#wip: flow state

[kalied0skull]

stuck in a state of feeling like water

[fandumbass]

chat we're so fucking back

[maareyas]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

IM USING ALL MY BRAIN POWER FOR THIS

[gravitasmalfunction]

My biggest toxic trait is believing that if I just try hard enough I will spontaneously discover the optimum state of mental stimulation and then remain there for the rest of my life.

[kataracy]

surfboard.aang

[alectoperdita]

Ooh do you think audiance!kaiba would be the big nerd he is and ever request jou to cosplay as a DM monster? 😂 Or maybe crossplay with jou in frilly skirts, garters and thigh highs or is he more vanilla in the sense he just only cares about seeing dick & hole lol hfkjdf?

Hmmmm. I'm kinda sorry to say that Audience!Kaiba is probably more on the vanilla side. In general, his taste in porn is mainly around finding a nice dick and maybe hole that can get him hard easily enough and he doesn't mind jerking off to. Part of it is he doesn't involve a lot of fantasizing in his porn habit, at least until Jou.

It's not that he's incapable of engaging with more imaginative play but he has to relearn the emotional/psychological component of sex after treating it as mainly physiological release. And right now, at this stage of the story, I think he's mostly just enjoying knowing that it's Jou on the other end of the line. So stuff like cosplay or crossplay would likely distract from that.

(Still debating if Kaiba should send Jou a fantasy dildo at one point, so stuff like Bad Dragon, which would be either fun or hell to write.)

[branmuffins22]

Masha and the Very Normal Nocedas for WIP Wednesday please!

Thanks for the push (and sorry for the Late)!

"Where'd you guys even find something that old?" She stalled a bit, and then took on a stilted, somber tone, "…Under a floorboard, in an abandoned house. Amity stepped through it and found a sealed box down there, with the rebus inside." [Snorebord: y'know, she really is a lot like luz] [Pentagrammatic: what makes you say that?] [Snorebord: chronically suspicious] [Pentagrammatic: ah. true] Whatever she was omitting, it seemed a bit heavier than they meant this conversation to be, so they tried to change subject as best they could.

[flowersforthemachines]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Thank you @rookamell and @woundedsoul12 for tagging me <3

I'll be tagging @mythals-whore @skullypettibone and @cute-ellyna if you'd like to share something this week :)

I've done some gratuitous Bellara-posting over the last few days, so I might as well top it off with a snippet from a mid-canon Bellara/Ghilasara fic I've been nibbling at since last week. The "doing something vaguely romantic as a "practice" for Bellara's writing" set-up may be banal, but also too good to pass up on, in my opinion ^_^

#wip: flow state

“It’s a kiss scene,” Bellara blurts out. "The one I have trouble writing." “Uh-huh.” Rook closes her book and puts it aside. “What’s wrong with it?” “It’s like I can’t get a feel for it. At all.” She gets up from her chair, hoping that maybe a switch from horizontal to vertical can also become a switch from the stuck-state to a flow-state.  Doesn’t help.  Still worth trying.  “Irelin and I didn’t break up all that long ago,” she says as she paces around. “I should still remember, you know. What it’s like. But I don’t, somehow. Drawing only blanks.” Pacing gives her space to wonder why exactly she was so hesitant to ask for Rook’s help. The phrasing is all but begging for Rook to talk about her own experiences; it’s not like there’s other help she can offer. But somewhere deep down, there is a part of her that doesn’t want to think about Rook kissing other people. She doesn’t want to think about that part. “If you are out of practice, why not get some?” Rook asks.  “Where?” She blinks. “I don’t think there are places where you can get practice kisses from strangers. Well, actually, there are, maybe. But I wouldn’t know.” “Never heard about those, personally.” Rook shrugs. “But I’m right here.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Doomed to Repeat 1

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

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: After a painful divorce, your wary of men, that is until Bucky Barnes needles his way in. (older!reader)

Same universe as this.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

I know it's Steve week but this doesn't count. Shhhhhhh.

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

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

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

Your flat slips off your heel. You drag your foot to get it back on, the arch of your foot twinging as you flex the muscle. Don't stop. It's a jungle out here. New York slows down for no one, even the shoeless.

You dodge around the oncoming stampede, clinging to your modest assortment of groceries in the crinkling paper bag. It's a tight wire walk back to your apartment as you're crowded on all sides.

You're invisible among the city's rush, as you are in most rooms. You've aged past relevance. You don't mind so much, at times, the obscurity is your best ally.

You follow the flow of pedestrians across the fading white lines of the crosswalk. A taxi honks, a whistle goes up, and sirens echo somewhere down the block.

"Hey, lady!" The voice startles you. Are they talking to you. "You dropped this?"

You look down in a panic. You feel your purse on your hip. It can't be you.

You spin and a man's shoulder bounces off of yours. You stagger, struggling to keep your balance as the bag tears down the front. The man barrels past you. Just like he didn't see you, he didn't notice the speed bump of your existence.

You look down as several items fall onto the pavement around you. You get down to gather them up, watching helplessly as your loaf of sourdough is crushed under the feet of passerbys. Pigeons flock to devour the ruin.

"Ow!" The same man blusters.

You glance over your shoulder as you put the block of butter atop the load still in the bag. You see him hit his ass on the sidewalk as another man marches past him. You cower as you realises he's coming toward you.

He stoops to scoop up the small wheel of gouda wrapped in wax. He's agile and undeterred by the tides around him. He squats down in front of you and places the cheese in the bag. He surveys the damage to the paper.

"Some people got no manners," he mutters.

"You don't have to..." you protest as you stack the groceries carefully. "I can manage, sir."

You look up at his face and blink in recognition. You feel oddly intrusive, stalkerish. Most people would recognise him in the city. You know him from a couple books stacked on your second shelf.

You shake it off. "Ahem," you clear your throat. "Thanks, sir. I'll get it."

"Here," he slides the bag away from you and puts the open side against his chest. He lifts it easily. You rub your lower back as you straighten up. "Got it."

"Oh, no, you can't... it's nice but..."

"Don't mind. I got nowhere to be right now."

You stare at him, trying to contain your doubt. War hero, state representative, and avenger has nothing going on? You're more than certain Bucky Barnes is full of it.

"Really," he insists. "Point me in the right direction." He glances around. "Stay close. Don't wanna lose ya."

"Um, alright," you surrender. Don't trust strangers, you're well past that lesson, but he's not exactly that, is he?

You give him one last look. He wears a pair of dark aviators and he's dressed down in a denim jacket and dark slacks. Still, you see right through it, even with the cap over his hair.

You turn and continue forward. He's close as he walks with his shoulder just behind yours, the bag rubbing on your arm.

"I can tell you know who I am," he drawls. "Can I get a name?"

You nod and look ahead into the sea of people. You recite your name on habit alone.

"I gotta commend you on your choice in cheese. I like the brand, but I'm more partial to their havarti." He says.

"Oh, um... yeah... I'm supposed to cut back on dairy..." you murmur cluelessly. "Not that you would... you know, I don't think groceries are within your purview. You probably have more important things to deal with."

"Not right now," he repeats.

"Here," you point up the alley.

You turn and he follows. You reach into your purse, instinctively looking back as you search for your keys. You pass under the fire escape and stop at the door. You step up the creaky old stairs and shove the brass one in the slot. He lingers behind you.

"Think I can take it from here, Representative Barnes."

"Bucky, please. I'm off the clock."

You face him and reach for the bag. He makes no move to hand it over. You step down the stair between you. "I got it."

He stares at you, a dimple in his cheek.

"You've done your good deed and helped an old lady carry her bag," you assure him dryly. "You're free to go."

You wrap your arms around the bag. He lets go and you cradle it carefully to balance the contents. His gaze makes you sweat. Or maybe that's the hormones.

"Old? You're spry as a spring chicken," he chuckles.

"Uh huh," you lift a brow. "Well, you carry your age much better than me." You back up and awkwardly extend your hand from beneath the bag. You twist the key and push inside. You pause just past the door. You angle back. "Thanks again, Bucky."

"See ya around," he says your name. "You know, I think the big thing these days is those reusable bags. Sturdier."

"Thanks, I'll see what I can find," you nearly snort. "You should probably get back to the rest of your constituency."

"Gah, guess I gotta," he spins on his heel. "I did swear some oath or another."

He strides off down the alley, a casual slant in his shoulders. You watch him, almost amused, leaning back to keep an eye on him. You're envious. He's gotta be twice your age, technically, and he looks more than a decade younger. You're not so concerned with your looks but you wonder if maybe that serum of his might help with the menopause.

He stops at the end of the alley. He looks back and waves. You flinch, caught, and hide inside. You let the door shut behind you and harrumph at the staircase ahead of you. Your knees will remind you that his words were just flattery.

🌆

"This week, let's focus on the upcoming assignment. Reflect on the last few lectures when discussing the pre-war foundations for conflict. Remember, this isn't just about military force, this is social, economic, and cultural. Try to weave together the world when contextualizing your thesis."

You speak to the Zoom classroom split into a grid of faces. Your students look well past their limit and you have to admit, you're there. "And don't forget office hours and that my email is always open for questions." You smile. "Until next time. Have a great week everyone."

A litter of byes come as slowly the students trickle out. You miss the in-person format but everything is shifting, everyone is moving past you. You weren't always this stagnant. Once, you were a blooming flower. Now, you're wilted and content to sway with the breeze.

You exit the meeting room and log off. You make a few notes for next week's lecture then put your laptop to sleep. It's after five and you're tired but you can't keep finding excuses. That walking pad is going to get dusty and the doctor said exercise will help with the hormones. Most of his recommendations only add to your discomfort.

You go into your bedroom and change into some running shorts and a loose tee. The effort of lifting your arch tugs tightly. Your shoulder's still sore from the other day. That guy really knocked you around. You rub the tender muscle and sigh. 

You're not a sprinter but you do work up a sweat at a brisker pace of walking. You stretch as you look for a podcast to listen to. You enjoy the one about the tragic monarchs... always a nice companion to your own suffering.

Before you can hit play, a dull thumping gives you pause. You move closer to the door. Mr. Kryzcky opens his door with a grunt.

"Oh, hi, I was looking for..." the voice drawls your name. "Think I got the wrong one."

Another grunt from the old man next door and the slam of his door. A soft laugh sounds. You go to the door and keep the chain on. You think you remember that voice, from more than just your unlucky meeting.

You open up and peek out. Bucky glances over and turns to face you with a grin. "Ah, there you are."

"I'm here," you say skeptically.

"I didn't have your number so couldn't call ahead," he comes closer. He's in one of those nice suits you see him wear at his press conferences. His long hair is parted and combed back away from his face.

"Okay?" Your confusion inflects upwards.

"Right, uh, I guess maybe my clearance won't work everywhere," he chuckles. "I wanted to check in."

"Check in? Well, I'm just fine, Representative."

"Bucky," he corrects. "How's the shoulder?"

"Not as strong as yours," you nod to his left arm.

"Yeah, you're standing a bit..." he raises his hand and angles it. "You're favouring that side."

"I take advil," you shrug and wince. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting you."

"I didn't interrupt dinner, did I?"

"Uhhhh, nope. Just... not quite sure you can call it a workout but I was going to get my steps in," you say.

"Have you eaten?" He wonders.

You frown. You exhale as you shake your head. "I just got done class."

"Class? What are you taking?"

You snort. "I see why people like you."

"Some," he snickers. "Can I buy you dinner? I'm here and... starving."

Your eyes list over. You consider the offer. You're wary of it. Not quite sure why he'd come back. Did you give off that vibe? That you're desperate for company? You get lonely since your husband left but you've adapted.

"I don't like eating alone and if I don't eat in a car, I'm eating in an empty condo," he snorts. "So... have a little pity for an old war vet?"

"Playing on those heartstrings. You about to ask for a campaign donation?"

He snickers. "Maybe next time."

"Right..." you slowly shut the door and slide back the chain. Before you can open it again, your chest stirs. Your place is small, a bit cluttered, but not dingy or dirty. Still, it's been a while since you had company. Well, you never did here.

You open up and step back. Bucky enters as he smooths his hair. You shut the door softly. He bends to unlace his leather shoes.

"You don't have other friends? Like Cap?"

"Sam? Nah, he's got a girl." Bucky slips his foot out. "And he's always cranky when he gets back in town. You know, he really puts up a front for the cameras."

He takes his other shoe off as you look down. You hide one leg behind the other. The shorts are meant for the privacy of your home.

"I'll get changed." You sidle away.

"Don't gotta dress up for me. You know, if you wanna do your workout, I'll just muddle around," he stands up and slips off his jacket.

"Um, no it's fine. Later." You retreat quickly to the bedroom.

You pull on a pair of loose pants over the shorts. Good enough. As you emerge, you find Bucky at the large antique bookshelf against the far wall. His back is to you as his head is tilted. You cautiously cross to him.

"Where'd you get this stuff?"

You near him and look over the disarmed pistols; a luger, an enfield, and a colt. Below, there are a few grenades and some empty shells. Your collection is small but a point of pride.

"Around." You say.

"A collector?"

"Suppose some would say a historian but I just teach it."

"Ah, class," he points his finger. "Right."

"I guess seeing this stuff like this must be a little... weird for you."

"Mm, not really. Need more room on that shelf, I won't fit." He taps it and laughs. "So, dinner? In the mood for anything?"

"Didn't think about it." You slowly inch away.

"Pizza?" He suggests.

"Can't go wrong." You agree. "Let me find my wallet."

"My treat," he insists and peers around. "Just you then?"

"Um, yep." You cover your barren left hand. "More room for books."

"Makes sense," he clucks and pulls out his phone. "Pepperoni?"

"Whatever you like." You reply. You won't mention that it gives you heartburn. He offered to pay after all.

"I'm more interested in what you like, so... you a veggie girl?"

"Girl? I don't think anyone's called me that in a while," you scoff. "Cheese is fine with me. I'm easy like that."

"Music to my ears," he taps the phone. "Spend all day trying to please everyone..." He turns as the line picks up. "Hey, could I get a large double cheese..."

You watch him for a moment. It's not just who he is. You just never thought about having a man here. The thought of just speaking to one gives you anxiety since the divorce. It feels like an intrusion but not just on his part. You feel like you've gotten in his way.

[writingmeraki]

be there when I wake up — k.mg drabble.

❝ in which you love mingyu in all states of your mind, whether sober or drunk out of your limit.

( or it seems even when you're drunk you don't recognise him but you still love him with your whole heart. )

pairing : secret agent! husband mingyu x secret agent! spouse reader. warnings : mentions of alcohol and being drunk, hangovers, reader almost has a breakdown (?). genre : fluff, romance. a/n : more of them, I can't get enough I have too much to write on them😔 let me know what you think of this 💌!! not proofread (this was very random pls I am absolutely NOT procrastinating my other wips, ignore errors pls it's lit 5am 😴 )

word count : 1.3k

part of this au !

It felt like you were on cloud nine, feet light as you walked and head filled with nothing.

Being drunk tends to do that to you at least.

Today, when Mingyu and you got your well deserved day off, he decided it was time for you to be the one to let yourself loose.

Not that he never did let you but usually you were the one who assigned yourself as the designated driver whenever it was just you two. Though being as thoughtful as he was, he made sure to never be too hectic for you to handle if he could do it himself.

And even then, he'd still do his best to stabilise himself albeit the attempts were always hilarious but the thought counted.

He held you tightly by your waist to his side, making sure you didn't fall or wander off somewhere because see while he was the type to be the clingy drunk, not leaving your side, you were the carefree one, wanting to fly away, perhaps even quite literally.

As your husband and more importantly lover, he did not want to entertain the idea of you hurting yourself by accident. Luckily, all the gym hours he’d spend building his muscles to impress his one and only lifetime crush (read:you) paid off, because you used him completely as a support to walk, leaning all your weight on him.

Your cheeks were warm, eyes half lidded, now the pain in your cheeks was prominent from smiling so much, it seemed you smiled more when drunk than sober in a few months. It wasn’t because you were emotionless but rather only smiled to those who deserve it, which was only a handful of people. Your husband is on the top of course.

Speaking of your husband, you suddenly paused in your steps, remembering him. Realising you were clinging onto someone, you pushed yourself away, smile dropping and being replaced by a frown while you glared.

Mingyu blinked once, twice, a little startled from being pushed away and even more when he saw your glare.

“You shouldn’t hold some stranger like that, mister.” You could make out the silhouette in front of you, but the face was a blur. The classic case of drunken forgetfulness.

“Babe-”

“BABE? Are you crazy? Only my husband can call me that! Which by the way.” You put out your left hand, pointing towards the shiny ring. The shiny ring he got you. “See!I’m married!”

“And-and I am very happy with my Gyu, I don’t need you- or or anyone courting me- I am very happy with my relationship sir.”

Fuck. Why did you have to say it like that?

He couldn’t stop the grin on his face, there was no way he could even if he tried to. Only you could make him feel like the first time he'd ever have a crush on someone. His heart raced, almost too fast. He swears he can feel his chest fill with even more love.

“Okay, okay how about I get you to your car?”

“No mister! I re-refuse I don't want to go with you, where's Mingyu? Where's Gyu???”

You were whining at this point, finding your legs too tired so you ended up just sitting. Right in the middle of the pavement.

Mingyu’s eyes widened when you sat down but even more in panic, the smile dropping as he saw you bring your hands to your face.

You were crying.

“Where's Gyu? Did he leave me?” A hiccup came after the sentence, as your vision got more blurry with the tears flowing even more freely.

He rushed towards you squatting beside you, pulling you into his side.

“Honey, I'm here. Shh. I'm here.”

You looked up from your position, making sure to blink to clear out the tears and there he was. Your husband.

“Gyuuu” Your words slurred and choked up as you threw yourself at him. Him immediately wrapping his hands around you, still in the sitting position.

Your arms looped yourself around his neck as you put your head in the crook of his neck, still crying.

“I thought you le-left.”

“I'd never. I would never leave you.”

“Please don't.”

Slowly, he got up, pulling you gently up as well, still holding onto you and your entire weight now leaned on him.

“Come on, you wanna head home?” You pulled your face away from the nook, looking up at him as your sobs stopped turning to sniffles.

He moved one hand to hold your face as he caressed your cheek, pushing your stray hair strands behind your ears with delicate touches.

Your eyes began to droop, the side effects of being drunk slowly overcoming you. You just simply nodded as you put your head back to his comfy shoulder.

Sighing, he shook his head as he noticed your breathing slowing down, coming out in slow exhales, meaning you just passed out drunk.

He softly smiled as his hand still caressed your hair. He wouldn't have it any other way.

[ bonus cut : the following morning ]

You were sure this was your karma catching up to you because the way your head was splitting was surely due to your supposed horrible past deeds. There was no other reason.

“Good morning sunshine~”

“Zip. Shut. Shh. Not a word.”

Mingyu frowned, pouting at your harsh reply, but a small pity formed as he saw you wake up while holding your head in pain.

“That's mean.”

“Not mean enough, I will actually kill you.”

Being the ever so doting husband he was, he'd gotten up from your shared bed, made breakfast, your favourite food by the way, and even gotten ready for the day.

“Have this, you'll feel better so that maybe you can plan my murder better hm?”

And now there he sat down beside you on your bed, a painkiller in one hand with a glass of water.

You grabbed the water like you had never touched it in your existence, gulping it down along with the pill,even if it ended up spilling onto your clothes. You frankly don't care.

Mingyu gazed at you with the same adoration he always had. He loved you at all times, anytime. He just knew that he loves you. He didn't think he said it enough.

“I love you.” You almost choked on the water, gulping it down before it sprayed out. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Can I not say I love you to my spouse?” He honestly felt offended at the suspicious look on your face.

“Alright…”

Now it was his turn to squint at you in question, as if waiting for something.

“I guess I love you too.” You were pulling his leg, you loved to see that look on his face where it seemed as though someone had stepped on his tail. Like a puppy who’s tail had been stepped on by mistake

“I don't even want to talk to you. Bye.” He snatched the empty glass, glaring at you now, you knew it was not with any sort of malice, you knew him. He turned around, purposefully stomping and then you couldn't stop the laughter.

You burst out in giggles, clutching your stomach, the headache subsiding.

You threw off the blanket and rushed after him, hugging him from behind, hands barely wrapping around his large frame but it did stop him. You placed your face sideways on his back.

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding, I love you. Like surely. One hundred percent.” You said still chuckling, the grin on your face not faltering.

He wasn't even upset in the first place, because the moment he heard your laugh, his own grin formed widely on his face.

“You mean it?”

“I do. Always did. And will.”

And perhaps this was what it meant to be loved. And to love.

for my dearest @etherealyoungk ; THIS IS A VERY VERY LATE BIRTHDAY GIFT TO MY WIFE 🫂 ( blame that on the fact that this was totally not what I planned to write for ur birthday 😔) I love you so much and I can't believe we got close this soon <3 I wish I could have known you before because it feels like I know you since so long, you're literally my soulmate like??? i hope you have an amazing year ahead soo here is ur fave couple as a present mwahh (mine too lowkey)

perm. taglist ( open ! ) : @mansaaay ; @gyuguys

( if you want to be added just send an ask/reply to this !)

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌 !

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist ! | info !

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

BABY GIRL

Pairing - Jackson Rippner x fem!reader

Summary - Jackson likes to keep you doped up for both of your safety.

Warnings - Non-con, dub-con, drugging, manipulation, degrading, p in v, edging.

Word count - 1.9k+

Notes - Guess who wanted to work on one of her WIP's but decided to watch Red Eye and just had to write another one about my favourite boy.

You laid on the bed, completely naked against his body, he only wore his boxers, your left leg draped over his hips, his hand slowly caressing your back as your face was pressed up against his lean bare chest. 

The audio of the television was muffled, your sight blurred as you slowly breathed in and out. The sheets were hardly covering your flesh, but you were too dazed to pay attention to it. The sensation of his large fingers caressing your tender skin was enough to earn gentle moans from your soft lips. His cold blue eyes watched you like a hawk. Almost skeptical that you would commence a ploy against him, despite your doped state. 

Jackson Rippner was fascinated by you. The moment he saw you, he knew that you would be his. It was unfortunate with the circumstances you met under. Star crossed lovers in his opinion, a bit of a spiced uniqueness to your relationship.  

You were assigned to investigate him for terrorism. Many times you were warned about your high levels of ambition, your eagerness put you in danger. But you were always too stubborn to listen to your superiors. 

“Jackson” you murmured against his chest, almost drooling. He sighed lightly, his hand rubbing circles around your lower back. 

“Yes baby?” He asked softly, there was silence for a brief moment. Jackson waited patiently for you to respond as you raised your heavy head. 

“Are you going to keep me drugged up forever” you slowly questioned, your eyes ached to stay open, your thoughts blurred with sweet nothings. 

There was this blank, emotionless stare from him. As he was questioning himself, he really did wonder what he’d do with you in the long run. The thought of him keeping you mindless for the rest of your days made the blood rush to his cock. Only being mentally capable to muse the thought of him touching, fucking, loving you. 

But then he also wanted to take you out for an expensive dinner, vacate at a ski resort, hold you from behind as you cook him a loving homemade meal. Jackson never considered himself a romantic, but different people create a better you. The idea of having a life as one together made his heart flutter. 

“No baby girl” he answered eventually. 

“When will you stop” you breathed out, a small smile on your lips, a thread of hope. There was a small grin on his lips as his hands gently rubbed your hips. 

“When I know you’ll be a good girl for me” Jackson mocked, pulling you completely over his hips to saddle him. 

“I am a good girl” you countered, your head felt heavy yet your thoughts light. 

“Because you’re drugged up” he laughed softly, his large hand caressing your cheek as your face fell limp on him. 

“Touché” you snorted and he patted your cheek a couple of times. Sluggestly, you lifted your head back up, looking at him with innocent eyes. “Please sir, I promise to be good” you assured, but your small smile was all so devilish. 

That title always got the blood flowing to his cock. You could already feel his size growing underneath you. 

“Really? You cross your heart, hope to die, type of promise?” Jackson razzed, flashing you a toothy grin as his fingers slowly moved closer to your core.

“Yes sir” you promised, batting your eyes towards him. 

“Oh baby girl, how can I be so sure?” He toyed, titling his head to you. 

The scratches on his face were faint. Whenever he sobered you up, you were quick to get in every shot you could at him. However, you were foolish not to carefully plan out your scheme to escape, or as you preferred to do, attempting to kill him. 

“Because I love you cock Jacky” you moaned, his fingers toying with your clit. 

Within a blink, Jackson had flipped you onto your back. Holding your throat down against the mattress and huffing, flaring his teeth at you. “What did I tell you?” He snarled, his thumb rubbing over your chin.  

“You hate being called Jacky” you choked out, but you were still grinning at him. 

“And I thought you wanted to be a good girl” he pouted to you. 

“I do” you almost sang, coughing at the restriction to your throat. 

“Fix your mistake then” Jackson ordered calmly. 

“Because I love your cock, sir” you choked out, emphasizing the correction. With the release of your throat, Jackson sighed. 

“That’s a good whore” Jacksont grinned at you, flexing his hips forward. You pouted to him. “My good whore” he corrected himself, dropping his lips onto your neck.

It was pointless, trying to deny the sensation Jackson always brought over your body. It was too much effort to try to hide the pleasure he always bathed you in. 

This is where you belonged, underneath him, figuratively and literally. 

In small circular motions, his tongue swished over your heated skin, his hands ran slowly up and down your torso, his fingers playfully scratching at your nerves, his stubble tickled you. Your arms gradually enveloped around his back, your fingernails scraping at his skin lightly. 

“I’ll always take care of you baby girl. You know that right?” Jackson asked as he pushed his boxers down enough to free his throbbing length. 

“Yes, Jackson” you breathed out, laying your head back carelessly. 

“Could have gotten you killed, interfering with my business, like a little fucking brat. But I saved you…” Jackson grinned as he lined himself up with your gushing entrance.  

“No Jackson” you shook your head, moaning out softly as he gently pushed himself inside of you. 

“Who are you lying to?” Jackson snorted as he rested himself completely inside of our canal.

“This isn’t living” you countered, your hands rising up to the back of his neck, your legs raising up to your hips in unison.

Jackson couldn’t help but to laugh as his hips snapped back and forward. His lower lip was stuck in between his teeth as he searched for the perfect pace and speed.

“For someone who is constantly high, you sure as hell are conscious” he remarked, his hands holding onto your sides.

“I was always smarter than you” you murmured, biting onto your lower lip. 

Jackson laughed gently as his teeth nipped at your earlobe. 

“Yet look at where you are now. Be my good girl, I want to spoil you rotten. Don’t you want those things?” He toyed, his fingers rubbing your sensitive bud. 

“Yes Jackson” you answered emotionlessly. 

Most of the time it was easier to give him what he wanted, your complete submission. You were always so weak, tired, feeling out of body. The effect his touch had on your body was the biggest punishment. If you weren’t always so high, you’d be heavily humiliated with how badly you craved him. The control he had over your body was frightening, he was your puppeteer, always pulling on your strings despite how desperately you tried to cut yourself free. 

“I want to give you the world” he professed as he found the perfect rhythm to fuck you to. 

“I want to kill you” you whined out, face twitching as the high stimulation took over full steam ahead.

“No you don’t, you could never do such a thing” he mumbled, his hands pinning yours above your head. 

“But I’ve tried” you groaned as he hit your cervix. 

“And that’s okay” he assured you, kissing you in a sloppy manner as if to comfort your distressed thoughts. “You’re learning to be my good girl, yeah?” Jackson asked, teasing your bundle of nerves as he kept your pleasure swimming by the edge. 

“Yes Jackson” you shamefully admitted, your eyes swelled with tears as his thrusts became more painful. 

His mouth fell open into a large smirk at the sight of you crying. It was one of his favorite looks of yours. Over mere seconds, your tears formed into a stream as you sobbed underneath him. The clarity of your predicament washed over you once more. 

“Yeah, you’re so fucking pathetic. Acting like a tough, stuck up bitch. But you’re nothing but a little whore for cock, my cock to be precise” he grunted, feeling your walls clench around his throbbing size.

The sounds of your troubled moans always felt like a melody to him. The mixture between your logical and sensual thoughts left you in shame. Jackson kissed you deeply, your mouth was wide open but you refused to kiss him back. The taste of your tears made him growl like a wolf.

“Fuck, your director would be so disappointed in you. Everyone thinks you’re fucking dead. So get the stupid thoughts of breaking free out of that little mind of yours” he sneered, his free hand holding your chin in place as you tried to turn your head to the side. 

“Stop talking Jackson” you whimpered, desperately trying to focus on the pleasure and not his taunting words. 

“No one is looking for you. I have no tails, nobody cares about me. Only you did, you felt it too from the beginning, just like I did, our connection” he grinned as his balls slapped against your entrance. 

“Shut up Jackson” you whined as you felt your climax build. 

But Jackson loved watching you cry. It was amusing to watch your emotional strength crash, it was pleasing to look at your humiliation. A wonderful reminder of how reliable you are on him. Jackson loved to pull your strings around, to keep you on your hands and knees as he yanked you across the dirt. 

“Bet you wanted me to steal you away from your useless life. Now your biggest stress is wondering how many times you’ll get to squeeze my cock each day” he moaned out, kissing your tears away. 

“Shut the fuck up Jackson!” You screamed out as loud as you could, your weak body thrashed under him but it quickly left you exhausted. 

“Someone’s getting sober” Jackson pointed out with a grin, holding you down effortlessly. “Might just keep you tied up instead, I like your screams” he winked to you. 

“Please stop, please, please” you begged repetitively as he continued to fuck you senselessly. 

“Then tell me what I want to hear” he sighed, his hand combing back his damp hair from the sweat that trailed down his forehead.

“N-no” you shook your head, you could feel him twitch rapidly inside of you.  

You knew exactly what he wanted you to say. It was the thing you hated doing most. He always wanted you to say it when you were so close to finishing. 

“Please” he toyed, playfully begging you as he kept your built orgasm dangling from the edge.  

“Come on baby girl, make me feel good” he grunted as he smacked your rear. 

There was another weak shake of your head so Jackson held his body still inside of you. Pathetically, just like he always described you as, you whined out at the pressure built in your core. All you wanted to do right now was come undone, feel something good in this torture. But Jackson stared at you sternly, menacingly. His hands pressed down on your hips as you tried to rock yourself around him. 

“I-I love you” you admitted, your cheeks beet red. 

Instead of fucking you senselessly like you assumed he would. Jackson pulled himself out and jerked himself over you. Quickly, his white ropes of semen sprayed over your sweaty stomach. You panted, looking at the mess he made on you as your distressed expression made him chuckle silently. 

“I love you too” he replied blankly. 

As you caught your weak breath, Jackson laid his body on top of yours, his fingers touched your sensitive core, gently teasing you. You moaned out, ready to do anything to free yourself of your painful climax. 

“But so, drugged or tied?” Jackson cocked an eyebrow to you.

[papurgaatika]

Pink In The Night

Pairing: Din Djarin x f! reader

Minors DNI with my work please!!!

A/N: this came to me in a moment of insanity. I love him so much. This was supposed to be less than 1k words, but I truly got carried away. Thank you to my lovely beta reader @carlynkurin! This is semi dedicated to @joeloverture bc vetty did not let me add it to the WIP folder and somehow I finished it in a day so that's neat Once again sticking with the song lyric as the title brand, it is Pink in the Night by Mitski this time LOL. As always, peace and love on the planet Earth from me, and I hope y'all enjoy !!!!

Tags: smut, idiots in love, devotion, oral (f receiving), reader’s skin is called tan and reader has a bush, no other description, semi subby Din, tit worship, lots of semi-religious metaphors, pet names (sweet/pretty girl, my moon, my sun) Din worships reader, reader worships him, soft, established relationship, tooth rottingly sweet, no use of y/n, 18+ Word count: 3.7k

Summary: A night’s serenity with Din has you enveloped in each other.

There was a moment of peace you found yourself in tonight, the sun was low in the sky, not quite setting but it had started to move west. Your toes were dipping in the small creek just beside your home, ripples ebbing and flowing with every movement you made. You could hear the coos of Grogu behind you as Din kept a watchful eye on your son. You laugh softly as Grogu falls to the ground with an unrefined oomph probably exhausted from being allowed to run around all day. You glance at Din with a smile, and he feels like he suddenly can't breathe. 

God. that smile of yours. It always gets him and he can't explain why. You just felt like home to him. He moves to sit beside you, armored shoulder bumping your bare one, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the day  “Hey you,” you grin, toes wiggling in the water as you move to lean against him a little more. His arm moves to wrap around you, the leather of his glove somehow rough but soft against your skin simultaneously. 

“Hey pretty girl,” he hums, voice still tender even through the modulator. His fingers run aimlessly over your shoulder, feeling the warmth of your skin. “You’re gonna catch a burn” he mumbles, moving his hand to brush a stray lock of your hair off your neck to get a better view. 

You snort at him slightly, letting your eyes close in contentment as he touches your skin. “I don't burn, just get tanned” You can feel his unamused gaze, even through the helmet. You knew the look he was giving you. It was the same one he gave you when you refused to sit down when your feet hurt, or when he asked if you had eaten anything when your head ached. 

“Your skin is warm to the touch, meshla” he states, leaving absolutely no room for argument. His hand trails over the curve of your neck and traces the outline of your jaw softly, relishing in how soft you are compared to him. He wanted to memorize every curve of your body, never to be allowed a moment to forget them. “Let’s just go inside, the womp rat is already asleep on the blanket anyway” You both glance back at Grogu who sure enough, had tuckered himself out all day and was now curled up on the small blanket you had set up for him. You make a small noise of affirmation and let Din scoop him up, before you bring your feet out of the water, letting them dry slightly on the ground before walking in after Din, and shutting the door softly. You watch with a small smile as Din tucks Grogu into his bed, relishing in the domesticity of it all; being in your home, watching your husband tuck your son into bed after you spent the day in the sun with the both of them. It was something you would never get over. 

Din steps out of Grogu’s room, helmet discarded by the main door, and finds his eyes locked on your figure. There was so much love in those eyes, so much pain, and hardness, but when you saw them all you could feel was warmth. The chocolate brown of his eyes, deeper than any ocean, warmer than any fire, felt like home to you. He raises his now gloveless hand to skim the skin of your shoulder, brows wrinkling together a little as he feels the skin still warm under him. “Meshla you’re still warm” his touch was so soft, almost like he thought you would break if he was any firmer. 

You give him a light-hearted roll of your eyes as he ushers you into your bedroom, backing you onto your bed with an ungraceful thump “Din it’s not a burn-” you laugh softly at his insistence, but he wasn't having it. He makes quick work of removing his armor, the sound of beskar soothing to your ears before he turns back to face you. 

“Take off your shirt” The bluntness of his words catches you off guard for a moment, your mouth opening and closing with a lack of words. 

You can see him biting back a smirk at your falter “Baby what-?” you gape at him. It wasn't that you didn't want to, you were just absolutely baffled. 

“Take. Off. your. shirt,” he repeats himself, emphasizing every word. “I'm gonna put lotion on you, you’re too warm.” and there’s that smirk. You roll your eyes at him tossing off the soft tank top and throwing it in his direction before laying down on the bed on your stomach. 

Din could die a happy man right now. He thinks that if the maker struck him down, right this instant, he would be okay with it. The sight of you, relaxed on his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of loose shorts, waiting for him to use his hands on you was almost too much for him to bear. He moves to sit behind you on the bed, essentially straddling the backs of your legs, and grazes your back softly. Mapping out the freckles and dips of your skin, tracing the soft tan lines, just in awe of you every single time. 

He lets out a shaky exhale before taking a bit of the lotion into his hands and massaging it softly into your back, feeling your body instantly relax at the coolness of it “Is that okay pretty girl?” he whispers, hands pressing gently down your back and shoulders, feeling the curve of your spine. You nod your head, face resting on a pillow, and peek up at him with a small content smile. 

“Yeah.. yeah it's nice Din..” you murmur at him, voice low and solace. You felt him continue the motions on your back, hands almost reverent against your skin, almost as if you were the beads of a rosary he was slipping between his fingers. His hands slip to your lower back and brush the waist of your shorts, a silent plea hanging in his touch. You lift your hips slightly, letting him tug them off with a touch much too delicate for someone who has been hunting bounties for years. 

You coo slightly when his hands rub lotion onto your ass, his touch featherlight and tentative. “Is this okay?” you hear him ask, your response coming out in the form of a silent nod, eyes closed enjoying the feeling of his hands on you. “You’re always so soft. So perfect..” his hands continue their tender movements, hands slipping between your legs and grazing your thighs but never touching your heated core, he was going to drag this out for you. “Stars…” he admires “you’re so... perfect... so beautiful…” his words are less for your ears and more just his internal dialogue being voiced. His hands continue down your legs to your ankles and then back up, tapping your hip to get you to roll over. 

You turn over, body laid bare for him. The evening sun peering through the window had your skin bathed in warmth. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, a lazy smile at the sight of him. Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, the feeling of his beard coarse against the smooth skin of your palm. He immediately leans into your caress, seeking more of you, wanting to envelop himself in you completely, to give himself up to you as much as he can. His eyes gaze over the sight of you laid out under him, the way your breasts rise and fall with each breath, the tan lines on your skin, the curves and dips of your body. He was going to memorize you, to be yours completely. “Can I touch you?” 

“Always Din..” your murmur leaves no room for argument and sends his head reeling. He shifts so his clothed hips are pressed against you, and his face is nestled under the curve of your breast. You sigh as his warm breaths hit your skin, just watching him admire you. His hands trace the curve of your waist and his lips dip to the valley between your breasts. He licks a small stripe between them, eyes drifting shut, relishing the way you taste. Your eyes are slightly hazy, overwhelmed with the sight of him practically revering you. His lips move to press kisses over one of your breasts, lips tentative and gentle before he takes your nipple between your lips, a pleased sigh leaving your throat. 

He feels a jolt of electricity rack through him at the sounds you make, the sounds he makes you make. His lips leave your nipple, moving to the other one. He hums around it, your back arching at the sensation. His tongue swirls and flicks at the sensitive peak in his mouth, his hand softly tweaking and kneading the other breast. “Maker above” he groans, pulling off of you with a pop, “I love these so much. Stars you’re perfect” his hands go to massage both of them, thumbs sliding over your nipples making your breathing tremble slightly 

“Feels so good Din..” his hands haven’t stopped their ministrations, moving softly and gently as ever, taking his time to make you feel good. He grins at your words, the praise going straight to his cock, but that could wait. He just wanted to make you feel good today. 

“Yeah cyare? You like my hands on you?” his hands don’t still as he asks, his face pressed against the soft of your stomach, peering up at you. 

Your back arches again as he presses a few kisses under your breasts and across your ribs. “Yeah baby” you sigh “like when you’re soft with me..” 

He thinks his brain short-circuits for a minute. Din was not known to be soft. He was the hardened bounty hunter turned marshal of Nevarro, a stone-cold killer, nearly undefeated. But not to you. He was the man who rubbed the bottom of your feet when you had been standing too long, a caring father, the love of your life. He was softest when he was with you when he was in the presence of someone who made him forget what his legacy was and allowed him to be himself. 

“I’ll be soft..” his words are barely audible with his face pressed into your chest “I am yours..” he keeps his lips pressed against the skin of your ribs, his hands still cupping your breasts. “Always yours,” he mumbles as his lips find your nipple again, taking the pebbled nub into his mouth and letting his tongue swirl around it. Your hands fist in his hair, not pulling, just grounding him and yourself in each others’ touch “My perfect girl... my everything..” his words were slightly slurred, getting drunk on you. “Stars.. I want to taste you” he looks up at you, his pupils dark and blown, lost in his ecstasy. His hips grind down slowly against yours, his need taking over involuntarily. 

Your lazy sighs and moans fill the room, mingling with the sounds of the bugs and townspeople outside of your window. His lips trace their way down your chest, following the path down your abdomen, licking small stripes against your skin as he goes. “So good to me din..” you sigh, lips parting and eyes fluttering as you glance down at him. 

He lets out an uneven breath, his brown eyes drinking your body in. He sits up slightly between your legs and swallows roughly, as he takes in the sight of you. The sun was practically making you glow, casting a halo of gold around you, your lips were parted and red from biting at them. “You’re so beautiful my sun… so so beautiful” You feel your skin warm at his words, despite how often he praises you it never ceases to make you melt like putty in his hands. He can see the reaction on your face, the slight flush of your skin stirring something possessive and needy inside of him. “Kriff-” he makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper, “kriff i need you, i need you my sun,” 

You huff out a warm laugh and he thinks that it was warmer than the heat of any sun he had been in the presence of. You were his sun, you were his entire galaxy. “Go on in, I want you too my moon,” your words are soft, gentler than he thinks he deserves, but you never use anything other than that soft voice with him. 

“You’re sure..?” his hands trace over your thigh. Despite being fully bare and needy in front of him, Din is always sure to ask, never wanting to overstep, never wanting to hurt you even if by accident. His eyes are searching yours, looking for any sign of second guesses or hesitance, but are only met with utter devotion and need 

“I’m always sure” you whisper gently, looking up at him like he had personally set every star in the galaxy out there for you, like your entire heart and soul were his, and his were yours. He didn’t need to be told a second time, his lips finding your skin once again, tracing the same path down your body, licking over the ticklish skin of your belly button, nipping gently at the skin of your hip, until he’s hovering right above the coarse curls nestled on your body. You twitch slightly at the brush of his stubble against your stomach, your hand stroking through his hair absentmindedly. 

He lets out a small rumble of affection as he watches your chest rise and fall from his place between your legs. His mouth moves down to the curls just above your aching cunt and presses soft kisses into them, breathing in the smell of you. “You smell so kriffing good stars-” he practically whimpers at you, your breath catching as your hips jerk up inadvertently, yearning to catch some of his touch.

“Maker I love these” his lips continue to press kisses at the hairs on your mound, your skin heating at the praise, before his lips move slowly down, teasingly slow, before they press down over your slick folds. His nose nudges you open softly, and you cry out hands tightening in his hair, when it bumps your clit. “Smell so fucking good, bet you taste so perfect for me too ” he whines as his tongue lays a flat stripe against you. 

There was that filthy mouth of his. Somehow managing to be both incredibly sweet and debauched at the same time in ways that made your head spin. His tongue laps at you, gentle kitten licks at first, before it starts to work in lazy circles against your clit. He lets out a hum of laughter when your hand tightens in the sheets, a moan breaking out of your chest when his lips kiss and suck on that bundle of nerves. “Taste better every single time, Sun” he murmurs, collecting your slick on his tongue. 

“Stars-” your voice breaks in a whimpered moan, the feeling of his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses over your cunt making you writhe in his touch. His tongue darts out to lap at the slick that practically drools out of you eagerly like he was getting ambrosia straight from the gods. You tasted heavenly, and he simply could never get enough. He moans into your skin every so often, the vibrations sending shocks that go down your spine.

 The hand that wasn’t holding your hip was entangled with yours, his fingers rubbing your knuckles in a tender caress. The soothing motion is almost second nature to the two of you, one you use during any moment you can spare. “Maker” you cry out when his beard scratches the soft skin of your pussy, “all for you din, I’m all yours.” your words send a rush of possession through his body, his tongue lapping at you faster, almost like he was claiming you as his. 

His tongue goes back to dart at your dripping hole, pushing past your entrance and moaning at the taste of you. He flicks his tongue in you a few times, your back arching in response before he pulls off of you. He looks ragged with his mouth covered in your wetness and his hair clinging to his forehead, while sweat drips down his skin. “Maker above you taste so fucking sweet.. my sweet girl.” 

He moves back down, lips fervently attached to your clit, pulling moan after moan from your mouth. Your legs tremble as his mouth focuses on its new target, and you feel the coil inside you tightening, bringing you to that peak. 

“Oh, shit-” you cry out as your legs tighten around his head, a hoarse moan leaving his mouth at the feeling. “Din, baby fuck, I'm gonna cum-” Your breathing is unsteady, coming out in sharp pants and gasps. 

“That's it sweet girl” he hums into your skin, tongue never stopping its rapid movements “cum on my tongue baby, let me taste you, sweet girl” Your cunt pulses as you cum for him, his tongue working you through the high of your orgasm. Your sounds are like a choir in his ears, and if lack of air between your legs killed him he wouldn't mind, it would be an honor to die like that. The combination of those, coupled with how damn sweet you taste, had him rolling his hips into the mattress searching for any sort of relief for his aching cock. 

Your eyes are hazy as you come down from your climax, your legs going limp on the bed. You can see Din rutting into the mattress, a new burst of arousal flooding you. “Din.. baby… I want you..” you practically purr at him, voice dripping with almost as much need as your cunt. Your words raise a guttural whine to leave his chest, his breathing labored. 

“Please,” the tone of his voice is almost one of supplication, begging you for salvation “Please, I need to be inside you, please-” your hands are already making quick work of undoing his belt, your need for him primal.

His belt comes off with a click and you can feel yourself drooling at the sound, almost Pavlovian how quickly you react “Din, please please I want you, baby put it in I can't wait,” your own pleas match his in desperation. Both of you yearned for each other in ways that were incomprehensible, in ways that could keep you whole for the rest of time simply if you could bask in the shadow of the other. 

Din pulls his pants off, throwing them somewhere across the room, and you finally see him. Thick and pretty as ever, dripping pre-cum, practically throbbing and aching to be inside your warmth. You shuffle your hips down so he can line up with you, shaky exhales leaving both your lips when he drags the heavy weight of him over your sensitive heat. He gathers some of your wetness on his cock, coating it before he slips into you, curses flying out of both of your mouths. “Fuck Din,” you cry out as his tip pushes into you, the familiar stretch of him making you ache for more. He pushes into you further, making your toes curl and one of your hands grabs at your breast. 

“So good for me,” he groans out, pushing himself further, almost lost in how good you felt around him. Tight and wet, molding around him like you were made for each other. He pushes himself in all the way, buried inside you to the hilt, and it was like a puzzle piece. You were crafted just for him, and he was for you. There was nobody else for either of you. 

Din sinks down on the bed, his hips flush against yours, only propped up on an elbow to keep from crushing you under him. “My perfect girl..” he sighs, not thrusting but simply rocking against you. “My perfect fucking girl... I love you I love you I love you” he nestles his head on your shoulder, pressing kisses on your collarbone and neck. He snakes one hand around your waist, pulling you up to his body, chests pressed together, and you cling to each other. 

“Your girl..” you sigh, your hips moving gently, the friction of his coarse hair against your clit giving you enough stimulation to feel that familiar peak building slowly “Your girl.. Yours..” his lips move against your skin, his touch and presence engulfing you the way that you craved with him. 

His hips move a little faster, his need for you evident in the way his fingers grip you. “So kriffing beautiful like this.” he cries out, biting your collar gently “So perfect… so good under me like this..” you can feel his hips growing a tinge frantic, his orgasm building after who knows how long of staving it off to focus on you. You let one of your hands drift to your clit, not even needing to move your hand, just needing a slight bit of extra pressure while he moves inside of you. 

“I love you, Din. I love you so much, I love you,” you cry out as his movements turn to shallow shaky thrusts, his lips parted against your skin in silent prayers to you. “Cum with me, please I want to feel you, I want you in me, I want to be yours Din.” your fingers move gently, pushing you over the edge towards your climax. 

The feeling of your walls clamping down around him pushes him over with you. His cock twitched inside of you with groans and cries of pleasure leaving his mouth as his cum fills you. “Perfect fucking girl,” his words are blubbering sounds, mostly coming out between gasps and moans “Take me so well, made for me.” 

Din rolls you on top of him, letting you both catch your breaths while you cling to each other like it would be physically painful to be separated. His hand strokes up and down your back, skin warm to the touch but not for reasons he could think to criticize. Your eyes droop, the pleasure and feeling of domesticity seeping into your bones. “I love you, my moon.” you coo at him, sleep taking over your body. 

“I love you too, my sun..” he replies, his own body beginning to doze off, his hands still wrapped around your body.

[postboxrose]

WIP wednesday! (late as always </3)

I was tagged by @miraabellee and @luzial and @buriedknight (holy shit thank you) and this time I'm doing drawing-wip first, then fic-wip under the cut! how about that!

(i call this one "the awful aspect ratio" because its almost unpostable in its current state lol <3)

also tagging: @elynnism (happy birthday!), @contessaxchaos, @alice-dead, @nananarc AND I'm using my privilege of answering this late to tag @miraabellee @luzial @buriedknight for next week. hope that's okay. it IS my birthday, too >:)

meanwhile xviii. the moon is almost finished and I hope to post the last chapter sometime next week! snippet belowww

There was indeed a joke to be had, for coffee had been a ritual they had introduced her to, one chilly autumn afternoon, almost immediately after he had joined the Inquisition. On a clearing behind the Chantry of Haven, she'd found him sat upon a bench in Josephine's company, and delighted in the way their accents swelled and thickened around each other, as though any moment they would burst like berries and he'd speak Tevene while the ambassador would flow in her Antivan, as though it would not stop them from understanding each other at all. Their hands had held this thick black liquid, foam lazily following the gestures of the conversation, and when she'd accepted the offered cup she had not known that the rich sour taste could jolt her heart with such relief, like basking in the sun, surrounded by friends. They had not arranged with the roastery for her sake—she had only been a useful name and a lucky casualty—and this had only comforted her more. It had been too soon to call him friend, he'd been but a stranger, and so had he pretended to be close to her from the very start, he'd have only been among the many grasping for a Herald to place in a pocket or tuck up a sleeve; indeed, he'd been honest in using her name for his gain, and this shameless practicality had only made her trust in him soar. Like everything in nature, for something real to begin, it had to first not exist; that he could joke about it was in itself a sign of the trueness of their bond, the self-evident honesty of friendship.

[tellmegoodbye]

Hello everyone! I wanted to do a bit of a "WIP checkup" in which I share a snippet from all of my wips and update you on how they're going.

This is a queued post. I am currently away on vacation and I will look at all of your posts when I get back!

---

Sports Fic

Title: "the memories we leave behind"

“What are they doing?” Jonah can hardly contain his excitement as he grips the seatback in front of him, giggling as he points down towards the skaters on the ice. They look so small from where they're sitting up in the nosebleeds, but the distance doesn't seem to matter to Jonah, who is seemingly entranced by the game he barely knows anything about. There's a huge smile on his face as he watches every face off, every line change, every shot, clearly trying to decipher everything that's happening. “They're trying to get the puck in the net,” TK explains, pointing to where the New York Rangers are currently swarming the Dallas Stars like bees, their offense fluid and fast paced – as is the nature of the game. “We're rooting against the green team. Remember?”

This fic is a bit on and off again at the moment, but I'm still enjoying writing it! I have no prediction for when it might be finished as it is not a priority at the moment. This snippet is brought to you by a new scene I added, inspired by this headcanon.

Spicy Fic

"Do you want me to take care of you now, my love?" Carlos’ voice drips with adoration, smooth as he speaks slowly, carefully, and commandingly. There's a hint of teasing in his tone that he keeps a tight hold on, always waiting for TK to guide him and tell him what he needs. They don't always do this with the pretense of sex, and tonight certainly wasn't a night where TK was having anything that would even resemble a horny thought, but he feels so light inside of his own body. His blood flows through his veins like honey, desire simmering beneath the surface, but not with purpose. There's no ache. No rush. No need. But TK thinks about these ropes coming off before he can fully silence the darkness, he hears the way Carlos' voice dips and feels the way his body reacts on instinct, and he decides that it doesn't matter. He doesn't just want to hide away in freefall. He wants to float. He wants to feel everything that is good and right and wonderful, and Carlos is clearly willing to help him do that.

This fic still has an incredibly loose outline, but it is my first venture into writing a D/S dynamic and I'm just kind of going with the flow for this one. I hope to finish this one soon, especially since @heartstringsduet has been my biggest cheerleader for this fic and has been giving me endless motivation!

Detective AU / Murder Mystery Fic

The bullpen is smaller than he's used to. The absence of the New York City chaos cycling in and out of the room is evident. The ever-present, steady stream of chaos keeping the building alive on an unstable fuel is muted and mellow in comparison, reflecting the nature of the state of Texas. Slower, calmer – even in its capital city. TK thinks he might just like it here after all.

This one is regrettably, extremely slow moving. I've been putting a lot of pressure on myself for this one because it's an idea I've had for years, and I want to take my time with this. It's definitely overwhelming, and there's no chance of me finishing this in any less than a few months, but I think it will all be worth it in the end!

Super Secret Angsty Fic

Title: "sinking in slow motion"

He attempts to look again, and a sharp pain pierces through his skull like a sleek blade, barely noticeable until it hits him all at once and he has to let his head fall back against the concrete again, wincing at the sudden movement.

It’s no use. He isn’t going to be able to treat himself down here. He runs through the checklist in his head, skipping over what he can’t do and focusing on what he can.

Keep pressure on the wound. Check. Slow down your breathing. Check. Check your heart rate. TK lifts two trembling fingers to the pulse point on his neck, undoubtedly smearing some of his own blood against his skin as he presses down.

Fast, but steady. Check.

This fic is brought to you by The Angst Train, aka the collaboration I'm doing with @certifiedflower and @neversleepuntilfive 👀 who I have immensely enjoyed working with. I'm so excited to finish this and share it with you all for @911lonestarangstweek at the end of the month!

Therapy Fic

“Hey, babe,” TK greets him, his voice faltering when he catches a glimpse of the laptop Carlos so ungraciously tossed to the side when he walked through the door. “What are you reading?” “Nothing,” Carlos says, immediately realizing how unconvincing he sounds. He avoids TK's knowing gaze as he stares towards the ground. TK slowly comes towards him and sits next to him on the couch, close enough to be there, but putting enough distance between them so that Carlos can decide whether or not he wants to have TK in his space right now. “Well that wasn't suspicious at all.”

I admittedly have not worked on this one in a while. I can't even remember if I've shared this snippet before. I don't think I have, but if I did I apologize. I'll get back to this one once I get some of these other wips finished.

S1 Carlos Fic

Images of the man who laid in his bed for the first time, his silver medallion stark against his heaving chest – a symbol of his family from before, begin circling Carlos’ mind as he slowly digests the gravity of such a revelation. He isn't as close with his own father as TK is with Owen, but he couldn't even imagine the pit in his stomach that would open up if he were to learn that his dad had cancer. “I'm sorry, TK,” is all he can think to say. He knows it can't help much, but he hopes it's enough. He hopes he can offer some sense of peace for someone who's gaze he can't seem to escape, his eyes brimming with tears that threaten to fall, Carlos’ dim porch light reflecting off of shimmering green oceans. TK looks about as lost as Carlos feels, his weary figure standing against the backdrop of the night sky and empty streets. His vulnerability is vast, and Carlos aches to protect it.

This fic is also low priority, and since it is essentially a collection of moments throughout season 1, this one is probably going to take me a while to write.

Tagging: @strandnreyes @paperstorm @bonheur-cafe @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @ironheartwriter @emsprovisions @sapphic--kiwi @literateowl @eclectic-sassycoweyes @captain-gillian @thisbuildinghasfeelings @alrightbuckaroo @theghostofashton @freneticfloetry @everlastingday @carlos-tk @henrygrass @carlossreaders @rangersoup @futures-tense @heartstringsduet @goodways @whatsintheboxmh @lightningboltreader @welcometololaland @liminalmemories21 @reyesstrand @butchreyes @firstprince-history-huh + open tag

[out-there-tmblr]

Wip: Zaundads2EB (10)

***

Vander,

(That's how Silco's letter starts. Not with any fond endearment, no. Just Vander's name. Like he's woken up in the middle of the night and started complaining about Vander stealing the blanket.)

I've traded rations for paper and pencils. I don't yet know how I'll get this message to you, but writing this gives me the illusion of being able to do something, so I'll work that out later.

I'm in Stillwater for minor theft, apparently. No one can tell me how long I'll be here or if there's any way to dispute my sentence, so it's not greatly different from working in the mine. Do as you're told and be thankful for something to eat and somewhere to sleep.

There seems to be only two divisions of prisoners here: those who haven't attacked guards and those who have. The latter are kept in the lower floors, in solitary stone cells until the guards decide they've learned their lesson. The rest of us sleep four to a cell, in metal bunks that feel very familiar.

There is a small yard with high stone walls and smooth walking path worn into the bedrock. In fair weather and foul, we're left out there for two hours a day with nothing to do but walk in a circle, or stand against a wall and marvel at the colour of the sky. This island must be as elevated as Piltover. On a sunny day, the sky is the brightest blue imaginable. In bad weather, the clouds are so dark it feels like home, but when the rain falls, it's clean enough to drink.

(There's a line on the page, maybe two words long. Then the letter starts again as if Silco came back to it hours or days later.)

You might be amused to hear there's no washroom here. When I asked about it, my cellmates laughed. That does explain the smell of the other prisoners and the state of their clothing. We are fed once a day, stuck in cells that leave the four of us absolutely no privacy, with no better entertainment than to watch a square of sunlight pass across the floor, but I could accept all of that if we were simply given the opportunity to bathe. I have started hoping for rain.

(Vander has to stop reading. He can hear Silco's voice in the words. He knows the sour glare Silco would aim at the page as he wrote. There are still more pages to go, but Vander takes a moment to let the tightness in his chest pass, the ache of missing Silco sharp and brittle. He wanders over to the doorway, peers around to check that Felicia's handling everything, and then leans against the wall and keeps reading.)

I hope you found my notes and followed them. I would remind you that the Tensheer (Damacian wine) and Dauntless (sugar, flour, salt) are arriving next week, but I doubt this letter will get to you before they do. You will either manage without me or you won't, and there is nothing I can do from this cell to influence that.

I have started rationing how often I write to you. A paragraph a day seems miserly but it gives me something to think about as I wait for time to pass. Hour after hour, and there is nothing to be done. If I did not share this cell I would pace back and forth like a caged animal – but surviving such close quarters is only possible when we all avoid annoying each other.

I hope Connol has managed to divert the water to the Lanes by now. I hope he managed to finish the boiler design. By all accounts it should be fairly simple to run pipes to each house once there's water flowing to the Lanes. My dearest wish is that by the time I return, there will be the possibility of washing with warm water in our own home.

I do think of that bar as home. As ours. It's not the first place we built together and it's still not finished, but I find myself thinking of it. Thinking of our bed. Thinking of you. Of us still there, years from now. With power and water. Perhaps with big glass windows and daylight. It sounds foolish – and I have no idea how we'd ever manage it – but I have nothing else to do here but daydream.

I suppose it's too much to hope that you've finally put the sign up for the bar. It needs a name, Vander. Just because everyone thinks of it as 'the bar' doesn't mean it should be left half-finished and unnamed.

Success! It rained today! So I am now wet and cold and half-dressed, but I was able to rinse my clothes out and wash the dirt off my face. I have hooked my clothes from my bunk and am waiting for them to dry, wrapped in a sheet like it's the highest of topsider fashions.

I've worked out how I'll get this message to you. All I need is someone about to be released who will go close enough to riverside or the mine to take this to you. The difficulty with that is that most of the miners and fishermen in here are like me: arrested with no set sentence and no way to know when we'll be released. The topsiders know their dates but the chances that any of them would go to the Lanes for a few bronze… Still, now that I know how to do it, I simply need to wait for the right opportunity.

I find myself wishing that there was hard labour to be done here. At least the hours would pass faster. Even in the foundling home, we had chores and study to complete. I have grown to hate sitting on my bunk and staring at the slats above my head. I feel that Benzo and Felicia would laugh at me, at the poetic justice of being forced to do nothing when they both claim I do nothing but work. If I ever get this letter to you, you should tell them. Let them laugh at my expense.

I dream of you. More often than my pride wants to admit. I miss you. I miss you snoring beside me. I miss your hands on my skin. I miss how you always pour me a glass of the best whiskey we have, even though it should be kept for paying customers. I miss your smile and your laugh. I miss the way you curse when you burn your finger and the tunes you hum when you're cleaning up the bar and the ridiculous faces you pull at Violet to make her giggle. I miss you like I lost a leg or a hand, survivable but a constant loss I can't ignore.

I miss you and the worst part of it is that I'm sure you miss me too. There was a time, when we first shared a bed, when I was sure this would end in heartbreak, that you would lose interest and find someone easier to be with. Someone new and fun, less angry at everything. But I know that won't happen now. You don't want someone simple and light-hearted. You're as angry as I am, as dedicated and willing to work for what we deserve. You're mine as much as I'm yours, and being apart doesn't change that. I'm sorry, Vander. I'm sure it would be easier for you if it did.

There's a sailor getting out of here next week, traveling back to Bilgewater. With a little luck this letter will be in your hands by the end of the month.

No one from the undercity receives visitors but occasionally care packages get through. Talk to Babette, ask one of her customers to send it from Piltover. The package will be checked by the guards and anything valuable will be taken before it gets to me, so don't send currency or alcohol. The food here is passable but jerky and ship's biscuits might be good to trade. Matches and candles. Dice. Cards.

Any messages are bound to be intercepted so don't bother writing a reply.

Silco

***

[bubblegumrabbitwriting]

WIP UPDATE!!!

Hi Guys,

The demo for Blink has been updated with about 50k words, including code; however, it's mostly branches, so it will be a lot less in terms of actual gameplay per playthrough.

DEMO LINK

The demo includes the below:

Vehicle selection

One of the main paths for the mansion break-in

A stealth gameplay section (there is a fail state, but it won't become apparent until the next update)

As always, if there are any issues, please feel free to send them here or to the forum topic.

The next thing I will be working on is the other two paths for the mansion break-in, and hopefully the next update should include both. Then the update after that should include the rest of the chapter, as the events after the break in all flow together, so it might take a bit longer to get that update out.

Thank you, and I hope you all enjoy the new content.