in love with is showing him more affection than the rest, he would even go to his home - when he is not in yours - and start to roll in his bed while hugging his pillow like a crazy fangirl.

But, he would try to convince you to love the rest too, because they are a team, you know? In this AU I like to imagine that the anemo boys are a group of friends that always work together, always. So it's just normal that he want you to love them all, even if deeply in his heart he hope that he will be always your favorite.

And to be honest, they really are a team. And Kazuha really want you to be all lovey-dovey with all of them. But if you show him more affection, he will start to act like if he is really your boyfriend. So if sometime the group have a little argument, he would say that HE is your boyfriend, and that you love HIM and that is so obvious that HE is YOUR favorite.

And the little argument will end in a fight. Sigh.

Now is your turn to heal their wounds and clean the blood from the nose of one or two of the boys while scolding them like if you were a parent scolding their sons because they have behave bad.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

seesaw (demo ver), m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Just you and Min Yoongi. Sitting in a car. Rain crashes down. The dark sky turns darker, giving way to the night. He asks you to listen to his sound.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends-with-benefits; mild angst; using sex as a coping mechanism; mentions of past D/s smut (sub!Yoongi including forced orgasms, anal vibrator usage, choking); fluff honestly romantic ew; smut (fem reader, car sex in a rest stop parking lot, biting / scratching / marking teeny bit of Yoongi ass appreciation, nipple play, handjob, fingering, cumming onto your stomach, cum eating, f-receiving oral); non-idol!AU - long-black-haired, music producer!Yoongi

highly recommended to listen to seesaw (demo ver) while reading this, it makes everything so much better.

-

Rain.

“It’s really coming down, huh.”

“Yeah.”

A bolt of white lightning cracked through the black sky, eating through the darkness, only to dissipate into the clap of thunder. It wasn’t fully dark yet but it seemed like it was with the heavy clouds swollen with nature’s tears. A torrential downpour, soaking anything and anyone underneath.

“Maybe you should pull over for a bit.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You can barely see. It’s just a flash thunderstorm. Couple minutes and it’ll die down.”

“Hah…”

He was reluctant to do so. You could tell by the furrow of his brow and the small sigh, but he relented, pulling into a rest stop. Filled up on gas, frowning under the awing with his hands shoved in his olive parka pockets. You caught his eye and he smiled a little, the curved line blurred through the glass covered in droplets.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

He raised an eyebrow.

You extended the muscle as far out as it would go, practically to the bottom of your chin.

Min Yoongi narrowed his eyes, unamused.

The pump clicked, indicating it was done. He turned and put it back. Pressed the final buttons to complete the transaction. Screwed the tank cap on and closed the cover, wringing his hand and flicking off the excess water. Yanked the car door open and scattered rain over his seat, falling down and snapping the door closed, one word under his breath.

“Ass.”

“I like yours and you like mine. Equivalent exchange.”

“Ready to go?” he asked, ignoring your true statement.

“Just pull into the lot and we’ll wait a little.”

He did so, peering at the closed doors and dark lights of the diner next to the gas station. Clearly nobody there. The start of a zombie film, probably, except there were other cars getting gas and someone attempting to change their tire in the rain.

“Man, I would wait…” you muttered.

Yoongi shrugged. “Maybe they’re in a hurry.”

The sound of rain, falling down, down, down. It created a drumming rhythm with the thick, fat drops hitting the car roof and across the windows, blurring everything. Yoongi reached over and turned the key, turning the car off instead of leaving it on idle. It wasn’t too cold.

Just a lot of water.

Yoongi frowned, his long black hair looking damp and hanging by his eyes, staring up at the black clouds.

“Doesn’t look like it’s gonna let up.”

“Water doesn’t boil any faster if you’re staring at it.”

He turned his head to face you but you had already leaned in close, anticipating his annoyed expression. Flashed a smile. Gave him a quick kiss and Yoongi kept his face neutral, struggling not to react.

You gazed into his dark brown eyes, not saying anything.

The rain fell down, down, showering the world around you, and you listened to his breath. Slow, steady, his pink lips parted. Admiring all of him, every curve, line, even the stray strands of black hair slipping down, creating shadows over his cheekbones. The shape of his face, eyes, lips. The way the dark world made his face seem like it was glowing, the contrast making his fair skin stand out.

“At this rate, we don’t need to go see the ocean. It’s being dumped down on our heads.”

Yoongi half-smiled. “It’s pretty much the same thing, mhm.”

You wondered if he was afraid.

Searched his eyes and there was a distance there. Hah. On one hand, unsurprised. On another, slightly annoyed. You backed up, not wanting him to notice your observations. He shifted. You felt it in the air, his unease, his silence, his inward struggle, but you pretended not to notice, settling back into the passenger’s seat and watching the rain, leaving a small smile on your lips.

Rain or shine, push or pull, up or down, anything or everything.

You couldn’t wait forever, but you could wait a little longer.

“I…”

You waited.

“Do you want to hear the latest track I composed? It’s only a rough draft. No lyrics yet.”

I’m sorry, he was going to say. But you were tired of hearing I’m sorry and Yoongi knew that. He was tired of saying it. But saying I’m sorry was a lot easier than saying I’ve figured out how to patch my torn-up heart.

You turned back to him, nodding.

“I want to listen to it.”

He looked back, looking for the lie, and you held his gaze, letting him see there was none. And now you could see it yourself, see that this wasn’t any old track that Yoongi wanted you to hear, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip, slowly reaching back to get his phone in his pocket. Taking his time. You noticed his hands, brushing them against his black pants and reaching over to turn the screen on. His lock screen was him with his dog sleeping on top of his chest. It had changed from the sunset landscape that he had for the longest time.

That sunset landscape photo that he had taken a long time ago, with someone else by his side.

Yoongi unlocked his phone with his thumbprint.

You looked away, not wanting to invade any longer. Chewed on your lower lip. Pushed your hopes down, because there was no reason to place stakes on uncertainties and assumptions. And besides, you too were playing around to some extent. Everything just for fun, for sport, not believing in anything.

He said he wasn’t that serious and you agreed to that.

It only became hard because you were beginning to think Yoongi was more than casual, more than a silent player, more than the shallow pool of emotions he let on. Just friends, but friends don’t know the way you taste. You thought you could wade through. There was no reason to get too deep into such a shallow pool of water.

The rain fell down, down.

You heard the sound of soft rain on greenery emitting from his phone speaker.

Crickets.

Piano.

Synth.

Friends don’t feel the things you let me feel.

Your eyes shifted and you found Yoongi leaning over to set his smartphone into the cupholder to aid the acoustics. Black hair hanging down, pulling his hand back and rubbing them together. Not quite looking at you, ticking his chin to his phone. Outside, the rain barreled down, but inside it was soft, slipping into piano notes and dreams, blending with the hum of crickets during a summer night, and you could see it, the shadow of Yoongi’s profile diligently leaning over the keyboard, working late to turn his emotions into music, bleeding them out to patch up his torn-up heart.

You listened to his words, each one trapped in the melancholy melody.

Piano, synth, strings.

Wishes, uncertainty, begging for decisiveness.

It faded out and then began to play again.

“I leave the default on loop,” Yoongi murmured, reaching forward. “Just to test the replay value of it. See if it’s catchy enough to listen to over and over.”

You stopped his hand, closing your fingers around his.

Cold in your warm hold.

“Let me listen again.”

The sky darkened, day rapidly slipping into night, but you didn’t pay attention, instead holding Yoongi’s hand and listening to this individual track. The storm only deepened it, the strike of light across the clouds and the harsh bass of thunder, and you held his hand, sliding your fingers down, your palm to the back of his hand, your fingertips caressing his, smiling as you felt the calluses caused by his guitar.

Yoongi didn’t pull his hand away.

He curled his fingers inward to cover yours, stealing your warmth.

You let him.

You weren’t a music producer like Yoongi. Just an avid listener and attentive to details, especially his. You listened to the song and to his body, humming with nervousness, trying not to show it, his hand still but his muscles on edge, and you turned your head, raising it, finding his movement mirroring yours, his long bangs sliding back and revealing those dark brown orbs.

Wary curiosity, afraid of what he might see.

You let go of his hand.

His breathing stilled; exhale trapped.

You reached up and tucked half of his black hair behind his right ear, the rest falling over his left eye. Pale skin from late nights, the shadows of insomnia in the form of dark circles. His olive jacket rumpled. White shirt underneath wrinkled. Simple black athletic pants in a half-assed attempt to look somewhat decent. Clean at least.

“What do you think?” Yoongi asked, his low voice turning his whisper into waning smoke.

He tried not to show his scars, but his music was giving him away.

You leaned forward and kissed him.

Lips to lips, inhaling softly. Stealing his breath, and he gasped involuntarily as your fingers traced his jaw, pulling him to you, sliding your tongue between his soft lips. Slow, finding his tongue, warm, glossing your fingertips over his cheek, passionate, layering the moment. Tongue, lips, touch. Breathe, sigh, tilt of your head. Deeper, detailed, varying pressure and lustful murmurs accented by falling rain and Yoongi’s melody purring below your bodies.

You felt his hand reach out and reach between the flaps of your oversized charcoal gray hoodie, clutching your dress, his long fingers curling into red plaid with buttons down the center, tracing the circle shape with his fingernail.

A beat to catch your breath, his taste lingering.

“Your sound,” you whispered between his lips and yours, faint in the dripping darkness, lashes lifting to see his half-lidded gaze back at you, both of you trapped in this buoyant bliss. “In all forms, speaks to me.”

His voice like faded stars, barely breathing and coursing with scars.

“What do you hear?” Yoongi asked.

The tips of his hair brushed against your cheek, his head leaning against yours and yours leaning against his, wishes, uncertainty, begging for decisiveness. A delicate shiver as your lips touched once more.

“Possibilities,” you breathed.

And neither of you could bear to discuss what that could mean, for then it would be too real and too revealing, wrapping yourself instead in his lips and the sound of rain, your hands on his chest and his on yours, kiss after kiss, the storm coming down, down, piano keys and trembling synth, tongues curling and his scent in your nose, pushing him and he pushed back, his hair against your face, shaking exhale that you drank with greed, running your fingers over his chest, only thin jersey fabric separating his nipples from your nails.

You toyed with them, savoring his swallowed moan.

Haunted by the up and down, the never-ending seesaw of not wanting to be the one that ruins it all, and when it came crashing down, Yoongi and his torn-up heart wandered into your path, looking for it to be ripped out so he didn’t have to feel anything anymore.

You assured him, I can do that.

You pushed his parka down his shoulders, splaying your hands over his collarbones as he undid the first button of your dress.

Everyone thought Min Yoongi didn’t feel anything. Thought he didn’t care, thought he didn’t have anything to say because he was so quiet, thought he was comfortable in his silence, but they just weren’t listening o his voice, because his voice wasn’t in words.

But in body.

Breath.

Music notes.

He gasped into your mouth as you let one hand slide up into his hair, curling your fingers into the soft, thick waves of black, a comforting darkness, trailing your other hand down, following the rain, trickling your caress, soft lips and tilting your head to extend your tongue farther, thrusting into his mouth as his tongue pressed against yours, savoring your insistence, open-mouthed smirk pressed to your kiss.

The first, yeah, okay, wild and rough but no big deal, so the next time, be rougher, I know you can be, seemed out of character for him, but you obliged, grabbing his right arm and pressing it into the small of his back, pinning him down to your mattress, your other hand in his hair, fistful of black locks as you slammed his face down into the sheets, his squirming hips in between your thighs, his hard, leaking cock smearing pre-cum all over your sheets as the anal vibrator assaulted his ass, pressed deep to hit the spot that ruined him the most. Lifted his head, pushed it back down. Took his breath away and gave it back, surfacing from suffering only to be thrown down into the inescapable pleasure once more until it was over.

I thought you were gonna fuck me.

That was way more frustrating and rougher, wasn’t it?

Yoongi clenched his jaw then, relenting in his mess of pooled cum soaked into your sheets.

You figured, that’s enough, he’s not gonna come back, but you were wrong.

It must have been a very bad night, because he was trying to hide the alcohol on his breath and shielding his torn-up heart with a tough exterior, what? I’m not thrown off because of last time. You’ll need to do more than that. It was bad to think of doing things like holding him and asking him what was wrong. He was using you as surely as you were using him, siting on his dick, rolling your hips defiantly slow, pussy clenching his entire length, keeping him at the cusp of pleasure with your hand around his neck.

Yoongi looked back at you then, glassy eyes and biting back his whimpers.

Wishing for help.

You looked back, wordless, helping him by shattering the memories with pain and pleasure, working him from above and then from below, ramming your hips up into his and constricting him with your tightness until his knees gave out and, even then, you smacked your hand into his heaving chest, holding him up and fucking him until he came.

Uncertainty as you held him then, him accidentally falling asleep in the middle of cleaning up.

You let him sleep, because it seemed like he hadn’t slept for days.

You didn’t push his hair out of his eyes though. This wasn’t that kind of moment. This wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was his torn-up heart to be ripped out, so you let him be, leaving the distance between you and him, leaving those faded stars for eyes, letting him go when he wanted to be let go, stumbling out your door with his apologies.

Stop with the I’m sorry. You don’t have to say that to me, you know.

Back and forth, push and pull, up and down.

Yeah… Okay. I get it.

Rain cascading down, and now Yoongi slipped his fingers into the space created by opened buttons, stroking your skin underneath, teasing you by flicking the band of your bra, chuckling as you bit his lower lip, sucking on it harshly to get your message across.

The next time. And the next. Each time, you held him a little closer, a little tighter, a little longer. Between clenched jaws and your hand over his mouth, those dark brown eyes like faded stars that seemed to flicker with brightness every time you pushed him to the edge, the countless barrage of sensations shattering old memories.

I started making music again.

They were few and far between, these types of conversations. Oh? That’s good. You are music.

Was does that mean?

Your relationship with music is precious, you had told him. You belong with music and music belongs with you.

You broke the kiss and yanked his head back by his hair, shooting his low moan up to the ceiling of the car, tasting the vibration with your tongue against his Adam’s apple, his cool fingers slipping under your bra, pushing it up and wrapping his fingers over the curve of your breasts, a fingertip on your nipple, pushing it in a circle. You pulled down the collar of his shirt, pressing your lips to the bone, licking the pocket in between connected muscle, soft on flesh, sharp on skin, alternating kisses and biting, sharp sucks to mark his delicate fairness.

This was his idea, driving to the ocean, staying for a couple days. Random shit like that, going here or there, fucking in remote places or semi-public places, whatever he was feeling, trying to convince you with his calm demeanor that he was feeling nothing.

Then you would touch him and listen to his body.

You used to think, it’ll be quick, it’s just a person, people get over people, but it was not people or a person Yoongi was trying to get over. You realized between kisses, between gasps, between moans.

He was running.

He pinched your nipple and you sucked in a breath. Moment of hesitation and Yoongi swooped in, his other hand in your hair and pulling your head back, the sting of pain while your fingers remained tangled, but he didn’t seem to care, his head dipping down, mirroring bites and kisses, running his tongue over your throbbing skin, blood pumping strong under his agile tongue. Rain pouring down, blending with piano and the sounds of visceral sensuality, catching the gasps in your throat as Yoongi rolled your nipple between the rough pads of his fingers, squeezing, rubbing, manipulating the angle of your head.

It was hard to run from yourself, but Yoongi had help in your touch.

His hand slipped from your hair and he pinched both nipples, tugging up and making you hiss.

“It’s awkward,” you got out between gritted teeth. “With the seats.”

He let go and nudged you even though you were already moving, climbing over the center.

“Nice ass.”

Yoongi smacked his palm on your ass cheek and squeezed, satisfied at the way his fingers sank into the softness. You snapped your hips to the side, falling into the backseat and glaring.

“Get yours back here.”

The side of his mouth was quirked upward and, even in the rain and the blurred lights of the gas station, you could see the arrogance in it, climbing over the center as he shed his jacket, throwing it into the driver’s seat. His phone continued playing the instrumental track continuously on loop, the sound filling up the car as the outside remained a sea of pelting rain.

You shrugged out of your hoodie, no longer cold in the heat that was you and Yoongi.

He lowered himself, halfway on top of you.

You pulled up his shirt, carefully untangling him from the confines in the tight space.

It was unfair to put expectations on something that was clear from the beginning, so you did not, but there were still those nights, humid nights accompanied by open windows, and you looked out, bed empty, wondering if he looked up into the darkness too during those late sessions in his studio, his hands poised on his keyboard, trapped in his emotions so he bled them out over the keys and into melodies.

You would place your hands on the windowsill, looking up at the moon, the playful mirror of the sun, toying with its rays even as the sun hid on the other side of the earth.

You wondered if Yoongi looked for that light too.

You knew it was bad to think it, but.

You and him.

It could be so good.

Wishes, uncertainty, but you pushed it all away, wondering when would be that last time you would hold that hand scarred by music, wondering about that heart torn-up by others abusing his kindness, letting him hide behind an unfeeling shell and harsh words. You weren’t bothered by it because you understood it. Instead, you focused your energy on each time being worthwhile, knowing it might be the last time.

But you saw it, the way music patched up his torn-up heart.

Yoongi leaned down, black hair ghosting over your temples. You tipped your chin up, blowing a thin, steady stream of breath into his open lips, sensing his shoulders stiffening, low moan bubbling in his chest. Piano, synth, strings. Your fingers trailing along the elastic waistband, tugging down, tangling his knees in his pants and his boxer briefs. Falling rain, whispering darkness, barely any cars now. He sucked in a tight breath, your fingers spreading over his ass, sinking your nails into his flesh and dragging down, down the sides of his thighs, blossoming pain and thin pink lines, barely visible in the low light.

It was an addictive melody.

Your crept your fingers back up, one by one, dancing on his skin. Stroking it over the curve, tracing his hip, v-line, waist, breathing in his staggering exhales. Dug your nails in again. Dragged down. Pain in his hitched breath, but refusing to jerk his hips forward, resistant to giving in.

“Yoongi…”

A drifting, delicate soundwave of a whisper, calling him as much as it was intoxicating him, his erratic breathing exposing him despite his calm response.

“Touch my cock.”

His knees were ensnared by his pants and underwear.

You curved your hands inward, splaying them on the insides of his thighs.

“Not yet.”

You scratched him there too, harsh in the sensitive area, hearing Yoongi hiss and then an unwilling groan break out between gritted teeth, his knees hitting the backseat.

“F… Fuck…”

You pushed his clothes down more and he slid forward, his hard length hitting the inside of your thigh, smearing pre-cum onto your skin. His hand sank down between your bodies, unbuttoning more buttons, before attempting to slide his hand under the fabric.

You snatched his hand, stopping him.

“Unbutton it all.”

Yoongi growled, eyes flashing in the darkness, catching the blurred lights of the gas station, the reed-like synth murmuring through the cabin of the car. You shifted, moving your body horizontally, your head against the car window. Cocked your chin, still not letting go of his wrist.

He made a displeased noise.

You let him go and Yoongi unbuttoned the last three buttons.

Against the glass, you could hear the rain better. Softer now, steady. The lightning and thunder were long gone. You rolled your shoulders, tucking your bra under you and leaving your dress on the seat, lifting your hand to run your fingers through Yoongi’s hair again. Thick, soft waves of black, pushing it away from his face, sharp brows and dark eyes, his skin glistening in the blurs of low light.

You didn’t say anything.

The music continued, and Yoongi spoke to you.

Your name in his voice, weighted.

You smiled, listening to his sound.

You imagined him, illuminated by his computer monitor, furrowing his brows as he listened back to his creations. Each note a moment in his life, an exposé of his emotions. The melody the purple prose, contrasting his lyrics, candid, simple, clear.

You wondered what the words to this song were.

You pulled Yoongi down to you, into a maze of tongue and kisses, soft lips and gentle savagery, running your other hand down his torso, your nails against his chest. Past racing heartbeat, flicking his nipple and making him flinch, down his quivering core, feeling the heat rise, and you closed your fingers around him, his tremor slipping through your lips. Thick, hard, pulsing, working him slowly, rubbing your thumb along taut skin, hooking your index and middle finger, coiling the long length of your digits over his balls, constricting them.

Stroking his cock as you squeezed his balls.

He thrust his tongue into your mouth, fucking it.

The fingers of his left hand traced down your shoulder, his right holding him up. Sucking on his tongue and opening your eyes to his squeezed shut, his strong brows furrowed, his touch outlining your collarbones, the curve of your breast, stopping at your nipple and rubbing the hard nub, pinching it, flicking it, making your shallow breaths even shorter, his pace stuttering as you gripped him a little tighter, pumping him strongly.

His fingers let go, falling down, down.

You broke the kiss, turning your head to the side and releasing him from your hold for a split second. Drenched your hand in your own spit, tongue over fingers and in between them, a thick layer on your palm and you extended it back down, dripping onto his stiff cock, gripping him tight, two wet fingers around his balls.

“S-Shit…” he swore under his breath, swearing again as his fingers dipped in between your legs, feeling the slick and the mess.

“Put it on the head,” you murmured.

Yoongi didn’t even bother to refute you.

He coated his fingers all over with your pussy juices and lifted his hand, hissing in pleasure as he smeared the sweet stickiness over the head of his cock, previously neglected, but not anymore, his fingers now joining yours as you moved your hand up and down, teasing himself while you kept your steady pace.

His eyes flickered to yours.

You looked back, lifting a brow at half of his face covered by his hair.

The rain sang along with the melody echoing from the cupholder, blurred lights of the gas station catching his dark eyes, the car windows misted with heat and clinging droplets.

Yoongi watched your face as you jacked him off, slick and wet, squeezing his balls with every stroke, his own two fingers rubbing over the slit and along the underside of the head, breathing hard, lust thundering through his shoulders, flinching involuntarily at the overwhelming sensations. You didn’t stop, a bit faster, his head trembling a little, shaky pants, holding out for as long as he could, the muscles in his neck tense, the skin dotted with hickeys, your mark on him.

He removed his fingers from his cock and pushed them into your pussy.

You gasped, your stroke suddenly unexpectedly longer.

You stared into Yoongi’s eyes and not even the black curtain of hair could hide the fire in them, lit up by reflected light in the droplets of nature’s tears.

You raised your hips, rolling them into his thrusting fingers. A corner of his lips quirked upwards, the peek of white teeth and pink gums, inhale a struggle but driven by pleasure, bringing himself closer to your face, forcing you to remove your fingers from his balls and only focus on pumping him, directing the pressure at the base of the head. Ricocheting ecstasy shooting up your spine, to your head, to your breath sucked into his lungs, sparking oxygen into his blood rushing down to his throbbing cock coated in your spit and your juices, mixing onto your palm and fingers, sticky, slick, messy, listening to the wet, squelching sound of Yoongi’s fingers pushing into your dripping pussy.

Falling rain.

Piano and synth.

The rhythm of breathing, his sound just enough, hitched gasp to urge you to go faster, extended moan as your hand tightened, approving of the roughness, driving his fingers in, over and over, following the pace that you built through the haze of need, your right elbow holding you up as his left hand clutched the edge of the seat, the muscles from his neck, shoulder, and arm flexed, your name in a wanton hiss.

“Cum for me.”

You let out a puff of defiance.

“You first.”

Yoongi seemed amused at your response. Perhaps even expecting it, because you clenched your jaw as he slid another finger in, pushing your arm to move faster, more controlled, just under the head, and you could see his jaw was tense too, his forearm rippling with movement, building, building, layer on layer, scattered rain, crickets and strings, holding your breath as Yoongi held his, listening to the dirty noises blending with the rain and his own melody.

You pressed your hips up into his hand, all the way to his knuckles, and clenched around his three fingers.

“Fuck, Yoongi…”

He screwed his eyes shut, swearing under his breath.

The waved crashed through you, igniting ripple across your torso and throb coursing through your hips as you came, hot, slick, pulsating around his fingers, uncontrollable shiver as his hips dipped and thick cum shot over your stomach, painting downwards, warmth cascading out onto your heated skin, covering you in his heady, strong scent, the head of his cock pressed to your abdomen, spreading it more. His black hair feathered over your shaking collarbones as he pressed his forehead to your shoulder, keeping his body hovering over yours. His pants washed over your neck, echoing in your ear.

Whisper of your name, husky and low, the sound melding with the rain.

You leaned your head against the window, cool to your heated scalp, gazing up at the black sky, the moon being the only break to the blackness, but today it couldn’t play with you, caged by sobbing clouds.

Each breath high, intense, the hum of pleasure slipping away slowly.

Yoongi lifted his head from your shoulder.

You didn’t look down yet, not really prepared for the cooling mess on your stomach.

Then you hissed and snapped your head down, seeing and feeling Yoongi’s tongue pressed to your skin, licking up the dripping trickles of milky white. He knew you were watching. A single blink and those dark brown orbs observed you under a shadow of black as he drank up his own orgasm.

You saw the twinkle of pleased amusement in those eyes despite him keeping his blank expression, tilting his head and running his tongue across your abdomen, leaving lines of tingling desire.

“Y-Yoongi…”

He lapped up the last bit, pressing his lips to your waist, wordless.

His words were each kiss, sprinkling them down your hips.

The strings thrilled with the falling rain and recorded crickets, fading out to the real rainfall.

His body slid down, slightly crammed in the small space, but you scooted up a little and then his mouth was on you, swirling tongue and dipping between your folds, your slick coating his lips, sweet vicious juices joining the salty strength of his orgasm. You felt him collect it into his mouth, painting your pussy with his tongue and grazing the tip over your engorged clit.

You whined and bit down on it, trying to shut it up.

Yoongi closed his lips around your clit and began a steady, firm pace, the previous orgasm compounding the sensation, your nerves singing with familiarity, craving that tongue and its precise movement, just rough enough to make your blood sing and those lips keeping you at the cusp of inescapable pleasure, his hands clutching your ass to support you to his mouth.

You moaned to the ceiling, leaking into his mouth in a twitching waterfall, painting your cum onto his chin. Grinding your hips to his face and throbbing against his still lips, wet muscle pressed flat to your quivering clit, the faint friction enough to prolong the high a little longer, a little stronger, a little death at the work of his masterful tongue.

Yoongi drank that up too, slowly and carefully.

The rain shimmered down, down.

He lowered you. Crawled back up, his breath a mix of you and him, and you breathed it in, savoring it.

“We’re still a couple hours from our destination,” Yoongi mumbled.

“Want me to drive?” you murmured.

“No. I’ll do it.”

You stared into his eyes. Yoongi reached up and pushed back his hair, a display of the stark contrast of his skin to the darkness. His black hair swooped to one side, tumbling down in a wave and cradling the left side of his face.

His eyes were clear, looking back into yours.

“You’re not alone, you know,” you reminded him softly.

He smiled faintly.

Steady and musical, the rain tapped against the car, blending with recorded crickets fading in and out.

“I know. I want you to be with me.”

You searched his eyes, looking for the familiar distance that he kept between you and him, but it wasn’t there. Washed away. You reached up and traced his jaw, remembering the familiar shape of his lips. The taste of many nights and honesty, clear in his intentions from day one. You said nothing, wondering if it was real, and Yoongi held your gaze, letting you see that it was.

You could hear it.

His words.

In his breath, in the melody he had created, in his touch as he mirrored your hold, grazing your cheekbone with callused fingertips marked by his guitar.

Piano, synth, strings.

Wishes, uncertainty, decisiveness.

You kissed him again, in the darkness, surrounded by rain and his music.

--

masterpost

[redheadlesbianfreak]

2 &/or 17 for the fic recs meme :D

2. 🔁 A fic you’ve re-read several times

Solicitude by Treedok

I first read this in 2019 and when I have repeatedly returned to this fic over the years. This is easily my favorite fanfiction of all time, it is so beautifully written. I think about it all the time and it has heavily influenced me as a writer. It is one of those pieces of writing that makes me think "I hope I can write something as impactful as this" every time I read it. I keep coming back to it over the years and rereading my favorite chapters over and over, and I feel like I find something every time I do. This author writes Kratos and Lloyd's relationship in such a complex way that I never get tired of rereading this fic and I will probably never get tired of it. I'm grateful that this author shared their writing with the fandom, and I hope that they're still out there, writing for the rest of the world to see. <3

17. ✨ A fic you wish you could read again for the first time

Two Sparrows, Rising Sun by nomansland

I feel like this one is cheating because I also return to my favorite scenes in this fic quite often. It's harder for me to reread the entire thing because it's so long but I am definitely due for a reread with this fic. This fic is SUCH a well-done AU where Lloyd is raised by Anna. The way the author writes Anna is fantastic. They do a good job of adding their own world-building details as well. I love the complicated relationship both of them have with Kratos in this fic (I'm obsessed with reading pretty much anything related to Kratos, Lloyd, and Anna as a family). The author also does a great job with Raine, who is a major character in this fic as well. I'm not a huge fan of the Lloyd and Raine ship, but other than that, this is a 10/10 fic.

Just as a side note: I'm usually more interested in reading family content for Tales of Symphonia than I am with romance. I've found the exception to this is Kratos/Anna, I just LOVE these two. I am also very soft for Kratos/Yuan, Colette/Lloyd, and Sheena/Colette and will read those from time to time as well!

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

(NO BETA) EXCERPT FROM MY SHIGADABI FANTASY AU, UP ON THE CLIFF:

“... Kurogiri told me earlier that you slept through most of the passage to the cliff. Should I trust you found it a peaceful ride?”

Still encased in nighttime dimness, Touya tried to decipher the tone floating down at him from the head of the table. He couldn't see its owner past the glow of the candles, the darkness that rained down on them from the vaults in the high ceiling. To compensate his lack of visual confirmation, he sketched the man there with his mind, faithful to the memory of how his host, the Count up on the cliff, had looked under the morning sunlight.

Touya remembered it all too well, how they had sat there distracted with their food or the noises of their companions. The Count's hair would flow down and sparkle against the raw terrain of his skin, making it all the more hard to not stare at his eyes of red turmoils and secrecy. The Count was fresh snow on an open wound and Touya thought the color was more common the closer he was to the passage, but not by much. On his journey to the valley, he had met barely a few of human refugees with a similar red in his eyes. Yet the Count's matched his cape and its collar, lined in white fur —it matched his hair.

That thought would've made him frown if spoken aloud. After all, he cared nothing if the Count had had the coat over his shoulders made to match him, if his scars made his all the more raw, if his was the name he hasn't known yet. Curious but trivial things did not matter and they shouldn't. Touya was only interested in the sensation of his mind already wandering, getting uncoordinated. It was the same case as before, when any thought of the Count would lead him into slippery slopes and Touya, or anyone else on that matter, would soonly forget why they were thinking about him at all.

“...”

Once more, Touya looked up to face the Count's silence, allowing the company to chitchat as they pleased. The times they talked were enough to be counted with the fingers of a single hand and, rare as they were, they would startle Touya, raising his attention of the ones sitting or resting beside him. The Count had the soft-spoken cadence of a man home taught by the best tutors money could buy, but his words lacked any politeness or fondness and instead came enveloped in direct orders or demands, cryptical than most, that the habitants of the castle would follow to the letter. Touya did call him a petulant child in the past, if he recall the accident shortly after his arrival. It had been easier back then, to insult him, to blame the anger and frustration he felt on the man that demanded his sacrifice. Touya hadn't known him yet and he did not know him still, which left him with the only other option available: to know himself better, his place in that monster town, his role in that castle. He could only decipher his own heart to set apart any alien feeling, any influence, any invasion.

As for now, it was as if they were not there. Touya had disappear alongside the Count to the world.

He risked a glace at Toga and the gecko boy, each by his left, but they were busy reacting to some kind of joke Jin was telling. Mr. Atsuhiro, by his right side, was not even looking at the table or his dessert, too busy gesturing at their butler as if explaining his excitement about what they had had for dinner that night. No one reacted to the conversation he was having with the Count. No one even looked his way o tried to pressure him to answer, not even the butler confirmed what the Count had said. Could it be...

Could it be that the Count was reading his mind?

Touya made to grab his glass, emptying his mind so violently he felt a snap in the back of his head. However, as soon as he extended his left hand the room started spinning, the smiles of the pictures framed by the walls getting more loopsided by the minute, the food balancing left and right over the tablecloth, a waltz of dresses and coats and hats and spiders—

“Calm down.”

Touya tried to blink it away. There was a solid grip on his chest, tugging to get the nod on his lungs undone. He allowed the unknown pulse to had him as he concentrated on keeping his face clean of panic; not thinking, not allowing anyone else to know how altered he wasat the moment. It took him a lifetime, the type that is condensated in a minute, before the room settled and he was able to hear.

“ —ust like that. Good,” Touya blinked again and again towards the direction of the voice, one, two seats past Mr. Atsuhiro, noticing what he thought was a faint smile hovering on the air and a pair of watchful red eyes on him.

Touya heard it again, this time realizing the Count was not moving his lips, not even vacillating on his strange and curious expression:

“Did I spook you, Dabi?” when he only narrowed his eyes in response, he was allowed to appreciate how the Count huffed with amusement, looking down at his plate, “A-ah. Don't be angry. It's not my intention to read your mind, nor am I doing it at the moment.”

Confusion accumulated on his brow, driving him closer to the table as if he could figure out what the Count was talking about by sheer proximity. He was not talking, was he? Touya could see how he lifted a cup to drink of the wine, responding to whatever Spinner had asked him a second ago.

“I am projecting the words to your mind, that is. I asure you it's a one-way road. Unless...”

For the first time since his arrival, Touya saw the mouth of the Count tilt at the corners with what could only be mischief. It was hard to admit, even harder to explain, what the motion did to him and how it activated his competitive instinct. From his time training with his dad, Touya could recognize a challenge with eyes close, hands bind, deaf to any sound. It was in the air, in the gentle swept of the candlelight, the smooth inclination of the host shoulders until his elbows were resting fully on the table, hands intertwined ao he could rest his chin.

He reminded himself of the original question, the one that started this whole conversation. He had slept, sure, but it jad been due the strange magic that had surrounded him that evening. Memories of his family had seized him as their car climbed downhill, images of his childhood on the Himura state, of Sekoto Peak, of his siblings and cousins running in the distance as he chased butterflies in the hidden fields past the family greenhouse. He doesn't know when he transitioned from merely reminiscing to fully dreaming. The distant howls woke him near the butler's tavern, some hours past midnight, maybe.

When Touya glanced at the Count, he was almost bored, playing with the rim of his cup while gecko boy showed him something on his hand. It could have been a spider, but Touya didn't care. He had an hypothesis to prove, a host to impress, a dare to win.

He pictured himself opening his mouth, forming the syllables with his lips, tasted the sounds of every vowel and sent them crashing to his host pretty ears.

Touya thought, “unless I talk back?” and stared satisfied at the Count as his eyes left the gecko's hands to look at him, red so bright he thought the world had caught fire. The Count waited, moving his fingers against his cheeks as if telling Touya that now he had his attention. “I slept on the ride here influenced by your butler's dark magic, but you knew that. You asked him to use his magic and put me to slumber. Your question, it was not politeness nor politics.”

The Count lifted his cup, drinking the last of his wine as Touya organized his thoughts.

“You wanted me to talk to you this way.”

It was the longest conversation he had had with the man since he arrived at that wasteland. The fact dented Touya's pride. That he had allowed the Count to treat him like a prisoner for so long, that he had allowed the Count to ignore him, his existence, if not for his presence every morning during breakfast and more recently on dinners, where he would not address him at all and leave as soon as the meal was over. He did not ached for his company or validation. He didn't want him to treat him like the rest, with similar silence that always ended on a well though inquiry, maybe a few words of encouragement, disguised by his position as the count so they wouldn't sound very vulnerable. The Count had talked to him before, but always through others, or just a phrase, just a nod. He had sent him a trained dog to guide him through the town, so he wouldn't get lost. He had offered to took him back to his village, ordering a car to wait for him every evening by the gates of the castle. He had gave him the key of his room, accepted him as Dabi and only referred to him as that, despite knowing the truth. Had had Dabi's meals made specially for him as to not upset his stomach, gave him a room specially acclimated to accommodate his wronging sickness.

Everything he knew about the Count, he knew it for his actions and never his words. And it had been enough for him for an entire month now. He had found it comfortable enough to walk and talk and act among them without much fuss. Touya only demanded answers or respect when it was either about his mission to unlock the mystery behind the demon sickness that afflicted him or when it was about his freedom to roam around doing whatever the fuck he wanted. He didn't care about the games the Count wanted to play with the rest of them.

He almost missed the moment the Count stood up, the legs of his chair scratching so subtly the wood of the floor. It was their signal. The meal was officially over.

He thanked the gecko boy —Iguchi— for showing him the cards of a new game he was crafting and nodded once, a gesture meant to acknowledge everyone in the room in a brief goodbye, before he walked out the room and left behind only the trail of his coat disappearing around the corner.

Touya followed the rest, his dessert intact on the plate as they took the dishes to the kitchen to be magically cleaned by the staff. Jin invited them to play cards, an offer he denied without explanation and that Iguchi and Toga immediately latched to. Mr. Atsuhiro had only crossed his arms and let out a single sigh, deciding he could play piano to make them company or supervise the progression of the game, in case it got... Complicated.

Dabi sent them to the game room with a shake of shoulders. They could do as they wanted too.

He didn't want to know.

On the hallway up to his room, he stopped along the way once, in front of the window walls. The moon had partially came out, clouds rolling low over the forest and mixing with the fog. The air was chilling, cold kisses on his bandaged wounds. He extended his pointer finger to touch a pale ray of moonlight, admiring the absence of heat and the silver stiches that differentiate it so much from its daylight equivalent. Beneath it, the edges of his burns became a deep purple, his skin taking and unnatural blue glow. Back at home, they had told him several times that his eyes would get the more scary at night, when they would shine even brighter than the moon or any fireplace made by human hands. He would laugh and smile, big, big enough to show all his teeth, and the kids would run and call for help and their mothers would call him a monster, a zombie, a walking grave.

Then came that sensation to his chest and Touya squished it, set it aflame, reduced it to ashes. He stepped back and turned around, not stopping until the door of his room was locked and his body was resting on his bed, curtains close, his clothes changed and wounds freshly bandaged.

He had felt red eyes on him. That sensation. The tug, the weight, his finger touching the glass of the window. Touya didn't want to know. He didn't want to know if what he had said was right or if it was wrong, if the Count left becuase he left or if he left because of him. He didn't want to know if the others were having fun, sitting on the carpet, fingers touching one another as they laid their cards down.

The night had inflicted irreparable damage on him. He shouldn't had allowed the Count to talk to him like that, through his thoughts, direcly to his mind. Touya shouldn't had fallen so easily for the Count's twisted games, craving the excitement of a new discovery, a challenger to beat, a rival to show off to. Something had been taken and given in return that night. The full moon was whispering of trades and Touya sat by the fireplace, burning piece of paper after piece of paper, until his rage had subdued.

« you want me to talk to you like this. »

Touya threw an entire book to the fire.

He didn't want to know.

[blackberrywars]

38, 41 (I’m always cruising for fic recs!) 42 & 48 ❤️

Thank you so much for playing!!! I appreciate the asks, and apologize for the amount of shit I about to write. I messaged you about losing this draft, but apparently tumblr just sent it to the bottom of my draft pile, so here we go! Putting it under a cut, because I went so overboard.

38: Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful?

Alright, so this one is a little complicated. On the one hand, my most popular fic by far is Flint And Steel, but while the numbers definitely shocked me the most, it didn't surprise me. Most of my stuff is of side-pairings and f/f stuff, which isn't as popular in this fandom, so of course a fic with the big three of Jaskier, Geralt, and Yennefer is gonna get more traction in the form of shares and comments. The ones that surprised me though? The first two installments of my lady laiden smut series, Sweeter Than Pride and Collars of Many Kinds. Those two got awesome comments and bookmarks from people I didn't even recognize. And the sheer number of hits on them means there's definitely people re-visiting them, which is the highest kind of flattery on my smut fic.

41: Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

I refuse to choose only one, so buckle up, you're getting six. Also, to everyone I @'d, I hope you don't mind, I can remove it if you prefer.

I Am Bound To You (With A Tie I Cannot Break) by @on-a-lucky-tide. He did a fucking incredible job at conveying very complicated emotions in actions, and made me cry for entirely too long. I want to develop this skill so badly.

A Beginners Guide to Exploiting the Kaedweni Tax Code For Fun and Profit by @heronfem. If you ever want a masterclass in translating characterization to a modern au, this is IT. It's a massive Laiden-centered project with the whole found family along for the ride, and they handle the large cast beautifully. I've never really done a modern AU, but if I do and it's half this good, I'll be thankful.

Lives in Legacy by @tantumuna. This fic is is not only long enough to make me pass out in envy, every word counts. It explores a truly dark omegaverse with Eskel and Geralt, and there aren't words to describe it. I felt truly indescribable amounts of pain while reading this, even during the healing, and I'm so glad to have done it.

Snow and Dirty Rain by ajfanfic. It's a lovely little series of 70s lesbians Geralt and Jaskier living through that era as queer women and adopting butch lesbian Ciri. It's just a wonderful, well-researched AU, and I want to emulate that kind of grounded world.

Worthy of the Honey-Comb by @castillon02. It's a portrait of Vesemir coming to terms with Kaer Morhen's destruction and having to step up for the remaining wolves and form a new image of what it means to be a wolf witcher. Combines flashback and present moment so well it makes me ache.

Ballads by @linearao3. This is not a witcher fic like the rest, but it is one of the best examples of synthesizing omegaverse into a book's canon. This made me feel so many things, and again, all the details and worldbuilding just make it spectacular.

42: Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

My dear @hellinglasses has become a dear friend and has always been a wonderful cheerleader. Ever since the day she sent 9 comments on all my fics to my dry-as-the-desert inbox. Her efforts have helped me write so much more than I thought I could, and while I love going back to re-read them all, this one om Calm Before The Storm is probably one of my favorites.

This comment by Ledgea will forever hold a place in my heart, because it was the first comment I ever received, on the first fic I ever wrote. They made it into an amazing comment thread, and it was just so encouraging to me as a first-time writer. (EDIT: I put the wrong comment by mistake, because i was trying to limit myself)

48: What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

According to my history, the last fic i (re-re-re-re-)read was Cock in the Henhouse by the wonderful @halehathnofury. It's a hilarious, filthy Geralt x Eskel anthology, and I have entirely too many feelings about it. Excellent for a night when you just need to feel good all over.

[thygoddessouijathicc]

DSAF Rainworld AU Fanfic: The start of our adventure

(Disclaimer: Ok so I still haven’t finished Rainworld. However I think I’m far enough in (on the shoreline! :D) to start this, plus people like my slugcat art, and I got a minimal amount of likes on my AU ideas. Go check those out if this is the first you see of this.

So players gonna play, Ouija’s gonna awkwardly mash together two of her hyperfixations together and show you the mutilated horrifying monstrosity produced as if it’s a cute kitten.

PEACE!)

It has been 9 cycles since the orange slugcat’s little sister has gone missing. She still had yet to return. His parents had not allowed the slugcat near the trench she had fallen into, but had carved out a little trail after every rainfall to help her return if she still lived.

The orange slugcat was tired of simply waiting for her to appear and decided to take matters into his own hands.

It was a bright morning, the orange slugcat had awoken before the rest of his family, and ventured outside their nest, taking care not to slip as the ground was loose from the last rain. He had reached the pit before his family had awoke and stood hovering over it for a moment.

The orange slugcat took a deep breath and hopped inside.

.

.

.

The fall to the ground was rough as the slugcat lands directly on his face, he can’t afford to express this pain. To live in this world was to live in fear. Fear of hunger. Fear of predators. Fear of water. And most of all, fear of the rain.

If he gets caught in the worlds downpour he will be quickly crushed flat or drowned, he doesn’t know which one will happen first and both are equally bad.

Squeezing under large stone towers, and through pipe after pipe, and up a pole, flipping his way into a room full of batflies. The orange slugcat pounces on the batflies and eats them alive, one after another until his belly is full. 

The slugcat pops back out of the pipe, jumping across an overhanging piece of metal from an age long passed and grabbing another pole. He crawls into another pipe.

The next room is empty save for a pit and a pipe on the other end. Feeling the thunderous sound of rain starting to come down the slugcat realizes it’s all or nothing now, there is no point in going back to explore. He leaps across the pit with some difficulty, and rushes towards the pipe. 

He finds himself falling into the next room, no clear way back up.

Fortunately his mad rush gambit has payed off as there appears to be a shelter. He recognizes it as one due to the faint smell of slugcat and danglefruit juice in a pipe nearby. 

Shaking off the pain of his new wounds the slugcat jumps up to the shelter pipe right as the rains start coming down, surely to flood the area.

It doesn’t matter, by the time he wakes up, the water will be all but gone.

Once he gets inside the shelter, it closes. The orange slugcat recognizes the scent of his sister. She has survived the fall! Well… he knew that much. If she hadn’t she would be home by now. If he hadn’t he would be too. People tend to wake up every day where they last slept if they died. The black and white slugcat wasn’t here, so he surmises she must have gotten further than this. Possibly trying to get back home.

The orange slugcat is bigger and stronger than his little sister and he needed less food. He should be able to catch up to her despite all the wasted cycles.

Weirdly she’s not the only slugcat he smells, nor the most recent. It seems slugcats come through here often. 

As the orange slugcat succumbs to his hibernation, he dreams of the days he spent playing with his little sister and older brother…

(Note: Those of you who know rainworld and those who do not, welcome to the DSAF Rainworld AU! Brought to you by a fan of both things wanting to awkwardly fuse them together into something weird! The story will be mostly a retelling of Rainworld’s storyline with the addition of DSAF elements as well as the fact that once the DLC is out and I know how spearmasters would work, I’ll implement Dave as one and he’ll join Jack on the magical death adventure to find his sister! Btw if it’s not clear of if you haven’t read my initial post introducing the AU, Jack fills the role of the monk.

Btw take a Slugcat Jack faceplanting:)

[21st-century-ninja]

💙 Wild Things — if I may ask about the series and no particular fic — is Master Wu part of this AU? What’s his heritage? Connected to Lloyd’s, presumably, but with how scared of it the poor kid is, maybe Wu and Garmadon are totally different?

Wild Things spoilers below the cut! You have been warned >:D

Prefacing this au as a whole: not everything is set in stone yet.  Things might still be changed around as I develop the world further, but as of now, this is where my thoughts are :D

Wu is in this au, although I'm not entirely sure when he's going to appear yet. Both him and Garmadon are full-lined kitsune, which basically means that their line only contains kitsune going as far back as either of them can remember.

(an addon but in wild things au you either are or you aren't a monster. As far as I'm planning now, species do not mix together and create new species. A child of a dragon and a phoenix will either be a dragon or a phoenix, not a dragon with feathers or a phoenix who controls rain. The most influence the other creature has on the offspring is in slight aesthetic differences, such as Jay being a japanese moth variant despite his father being a moth from America!)

Most kitsune live in skulks, or family groups, apart from the rest of the world and there's a wide range of "domesticity" for those skulks. Kitsune need to feast on happiness and affection and love to survive. Some kitsune don't care how much they drain from their hosts and leave them unable to feel or create happiness in their lives at all. Most don't do that. Instead, they have skulk nights where they communally feast on each others' happiness so no one fox comes out of it too drained. Wu leads one such skulk, and if Lloyd ever has a breakdown and runs off into the wild?

[a03bkdk]

fantasy bkdk fic rec list

a certain kind of magic by eatdirt

((4590-1/1))

“Forgive me, kind witch! I—I do not wish to disturb you, but I’m afraid it's urgent!"

Katsuki will later blame his bewilderment that anyone—let alone a human boy in filthy rags—would drag themselves all the way out to his home on the outskirts of civilization, for why he stalks down the stairs and cracks open the door.

“Are you a fucking idiot?” he growls.

Or, the one where Katsuki is a witch in a weed-infested swamp and Deku won’t stop coming around.

the shrinekeeper and the harvest god by bkdkwritingsdump

((smut-30148-18/18))

Izuku keeps the shrine of the harvest god, a minor god mostly worshiped by farmers and ignored by everyone else until the yearly harvest festival. During a spring thunderstorm one year, a mysterious man named Katsuki shows up at his shrine seeking shelter from the rain, but ends up over staying his welcome by a few months. In that time, Izuku not only begins to become suspicious of his identity, but finds himself longing for something more between them.

cupid, draw back your bow by almasaga

((i dont remember if there is smut-16496-2/2))

Cupid remembers the oath he took, remembers the broken arrow, remembers the wrath of his mother and goddess, remembers his roots, remembers that he is a god.

But when he hears him he forgets it all.

“Are you there still?” Asks a voice, clear and never wrong. The only voice he wishes to hear.

“Always,” he says and it blows through his beloved.

solar by kindaopps

((smut-7037-1/1))

Here he is, a god, wanting a mortal.

deku by mirachadoodles

((smut-20852-9/9))

Neither seemed willing to look away in the tense silence that fell, drawn to one another as if by a thick and brilliant thread.

The boy viewed him thoughtfully, as though he recognized him from another life, as though he knew him.

It was odd—he felt the same way.

---

Or, shortly after Katsuki's dragon went missing, a naked man attempted to break into his family barn. Izuku had no memory of his past life, and apparently had no idea how to be human, either. He was just acting on instinct.

a cat named deku by  silentsongbird

((6662-1/1))

Bakugou begrudgingly takes in a stray cat that has been hanging around his home. He says he's motivated by the weather turning colder, but he just can't resist the little fur ball. One night, Deku decides to let him in on a little secret.

if the stars align, then for us they were meant by runawaydeviant

((smut-17485-6/6))

Katsuki and Eijirou crash land in a forest to the south of their homeland. Injured and stranded, they befriend a local nature spirit, who is much more than he first appears to be.

soulmates in steel and (p 2)mine is yours by lalazee

((3000-1/1)) (p 2(smut-2509-1/1))

Midoriya Izuku returns to a tribe long lost and forgotten to claim his rightful throne. At least, that's what King Katsuki assumes of him.

(p 2) One large, calloused hand spread sparks down Izuku’s chest, ribs, rested at his lightly bruised hip. Izuku knew fingerprints still remained from last time, and the last, and the time after that. He felt more like a dappled deer now, all those spots smattered across his thighs, ass, hips, wrists. King Katsuki was certainly a man who marked his territory.

but the entrails are the best part! by supercrunch

((15278-1/1))

The boy straightens up. He’s about half a head shorter than Katsuki, face soft and youthful and sweet. He turns to look at him properly. His dark hair shines in the dying light, basket of blooms looped over one arm and mouth quirked into a tiny half-smile. The sun hits his face and makes his eyes a bright greeny-gold, just like emeralds.

Katsuki likes emeralds.

“Pretty,” he says, reaching out and picking the stranger up around the middle. He’s surprisingly heavy, although Katsuki doesn’t mind. “I like you. Come see my nest.”

The boy hits him.

He’s stronger than he looks, turns out. Katsuki drops him and falls onto his back, pain blooming across his face. Birds sing. The sky’s a lovely shade of orange, clouds floating lazily by. The boy scarpers. He leaves his basket of flowers behind, footsteps thumping on the ground and fading away as he escapes.

The sun sets. Katsuki, lying flat on his back with a bloody nose, decides he’s just fallen in love.

happenstance by merrywetherweather

((78566-22/22))

When Katsuki was just a child, his mother, the King of Lucia, took him to enact diplomacy with the Midoriya's, the royal family of the neighboring country of Tayloria. After that day, his fate was sealed, his marriage arranged to the Midoriya's elusive omegan child.

At the age of twenty, he leaves for Tayloria again, this time, to finally wed his fiance and cement the allyship of the two kingdoms indefinitely. Only, his fiance turns out to be the child he had met on his very first visit, a naive, idealistic young prince who wants nothing to do with marrying the prince of Lucia.

Good thing he just assumed Katsuki was only part of his fiance's entourage.

An arranged marriage between two princes aob au where Katsuki tries to abide by Izuku's desire for a natural romance to develop without letting Izuku know his true identity.

plums by Ivillpunchyouinthethroat

((14116-3/3))

There’s a boy stealing plums from the garden below the balcony Katsuki’s lounging at for the night.

Correction.

There’s a boy stealing plums, very badly, from the garden below the balcony Katsuki’s lounging at for the night.

mermaid AU breathe In by contrarybee

((series-smut-3 works-45236 in all))

Midoryia Izuku was born in captivity. He's never known the ocean.

His human carer Yagi-san tells him they're getting a new merman in the aquarium, one that they hope Izuku might like. Having been alone since his mother's death, Izuku is beyond excited to have a new mer around, but Bakugo Katsuki might prove to be too much. Or maybe he's just right.

fishy by warschach

((smut-19417-1/1))

Izuku’s convinced his hot co-worker/neighbor, Katsuki, is a mermaid-or merman- you gotta consider genders even with mythical creatures- and plans to prove it.

(or this is kinda like the show ‘Monster Quest’, except Izuku actually finds said monster, falls in love, and have sexy times.)

home is where the waves crash. by tiredwrites

((4105-1/1))

Izuku thrashes in his cage, the fins that line his large tail flare with a dangerous purpose. The claws his fingers taper into slice through the water and catch the light that filters into the clear water of the aquarium tank he's in.

His gills flare in irritation as he flips around, muscled tail ramming into the three-inch glass barrier with a thundering BAM!

Bioluminescent sacs under clear scales flare and glow, flashing a brilliant toxic green. The team that had brought the merman into the tank watch the mer flail and roar, flexing the powerful jaws that can often unhinge, like a snake.

only the roses know by katyastark

((13193-5/5))

Izuku didn’t want to marry a foreigner. The person he wanted was here… somewhere. He didn’t have a face or a name to ascribe to his admirer. Only roses. For every name day and holiday since he was thirteen, he had received a perfect orange rose. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. The roses never failed to make him feel doted upon. It was their secret, and Izuku cherished it more than anything else in the world. He didn’t want to give that up for some stranger, for an alliance through a loveless marriage.

torn fur, blunt teeth by scribespirare

((smut-43013-17/17))

After eight months of being collared, Izuku is finally free. But a dark, stormy city is no place for a lonely shapeshifter on the run.

ignorance leads to bliss by nikawithspice

((smut-3941-1/1))

A brave wandering adventurer swoops in and saves a beautiful prince from danger, gets dragged to a celebratory bonfire and has a night that he could only have dreamed of!

Or, the one in which Midoriya Izuku accidentally gets married to a Dragon Prince but wouldn't have it any other way.

[dizzydizney]

Hi, I'm new to the descendants fandom, was wondering if you had any headcanons you wished to share with the class. I like knowing things

aww that's so sweet of you! i feel like i have so much stuff swimming around in my head but now that i have a chance to put it out there, i can't think of anything good D: i'll try my best tho!!

i don't know how well the tagging system will do so TRIGGER WARNING for suicide, death, child abuse - the usual for this fandom

First of all! It's a very very morbid thought but I think that death is possible on the Isle, it's just temporary. Like an Old Guards situation. Bc otherwise I think people would be killing each other left and right, or trying to off themselves to escape the Isle, or dying of starvation or disease or god only knows what. And I think each member of the Core Four has died at least once

Mal drowned when she fell into the ocean. Jay was about 14 when he was practicing his parkour-ing over rooftops and ended up falling from like four stories up. Carlos fell out of his tree house when he was like 11 and broke his neck. And Evie was about 13 when she died of starvation, bc her mom thought she was getting chubby and locked her in her room for days without food

Also it happened to Harry when he was a baby and fell out of his pram. And Gil was about 7 when he and his brothers were taken hunting for the first time, and someone was being careless with one of the guns and it went off and hit Gil. I'm not sure about Uma, tho. Maybe she's the one anomaly and hasn't died

So that's my big general one. Now I'll try to go character by character and just say whatever comes to mind!

Mal: Nonbinary, she/they pronouns. On the ace spectrum. Obviously suffers from anxiety and panic attacks, that’s p much canon. She’s a virgo, very much a perfectionist, and terrified of disappointing people. I think if it were a real world au, her name would be Mallory. And she’d hate that so she’d just go by Mal. Introvert. Doesn’t do well in crowds or on the spot. Loves her alone time, and spends most of it listening to music and drawing. She experiments with more art styles than just spray paint and sketching once she’s in Auradon. Always has charcoal or oil pastel smudges on her hands (and sometimes face) or paint splatters on her clothes. Doesn’t care about mess. Loves the rain, and splashing in puddles (also canon tho lol)

Evie: Lesbian, she/they. Super femme and obsessed with her looks at first, but I think a lot of that is just bc of her mother. I love the idea of Evie cutting her hair short, and experimenting with makeup and fashion in a way that’s true self expression, and not just trying to look pretty and dolled up. Still girly and nowhere near as rough and tumble as Mal is tho lol. But I like the idea of her being a little more tough tho. Not saying she’s delicate or anything but her mom didn’t want her to smile in fear of wrinkles, so she obviously wasn’t doing anything before that would cause her skin any damage. But imagine Evie getting in a fight or an accident and getting a scar from it. And it’s a new perceived “blemish” that her mom would freak out about but Evie is oddly proud of it. Bc it’s unique and it’s hers and it’s now part of her. So with that in mind I think she would be like “how can I change my body in a way that would make me happy and piss off my mom, without getting hurt again” lul and I think Evie would look kickass with a whole lotta tattoos! Just all over, turning her body into her own little scrapbook/collage of things she likes and finds beautiful 

Carlos: Gay, he/him. This isn’t a headcanon so much as a complaint but I HATE how a lot of the fandom perceives Carols. Like he’s some soft little whimpering puppy that hides behind his friends at the slightest bit of trouble. And that’s not him at all! Maybe he was freaked out to go back to the Isle in D2 but he was standing up to Harry and Gil in D3 and shoved Harry and stuff. He can stand his ground and he’s as scrappy as the rest of them! It’s not talked about in the movies but I imagine his mom is the Cruella with her own fashion line. And so Carlos grew up in that kind of industry knowing a lot about fashion. I imagine he’d be able to kill that one “fashion and technology” theme at the Met Gala. Making dresses that light up and change and making clothes out of recycled materials and whatnot

Jay: Pan, he/they. I think Jay should’ve had some magical powers since Jafar had his own magic, and that was before being turned into a genie. And it’s not good but I imagine Jay growing up to be kind of a misogynist thanks to his shitty dad. But he starts to grow out of that when he meets Mal and Evie and stops seeing girls as pretty little trinkets to own, like his dad probably taught him. And I know we see him on the tourney team as well but I love the idea of him being into more extreme sports. Skateboarding, bmx bikes, motocross, that kind of thing. Anything that keeps him on his feet or keeps him moving. And if it were a modern au (even though I think canon Jafar is weird and inaccurate) I do like the idea of Jay helping to run some big antique shop or something. With lots of old treasures and trinkets that he helps sell. He and Harry could run it together. I think that would be nifty. They are two characters who are tied to “treasure” after all

This was a lot and I didn’t even get past the core four but !! Here’s some fun stuff to start with sksksk hope you like ittt

[slashingdisneypasta]

Slender Brothers x Reader || Imagine

One day the Slender Brothers each turn to stone (In separate places- separate countries even) and not even Zalgo can figure out why or how to unfreeze them.

Slender's in the forest, moss and different vines growing over his shoulders and twisting around the seamless, smooth (Too seamless, and too smooth, to be man made) stone of his tentacles. His Proxies are still there, protecting the place, but they cant get everyone- pictures have been taken of the mysterious forest statue and posted online, and he's become an urban legend (in a world where he wasn't already obviously). He makes a beautiful statue... but eerie as hell. He has been graffitied a couple times over the years but those who dared to do such a thing quickly got viciously but down by the formerly mentioned Proxies, who then spend hours and hours cleaning him up again. They don't know what else to do. What can they do?

Splender is sitting wait at Offender's place (A townhouse in New York), having been there to talk to him about something important but got frozen before his brother could even get home- he now gathers dust, one leg stuck draped gracefully over the other and his long thin fingers previously edging towards a (now room temperature, ruined) cup of tea. At times, he's heated up by strips of sunlight coming from the window blinds (which remain closed all these years- Splender didn't want to give Offender any heads up that he was there lest the fucker skip town immediately like he did sometimes when he just wasn't in the mood for lectures, or 'chats'), and others he's blanketed in the cold, grey darkness of a home that was never really 'home', to anyone.

Off in a not-often visited glade somewhere in Scotland's highlands is Trender, curled up in the grass and the dirt and the daisies, facing a beautiful, imposing mountain- sketchbook still rested against his legs and pencil between his fingers. The pages have been weathered and now curl inwards but if you ever found him, which is unlikely, you could still see some faint pencil lines on the first page. Rain, lightning, snow, hail, sweltering heat, wind and a number of other natural beatings have hit him but he continues to sit there, peaceful and relaxed looking and utterly unchanged.

Offender now lives in the back of some alleyway in Melbourne. He looks like a gargoyle, all shoulders and sharp teeth. People have tried to break him, and have covered him in years and years of multicoloured spray paint that now just looks brown but he does not break. He does not shift. He stays, leaning against the wall by a couple of bins, the menacing, perfect, sharp lines of his coat and his teeth still clear as the day he was frozen. His smirk is still a warning despite his helpless state; Women who see him assume that he's a sign without a label, a bit of street art telling them to get outta the fucking alley if you want to live. You get a cold, tight feeling in your chest just looking at him.

Then, decades later, one by one... they wake up. First Trender, then Slender a month later, Offender 2 years after that and finally Splender, a good half a decade after Offender. No rhyme or reason to it, seemingly. No one had found them at that particular moment, Zalgo had given up trying to figure this out years ago, Slender's Proxies had died...

They wake up, but they wake up... different. Parts of them are still stone. Both Slender and Splender have a hand that's still totally made of stone, stuck in the position it was last in, Offenders legs is stuck entirely too straight (So he walks like a pirate), and Trender's chest is still and makes it hard for him to bend or twist.

Still, they go on with their lives. Mystified entirely as to why they lost decades of their lives and now they still weren't allowed to completely recover, but still- eager to move on with their lives.

18 years after he woke up, Trender meets someone called Y/N Who could not be older then 18 years old themselves. Not that Trender considers that at all at first and his chest suddenly... softens, again, finally. The stone cracks and crumbles away, turning to nothing but warm air before it can even slip off him. His skin and muscle is sitting right behind, like it was always there. He takes some deep breathes and clutches his chest, experiencing the long forgotten feel of it, hidden behind the sweater he's wearing (which it had been for years and years, since turning to stone), rising and falling once again...

It wasn't until weeks later that he thought to link some things... and asked Y/N when their birthday is.

Casually, they recite the date that Trender was brought back to life.

The same thing happens of course to the other three. They meet their Y/N 18 years after coming back to life and fond out that they were born that very day. Like someone, or something, some inexplicable force stopped their ageing until the person they were supposed to be with came into existance.

Basically, Soulmate AU with room for Brother angst (and fluff) in between.

Its a work in progress.

Some dot points to add:

Having Trender be the first to wake up was a a very conscious choice XD- Allows him to be the main brother for a while. I cant skip out on giving him some prime time.

And having Splender be the last is important too, as it means a n g s t. His three brothers are awake and they're wondering where the fuck their brother is (Splender would have found us if he was awake. Where is he), until Offender finally wakes up and goes home... and him. And he, (Offender), the least loving and most disgusting of them gets to find his brother (one of the only things he gives even the most miniscule damn about) sitting grey and made of stone, alone at his breakfast table. Waiting for him. But even now that he's finally home, his brother cant wake up and and greet him. Cant be happy his wait is over. No. Offender gets to sit there at the table with him instead, in his own house, and wonder what the hell Splender wanted to talk to him about. And how long it'll be before Splender wakes up again.

Obviously, Slender doesn't come to the 'soulmate' conclusion without some help. He's very uncomfortable and suspicious about, first the person Trender found, and then his own. So you're telling me, this person was born on the same day we were brought back to life? And just meeting them made your stone cracks away finally? And you don't think this is truly coincidental, and actually quite suspicious at all???

I really like that Offenders gonna walk around like a pirate for 18 years. Don't mind me XD

Yes, they all get shat on by many animals. Except Splender.

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 8

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: fluff, mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier. 

(a/n: i promise i have other writings in the work outside this fic kdsfjlajdf i maybe have part 2 of ‘Around Your Neck’ coming up............)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You spent the rest of your night trying to redial Bucky’s number. Every single time you just got his voicemail, eventually filling it to the max with pleas for him to call you back. You apologized countless times through texts, begging him to not feel bad and to let you two sit down and discuss it.

But he had really gone radio silence. 

The only real beacon of hope for you was that you could still feel him. You still felt that attachment, the connection of soulmates. He hadn’t totally pushed you out, at least. That was all you could see as far as positives. 

As you went to bed that night, the darkness of the situation was still encompassing you. Even the world seemed to be upset with it as the second you laid your head down, it began storming. 

You fell asleep to sounds of rain hitting the windows and thunder booming across the city. The nightmares engulfed you once more with no signs of your Bucky making appearances this time. Instead, the feelings of dread ran through your body. Bone, skin, blood, and all. It was like an old friend coming to visit. 

The images were nearly the same as well as the asset was back using his knives and terrorizing unsuspecting victims. You couldn’t fight but why would you? You felt lost and defeated as you were engrossed in the metaphorical trenches of the life and missions of the Winter Soldier.

***

You had only been asleep for a few hours when your phone started ringing. Slightly thankful the sound pulled you awake before you had to see another man slaughtered, you jumped up from your bed, diving for the phone. 

The screen shone brightly in the dark of night. It was him. You nearly cried out as you hit ‘accept.’

“Bucky?”

“Can you let me in?” His voice was slowly getting drowned out by the rain. You frowned, confused.

Heading to your front door, you popped your head out, looking down the stairs at the building’s entrance. Bucky was staring at the ground outside. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to let me in.” He finally looked up, meeting your eyes through the glassdoor. It was not exactly a pretty sight. He looked tormented standing there damp from the rain. You couldn’t speak, just nodded and hung up. Without much care for your current state, draped in an oversized t-shirt and sleeping shorts, you ran down the stairs. 

Once you unlocked the door, Bucky entered the lobby without so much of a glance at you. Wordlessly, you walked back up the stairs to your apartment, letting Bucky follow.

You introduced him to your apartment, showing him the couch where he could take a seat. This certainly was not how you expected his first time in your home would be but you didn’t have much time to mourn it. 

You opted to stay standing, watching as Bucky shifted uncomfortably. He wouldn't look at you yet but you could feel the anger radiating from him. You didn’t know what to do now.

“D-Do y-you want any water or something?” 

Bucky shook his head. “I’m sorry I hung up on you.”

Sighing, you said, “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I know, I know,” He insisted, sounding so defeated. He leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, contemplating. “It’s just… After yesterday morning, I thought I understood what you…you had seen but I didn’t want to accept it, okay? I didn’t want to think it was true. I wanted to believe that my fucking soulmate was learning the better things about me. Actual things about me, not...not that goddamn monster they created.”

A familiar ache came over you hearing his words. This must’ve been really a lot for him if he finally said the word. You didn’t even have time to celebrate it.

You couldn’t help yourself as you crossed the living room and took a seat next to him on the couch like something was actually pulling you to him. He was still staring at the ceiling while you turned towards him, fingers uncontrollably fiddling in nervousness. 

“I didn’t want to tell you,” you admitted. “At first they were everything in my life, inescapable. The nightmares-,”

Bucky cut you off with a scoff. “Nightmares.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, I know that’s unfair to you for me to describe them like that but they weren’t exactly pleasant,” you said. “The nightmares were everywhere and...and the feelings, the images… Even just tonight they-,”

His head whipped towards you. “You still have them?”

“Bucky, you need to let me speak.” He nodded and you tried to collect yourself before continuing, “Everything, from the emotions to the images of those terrifying things, hit me hard, and while, yes, it’s scary and it’s been scary for a very, very long time… I don’t think it should completely matter. I can’t change them - you certainly can’t change them - and they definitely do not represent the man sitting next to me in any way, shape, or form.”

Bucky's hard expression got softer at your reassurance. You had told him this yesterday morning but you felt now you were actually getting somewhere. You were getting your thoughts out there and maybe, just maybe, he’d accept them as facts.

His tone was rough but his words were soft as he began to speak again. “I told you that while you’re with me you won’t ever be hurt or have to worry.” You nodded, remembering the promise in passing. “So it kills me that I can’t fix this. I-I didn’t know about all that, really, and it’s hard realizing you’ve had to deal with consequences from my actions. You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve anything like this.”

You tried to muster up a small smile, trying to assure Bucky you were okay. He didn’t look convinced, though. 

“It’s not ideal, no,” you shrugged, “but it’s leading me to you, so, maybe there’s something in it. I think Fate knows what it’s doing, at least most of the time.”

A little smile just barely formed on Bucky’s lips. It wasn’t much but at least he didn’t look like he was ready to punch a wall in your already run-down apartment. 

“Besides, it’s not all bad,” you continued, wanting to at least bring something positive to this conservation. Bucky raised his brows, curiously. “I did have a nice dream that night after dinner. I saw you reading.”

He looked almost relieved. “I guess all we can do is hope those continue.” A beat. “I’m amazed you even allowed me in your apartment.” 

Your jaw went slack, unsure of where this statement was coming from. “Well of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

Bucky turned away and that rough look of his came back. Your attempts to lighten everything were taking a nosedive apparently, but you couldn’t ask him to avoid or suppress his feelings. You guessed it was better to get these things out in the open.

Bucky eventually asked, “How can you just be okay with everything?” 

This time, you looked away, turning to look out the window opposite of you two. The rain was still coming down steadily. “You haven’t really given me a reason to not be okay with everything.”

Your words were bold, the conversation was bold, and to keep with the theme, you boldly grabbed his hand to hold. You ran your thumb over the back of it in circular motions, trying to calm him. He didn’t pull away, thankfully. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I-I get nervous about all this.”

You chuckled softly, “Me too.”

Bucky hummed, contently. He leaned in a bit closer to you and gave your hand a squeeze. You shifted into his side, wrapping your other hand around his arm, accepting the closeness of you two. 

You decided to break the comfortable silence, trying your magic once again to carry a brighter conversation. “Why didn’t you tell Steve about us?”

Unexpectedly, Bucky chuckled lowly at the question. Your interest peaked greatly. 

“Forgive me if I just want to explore all this new territory with you and only you.” 

“New territory?”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes. “You just want me to say it again.”

You let out a fake, dramatic gasp. “James, you’re ridiculous.”

You heard him chuckle. His body shifted slightly closer to you. “I want to explore this… this soulmate thing with you. Only you. At least for now. Down the line, I have no problem showing you off but for now… It’s us.”

Soulmate. Us. 

The words rang happily in your ears. Now it really felt real. Him acknowledging it truly, wholeheartedly, and not just in the heat of an argument made shivers run through your body. 

“Us,” you repeated, a goofy grin unable to be suppressed came about on your lips. “I’m okay with that.” You let out a bit of a dreamy sigh. “You know, this all feels really new and really old at the same time.”

Bucky chuckled, “I think that’s how these things work, right?” His other hand came to lay on top of yours gently. “We feel like we’ve known each other for years because, well, I think in some twisted way we kind of have.”

You contemplated the idea, realizing you felt that very deeply. You had and had not known him for almost your whole life. While Bucky wasn’t in the exact form you learned about him in, there was something within him, the actual him, you felt you knew like the back of your hand. 

“We need to go out again,” you finally said, worried continuing with such sentiments would make you emotional for the millionth time tonight. Bucky seemed to welcome this change.

“Are you asking me out on a second date, sweetheart?”

Butterflies filled your stomach. “Well, you weren’t making any move to do it,” you shrugged, shooting Bucky a playful look. He responded with a dramatic eye roll. 

“Maybe I like a woman who takes charge,” he said, shooting you an award-winning, knowing smirk. 

You gasped, your neck suddenly getting hot. Actually, you felt much of yourself getting warm from the little innuendo hidden within his tone. Words were suddenly getting lost on your tongue as your brain short-circuited. You mumbled, “A second date could definitely be fun.”

Bucky let out a room-filling laugh at your sudden nervousness. The twinkle in his eyes told you he would enjoy making these little teasing comments to you from now on. 

“How about tomorrow night, doll? Good night for a second date, don’t you think? Assuming you actually want to see me after tonight’s fiasco.”

You nodded, ignoring his self-deprecation. You couldn’t talk it out of him so actions maybe had to speak louder. “What should we do?”

Bucky waved a hand in dismissal. “You let me handle it. I’ll surprise you.”

“I thought you liked it when a woman took charge?” Now your smirk was just as evil and mischievous. Bucky raised his brows in surprise but rolled with it. He had quite the silver tongue you found. 

“Sure do,” he said, “but a man still has to make sure he takes care of his lady, too.”

You giggled and cozied up into his side, very much enjoying the sound of that. “Fine. Take the reins, Bucky.”

[glassessence]

Modern Soulmate AU | Watanabe

M O D E R N   S O U L M A T E   A U   |   W A T A N A B E

-- You see in black and white until you meet your soulmate. --

There have been violent protests for days now and this morning graced us with a magnitude 5.9 earthquake. Suffice to say I’m feeling a little ~shooketh~ (pardon the pun; I’ll show myself out haha). 

Anyway, I’ve been writing a lot of angst lately and wanted a change of pace. I love the idea of soulmates, so here’s an AU featuring university professor Watanabe. I’m super tired at the time of this posting so grammatical tenses are all over the place. I’m sorry. I zoned out so hard during this that it’s half stream of consciousness lmao.  

Also, it’s in dot-point format because I have no time to write it into an actual oneshot *cry* Also, if anyone cares, here’s what I have planned for future instalments in this series: 

CEO Lee | Secretary Reader

Pop singer Kamui | Backup dancer Reader

W A T A N A B E   |   U N I V E R S I T Y   P R O F E S S O R

Watanabe has seen in faded colours since the start of the semester. He knows his soulmate is a student, but doesn’t know who.

It’s not until you stay behind to ask him a question that it happens. He turns to you and his world bursts into riotous technicolour. Your world explodes into colour, blues and greens and yellows beyond your wildest dreams.

For a moment, both of you just stare at each other. Watanabe is speechless, blown away by the colour in your cheeks and the light in your eyes. You’re backlit by the soft afternoon sun and all he can think of is how beautiful you are.

You’ve always considered Watanabe handsome but unattainable. You’d always figured someone like him would be taken. All the good ones were. 

But now, he was your soulmate. The knowledge feels impossible and knocks the very breath out of you. 

“It’s you,” Watanabe breathes, so quietly you barely hear him. His hand reaches out. Long fingers are inches from your face when he seems to remember himself. He drops his hand. Clearing his throat, he asks you how he can help.

You’re so shocked at the blazing colour of the world that you’ve forgotten your question. “N-Nevermind, professor. I’ve gotta go.” Heart hammering and face flaming, you rush from the room as fast as you can. 

The next few weeks are super awkward. You’re not sure how to talk to Watanabe and he seems to be avoiding you. He rushes out after every lecture and doesn’t meet your eye. Even though your world looks so beautiful now, it feels grayer than ever.

Watanabe feels miserable and impossibly conflicted. He wants to get to know you, to hold you and kiss you. Knowing you were out there alone was a pain he could hardly bear. 

“You’re kidding,” Bruce says over beer one day. He eyes his lonely friend. “Keep it secret, Watanabe, but you have to do something. This doesn’t just happen to anyone, you know.”

You stopped going to lectures, unable to stand the reality of Watanabe purposefully ignoring you. Was it because you were a student? Or… did he have someone else? The very possibility of another woman filled your heart with envy. 

Noticing your absence, Watanabe grew concerned. He was a university professor, after all. Regardless of whatever bond connected the both of you, you were still his student. 

He reached out to you via email. Y/N, I haven’t seen you in lectures lately. Is everything okay? 

Your response was curt. Thank you for checking in, professor. I’m fine, just been feeling a bit unwell lately. 

Guilt shot through Watanabe. It seemed it was your turn to avoid him. He knew he deserved it. His heart ached. Bruce was right. Something had to be done. I see. I don’t want you to fail the subject.  I think we should have a catch up over coffee to discuss your progress.

Your heart skipped a beat. Was Watanabe asking you out on a date? Or were you reading way too much into it? Regardless, you dressed well. The day was bright, warm and sunny. You’d grown used to the brilliant colours, but still took immense pleasure in seeing the autumn leaves fall. 

He was dressed in a casual button down and slacks, long hair knotted at the back of his head. Handsome without trying, as usual. You eyed him warily. He’d made his intentions clear so far. You didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot. Still, something in you ached for his touch. You tore your eyes from his lips. 

Watanabe admired you. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you, but seeing you again up close, he was taken aback by your eyes. “You came,” he says simply. “Of course,” you reply casually. “I don’t want to fail the subject, after all.”

Watanabe quirks a smile. “I’d certainly hope not.” The two of you sit down. The conversation is initially focused on your academics and all the content you’d have to catch up on. However, it soon spirals into something else. You make him laugh, a deep rumble that kindles something in your soul. He possesses a sharp intellect that you’re desperately attracted to. Time passes in the blink of an eye. 

“I should go,” you say, gathering up your things as the sun is setting. The sky is overcast, pregnant with heavy clouds threatening rain. “Yeah,” he agrees. “My bad.”

“No,” you counter boldly. “My pleasure.” His eyes widen, but he looks away. He says nothing, but the disapproving frown tells you enough. Your smile fades. “Watanabe...What is this?” His answer is bitter. “Wrong,” he says.

Hurt and anger burn in your chest. “Wrong?” you echo. You point to your eyes. “You think this is wrong?” You slap your palm to your chest. Your voice breaks. “You think this is wrong?”

“No,” he growls, frustrated. “Never. But I’m a professor and you’re a student. I can’t take advantage of you.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me! This is meant to be! I-Is there someone else?”

He stares at you in disbelief. “No, of course not. I just...can’t.” You bite your lip. “I can’t bear to be around you,” you say softly. Raindrops splatter onto the pavement. “I’m going now.”

You turn from him and walk into the pouring rain. Watanabe runs after you. “At least let me take you home. You walked here, right?” You keep walking, trying to ignore the magnetic pull of him. “I’m fine.”

“Dammit woman,” he says, voice low. He grabs you by the arm and forces you to face him. You have to look up to see his face. “Why are you being so difficult?”

Something in you cracks. “Because,” you say heatedly. “I can’t bear to be around you! To want you so much it hurts. To want to touch you and kiss you and be beside you. To know that you’d rather be alone than with me!”

“That’s not true!” he roars back at you. “I want you. So much. I want to leave my marks on you and make you my woman. But I can’t! People will judge you and I won’t allow that.”

“Fuck them,” you reply. “You’re just a coward, Watanabe.”

His hold on you loosens in shock. You take the opportunity to break away. The sky was black now and the rain showed no signs of relenting. You hated how brightly the moon shone and how beautiful the night was under her silver touch. 

Suddenly, a hand pulled you back. Lips touched yours, warm and velvet soft. Watanabe kissed you deeply. His tongue snuck into your mouth, twining with yours like long-lost lovers. His hand curled into your hair. The other encircled your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. His breathing was heavy. “I’m not a coward,” he whispered in your ear. “I just don’t want you to suffer because of me. Others might not understand. They might attack you. I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I could never,” you answer softly. “Never, Watanabe.”

The two of you made it back to his car. But it was a good deal later into the night that you returned home… 

[mythicmalasada]

i’m starting a thing called imagine your main genshin team in a modern au going to disney world together

headcanon dump (feel free to rb and add how u think it would go for ur team!)

lumine’s been there before with aether, so she knows how it all works. no one else does

xingqiu buys one of those hidden mickey book guides at the airport and hones in on it for the rest of the trip. he’s absolutely dedicated to finding all of them

bennett gets stopped at airport security on the way there because there was a water bottle in his backpack and they almost miss their flight

lumine warns them they’ll get dehydrated pretty quickly and chongyun immediately overheats and they have to stop inside an air conditioned shop and buy him a $15 water bottle

there’s a pool at the hotel and bennett cannot stop for 10 minutes to sit on a lounge chair and just relax. everyone else is tanning and he gets up to go buy a water gun

thus ensues a drenched, murderous xingqiu woken up from his nap and lumine/chongyun chasing the two of them through the pool so xingqiu won’t kill him

bennett makes them take pictures together Everywhere because he never wants to forget the trip

xingqiu and chongyun at the hotel go to buy candy at the vending machine in the middle of the night and start chasing each other down the hallway and lumine pops her head out of the door like wHAT ARE YOU DOING ITS MIDNIGHT

xingqiu absolutely has one of those spray water fans on a necklace and a fanny pack and the fan is ALWAYS going

bennett has to talk to every single dressed up cast member he meets and he’s 100% convinced they’re real

bennett: oh my god mike wazowski!!! how are you how’s monsters inc the minimum wage worker in an oversized fursuit: 

lumine gets really competitive over the buzz lightyear fp shooter game and it scares everyone else

++kazuha wears sunglasses and is drinking from one of those refillable park cups the whole time even on rollercoasters and every pic they get of him on a ride looks exactly the same 

lumine goes batshit insane wanting to ride every single rollercoaster, methodically dividing up each section so they can ride every one before the park closes

bennett picks out little souvenirs that remind him of his friends back home so he can bring them back something

chongyun tries to sit out on half the rides and the rest of them bully him into getting on 

“oh you’re scared huh? this one’s too tall for you is it? that’s alright, we can get another round on the frozen ride” “wait-”

xingqiu rides the peoplemover like 20 times because he likes it and they’re all begging to get off

xingqiu likes the stupid intellectual rides like carousel of progress. absolutely fascinated

xingqiu pretends none of the actual rollercoasters scare him when in reality he’s petrified of everything from expedition everest to the teacups

bonus points if chongyun’s like “we can’t go on that it’s crazy we’ll die” and xingqiu’s all “oh you big baby haha wimp” and they get on and xingqiu clings to his arm frantically

xingqiu’s the only one small enough to fit on a kiddie ride so they force him to go on alone and take pictures of him as he goes around like 😐 

bennett makes them wait on line for the river safari ride for an hour and as they’re next in line it starts to rain and they close it down

coasters stall on at least 3 separate occasions because of bennett

bennett developing an odd fascination with all of the mickey shaped foods

chongyun finds out there are several ghost related attractions (haunted mansion, tower of terror, etc.) and drags their asses there

“what the fuck??? those are holograms” “what on earth were you expecting”

chongyun (at first) doesn’t understand they’re not real spirits and tries to be heroic by climbing out of his cart and charging at the ghosts screaming FROM WHENCE YOU CAME

they’d all get matching mickey ears to wear around the park

they go to one of those theme restaurants and xingqiu gets called on to stand up and interact with the characters and literally freezes. nope. he won’t do it 

bennett stands up for him. spoiler alert it’s fucking hilarious 

bennett is like :D the whole time completely without dignity and their entire table is in tears

lumine falls asleep on the shuttle ride back and bennett lets her sleep on his shoulder

chongyun gives xingqiu a piggyback ride on the way back to the hotel because he’s tired

not a headcanon but just. i miss how foreign and comforting hotels and hotel rooms feel when ur on a trip

bennett befriends a lizard outside their hotel room and tries to take it back on the plane with him

he gets stopped Again in the airport going home and lumine turns around like ‘what now’ just to see bennett wrestling with a security officer over a small lizard in his backpack pocket

i think they’d all really enjoy the fireworks show/fantasmic. sitting there in quiet awe watching everything light up around them :)

i really liked doing this because we’re in quarantine and i haven’t left the house in *checks watch* 12 months or so and i miss amusement parks and interaction so i hope it made u guys happy !!

[purvishraick]

BLOODBOUND

Absence Pt 1

Fanfiction : Bloodbound (Choices)

Pairing : Adrian Raines x Amy Richard Parker (MC)

Warning : mentions of death , cursing

Rating: PG - 13

TAG LIST : @adriansdeadwife , @otherworldlypresents ​  , @evelynistic ​   , @silma-words ​ , @fireycookie , @lauren-raines-x , @nala-raines

If anyone wanna be tagged in future do let me know….

masterlist

its been too long since wrote anything. i just couldnt get the perfect inspiration to write anything but now i am finally back. I promise my other series will also be updated very soon.

There might be a few errors . sorry for that . constructive criticism is always welcomed .

p.s.- this is a mini series taking up from the incidents after the battle at the met with gauis and then following mc's death. This takes place in same AU as 'a tale of always and forever' .

Absence.

The lack of something or someone.

It is easy to describe the theoretical meaning of this word, but when it comes to experiencing it, it is not easy at all. Infact it is anything but easy.

But absence.

It is all he is left with.

The absence of her is everywhere he looks, its like a huge whole has been punched through his heart, but in a way it is the only way to remember she was real, that it was not his imagination.

He was afraid that the only good he had in his life was fake, he was afraid that he might realise that this was all dear imagination.

But in a way he wanted it to be a dream, cause if it was a dream he will wake up to her beautiful face and her heavenly smell, then he can forget all the things that happened.

But now fate loved to play with him hated to see him happy. Him being happy was something that the world hated. Something that he couldn’t be. Something that he could never have cause it wasn’t meant for him.

By now Adrian has accepted the fact that he could never have what his desired and this heart desired happiness, it desired love, but now how can he get that wouldn’t that be against the world.

He could never be happy while the only thing no -scratch that- the only person, that made him truly happy that made him whole was not with him and now could never be.

He held her, held his world, his happiness, his Amy in his arms as the life left her eyes and she pleaded not wanting to go.

When she closed her eyes it was like she took something with her she took a part of him, a part of his soul, of his heart.

Now standing in front of her grave, after burying her, it all hit him with a force, a force so strong that it crushed him, it crushed his already broken soul.

EVEN DEATH HAS A HEART

AMY RICHARD PARKER

1995 - 2021

A DAUGHTER , A SISTER AND AN AMAZING FRIEND

That quote, she read him from the book ‘the book thief’ and instantly declared it as her favourite, he never knew why she loved it so much. According to him death was cruel and had no heart, it was ruthless, it was something that took so much from him, but to her she noted death as a new beginning a change to meet their lost ones, the ones who were never forgotten by time and a chance to have a new start, finding peace.

But he didn’t believe that even a bit she wasn’t supposed to leave them she was supposed to live, there was so much for her to see and so much to learn she was taken to early from them.

Adrian didn’t realise that it had started to rain and he was drenched until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned back to see it was her eldest brother Christopher.

“ you should go back its been a long a day , you should rest , I and Nathaniel will make sure everything is done here. “ and gave Adrian a slight sympathetic smile.

He couldn’t say anything but give a slight nod , but how could he say anything to this man in front him, he just lost his sister, he lost his princess, the girl he grew up with, the girl he practically raised by his own hands. He knew his grief was greater than anyone else’s.

‘ how can Christopher stomach to look at me let alone show me sympathy. After all I failed to protect his sister. I am the fucking reason his sister is dead, I promised him to protect her but I failed. Guess it runs in the blood, just like Amy, Chris also have a big heart. ‘ he thought to himself.

Chris told him that he understands that what Amy did was her choice. He said that he knew no one could have stopped her cause he knows who stubborn and protective she is for the people she loves. He said that ‘it runs in the blood’ , and laughed at it.

He started to make his way back HOME- no scratch that- there is no home now, there is no home without her.

Going back a pair of tear stricken red eyes met his similar ones.it was her middle brother Nathaniel, that boy was devastated and broken. Those once lively eyes where now blank. Nath’s eyes were fixed on his sister’s grave like he was still trying to process everything.

Lily was slumped against the tree, it was difficult for her to see her best friend like this. She saw her die and then saw her little left hope got crushed when Amy didn’t turn into vampire. She was broken.

Kamilah was trying to be strong but he saw it in his sister’s eyes that in a very less time Amy secured a special place in her heart and she was affected deeply by this.

Jax didn’t come to the funeral cause be said that attending it would force him to let her go and make it all to surreal for him.

The most difficult part was when they had to tell her family about what happened to her. He remembers that Nath picked the and it was on speaker. There was a 15 min silence on the line after they broke the news to them and the silence was broken by a heart wrenching sob and a huge crashing sound. Apparently Nath let out the sob and Chris threw the entire vine rack down on the floor.

It was easy for none of them.

Now Adrian had to deal with the next step that came after this 'GRIEVING' .

~ P ❤