#I smell another best seller

[ghouljams]

professor ghost on love's bday: she doesnt like to make a big deal of it and he cant wor up the nerve to give her his gift himself, so he leaves it in her office. its a manuscript, a scribbled out on curled pages, unfinished thing that ghost had to write down so the words would stop screaming in his head. all the edits he has to make to his old work since love came into his life.

Not edits, no, a new thesis entirely. If his first book was a meditation on grief, a thesis on the state of belief in misery, an exploration of predeterminism and fate, then this one is a true love letter. It's frankly embarrassing, but he can't stop thinking about it. None of the words are right. His writing is frantic, messy, nothing like the cool explanatory tone of his other books. He has no references to cite. Or- no, he has plenty of references.

He thinks of Aristotle, of his single soul theory(bullshit, Ghost rejects, my love is whole, she's too much to be half of me, and if she were what a terribly presupposition: that we are all divided into Joy and Sorrow like me and my love).

He thinks of Plato's Symposium, of breaking love into three parts(But that's too small, she can't be broken down into parts: eros, philia, agape. She makes him want to be better, she is passion, she is love in all forms, love to the point of inspiration, love to the point of consumption, to change and be changed. How could he break her into smaller pieces when he wants all of her?)

Ovid maintained that romantic love should never be consummated, that in its purest form it should grow beyond its physical needs, becoming transcendental. What does it mean that his skin craves her every touch, that he can't sleep without her dancing through his dreams? How is he supposed to maintain his distance when she presses to him at every opportunity? When he can't find anything but sorrow without the sight of her?

Ghost scribbles on his papers like a madman. He finds notes on receipts, on the backs of paper bags, in the margins of his books. He reads over the notes Love has left him and feels his heart squeeze in such a pleasantly hurtful way.

Behaviorism perhaps. It's all quantifiable, he just needs to find the right numbers. Or maybe aesthetic philosophy would be better? Feelings which cannot be captured through written language.

Yet the scribbling takes over his work. His walls covered in post its and pencil marks, his laptop running like a jet engine as he pours what must be incomprehensible drivel into his word processor. Ghost pushes his fingers under his glasses, feels the press of the bridge into his forehead, begs for his brain to be quiet, for his stomach to stop clenching each time he thinks about Love. He drags his hand down to cover his mouth, breathing as deep as he can manage through his nose. It all feels heavy, impossibly heavy.

None of it is right, none of it feels big enough, encompasses enough to describe the way he feels. None of the philosophers talk about the actual feeling of it. They don't talk about it hurting, don't mention how much he craves the pain of her.

Maybe he's a masochist.

He sends the draft to his editor with an apology.

"2.5 kids and a dog, eh?" Is the only response he gets.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x oc #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost x oc #oc: love #professor!ghost #professor au #I smell another best seller #Ghost does his best work when he uses his emotions for his philosophy

[hoshifighting]

Secrets in Ink

Synopsis: Y/N is the author of a saga of adult books, but no one knows her identity, which makes her products sell more and more. Joshua Hong is a big fan of the books written by the author, but little does he know that his co-worker owns the words that make him thirsty.

Word count: 3.4k

Reader! Anonymous author, Joshua Hong! Reader

Warnings: smut, oral (f. and m. receiving), penetrative sex, a slight voyeurism, smacking, dick riding, fingering (f. receiving), begging, both switch, can have some grammatical errors, so I apologize in advance :)

The saga written by Y/N delved into the realms of passion, desire and forbidden love, creating a literary world that resonated with readers seeking an escape from the mundane. With each new release, expectations among fans reached new heights, fueled by the elusive nature of the author's identity.

Unbeknownst to bookworms, one of Y/N's most dedicated fans was Joshua Hong, a diligent worker at a publishing company in Seoul. Joshua's love for Y/N's books went beyond mere admiration; he found solace, excitement, and a connection to his own desires in the pages of tantalizing sagas.

Little did Joshua know that the woman responsible for his literary desires was none other than his own co-worker. Y/N found a job at the publishing house as a text and publishing analyst, carefully hiding her double life as a talented author. Her days were spent at the office, surrounded by colleagues who were oblivious to the fact that their easy-going co-worker was the mastermind behind the salacious stories that captivated the world.

As the popularity of Y/N's books continued to grow, Joshua's fascination with the elusive author deepened. He participated in online forums, attended autograph sessions, and even tried to discover the identity of the author, all to no avail. Y/N reveled in the irony of her situation, watching Joshua from across the office, knowing that the very person he wanted to discover was hiding in plain sight.

The tension between the secret author and her unwitting fan reached new heights when Y/N's latest release set the literary world on fire. Joshua, enraptured by the narrative, unknowingly sat mere tables away from the woman who wrote the words that fueled his fantasies.

Today was another end of the day where your work friends got together to take a break since the week was long enough. And the chosen destination was a bar that sold fried pork. Y/N was already thinking about the smell of her hair and clothes at the end of the night, while her coworkers commented on the huge success of the books published last Monday.

“They contacted the author today via e-mail, she was so nice! I can imagine the day she will appear at the company…” Eunji said dreamy to Y/N, who was already drinking her beer.

“Honestly, I never thought we would sell books like this.” Seungkwan said with a hand on his chest “It’s the best seller in years! Every day I want to kneel and thank god the the writer chosen our company, I love the fat salary in my account!” 

“Facts! And one day I will be just like Y/N” Eunji breaks Y/N out of her trance as she rests her glass on the table, choking a little on her beer. “Me? Whyyy?” “You arrive on the company at 8a.m in a whole BMW and you think we wouldn’t notice?” 

The woman smiles awkwardly and turn the pork belly on the little grill on your front “It was only thanks to my savings okay? Imagine how much that author must earn” 

“Woah to have her bank account!” 

“Imagine have a night with her! If she writes so well about it, then she must be a demon in bed” The girl by her side says and she couldn’t help but laugh sincerely. That was the part that Y/N love the most, the expectation of people about the writer’s life again.

“But honestly! Her books are so good, that's why it sells so much.” Joshua affirms. 

Y/N gives him a curious glare “Oh! So you like her books?” 

“Of course I do, the writing it’s so captivating, I could read all day long, without any problems” He rise his shoulders.

“Woah! Joshua reading those type of books? Oh! He is so romantic!” Seungkwan sulk at him punching his arm, while Joshua rolls his eyes. “Y’all should read the best seller of your company” Joshua argues.

[…]

After a long day of work, here was the part of the end of the day that Joshua was most looking forward to, as he settled into the comfort of his dimly lit room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm tone across the pages, he eagerly dove into the latest release from your favourite anonymous author. The words unfolded like a well-choreographed dance, each sentence leaving him intrigued with what was to come in the narrative.

His eyes scanned the paragraphs, savoring the clever sentences and subtle nuances that made this mysterious writer truly exceptional. Anticipation rose within him, excitement akin to a child unwrapping a long-awaited gift.

The room seemed to come to life with the magic written on the thin pages, and Joshua found himself with his hand under his sweatpants during the heated dialogue and sighing at the intriguing plot twists. The anonymous writer had a way of infusing every line with an exciting energy that left him totally horny. Impatient, he takes off his own clothes from his already sweaty body. Again flipping another page of the book, masturbating his cock as he holds his bottom lip between his teeth. “Ah! Fuck” 

Joshua found himself breathing shakily, while his hand worked harder on his hard cock, the muscles of his arms moved together with his hand, and the room is already filled with the moans that leave from his mouth. It doesn’t take long for Joshua cum in his abdomen holding tight the base of his cock with your head thrown back. He laid the book on this bedside table closing his eyes groaning before going to the bathroom.

[…]

Y/N, however, was not content with mere anonymity. She longed to unravel the carefully constructed façade of her fan, Joshua. Calculating her every move, she orchestrated a plan to reveal her true identity to him in the most unexpected way.

One day, as fate would have it, Joshua was called to Y/N's apartment to fix a supposed computer glitch since she was in her home office that particular day. Y/N meticulously organized the situation, ensuring that he would discover the truth amidst her literary kingdom. When Joshua arrived at Y/N's apartment, anticipation hung in the air like a charged melody. 

The door opened, revealing Y/N standing before him, a sight of fascination. She greeted him with a inviting smile, wearing a sheer white shirt that offered a teasing glimpse of delicate lingerie underneath. Black pants clung to her waist, accentuating curves that, until then, only existed in his realm of imagination. The smell of her home, as well as her literary world, enveloped him – sweet, intoxicating, and inviting. The well-decorated space spoke volumes about the woman behind the words, a place where fantasies and realities converged perfectly.

Joshua, mesmerized by the scene before him, felt a sense of comfort in the atmosphere she had arranged. He waited patiently, his eyes taking in every nuance of the moment. Y/N, his sweet and kind co-worker, made a subtle but deliberate sign, inviting him to her office. With a tilt of her head and a shy smile, Y/N called Joshua into her office. The room, an extension of her creativity, welcomed him with warm tones and the soft glow of ambient lighting. The air was buzzing with a shared secret, and when Joshua entered the space where he barely knew the words that fueled his desires were crafted, he couldn't help but feel a shiver of anticipation.

As he delved deeper into the intricacies of her computer, the air grew thicker with expectation. As Joshua stepped into Y/N's home office, surrounded by filled with books and the subtle shelves aroma of new pages of paper, he went to work on his computer, unaware that the very secrets he sought were hidden in the files he was about to explore.

Smiling, she watched as Joshua stumbled upon a hidden folder containing the manuscripts of his beloved saga. Shock and realization danced across his face, the lines between fiction and reality blurring in a heady revelation. Y/N's secret was revealed before him, and he was caught in the tempting web she spun. The air crackled with tension as Joshua turned to Y/N, his eyes reflecting a mixture of amazement and desire. Her, the architect of the situation, revealed herself with a mischievous glow, her true identity no longer confined to the pages of her books.

In that intense moment, Y/N and Joshua found themselves at the intersection of fantasy and reality. The words that fueled Joshua's desires were no longer the creation of an elusive author, but the passionate reflections of a co-worker who skillfully orchestrated the revelation. As Y/N and Joshua stood enveloped in the charged atmosphere of her office, the unspoken tension between them reached its peak. The revelation had set the stage, and the air seemed to hum with a shared desire that transcended the boundaries of fiction. Y/N closed the distance between them. Joshua, captivated by the allure of the moment, met her halfway. Their lips touched in a kiss that held the weight of a collision of worlds where the line between fiction and reality continued to blur.

The kiss lingered, a moment suspended in time, before Y/N pulled away with a subtle smile. Without breaking eye contact, she took Joshua's hand, leading him out of the office and into her room. The journey through her creatively adorned space was a sensory experience—books whispering stories from shelves, the subtle aroma of scented candles filling the air, and the glow of ambient lighting casting a warm hue. Every step felt like a deliberate move in the narrative they were weaving together. As they reached the doorway of her main bedroom, Y/N turned to Joshua, her gaze a reflection of the desires that had long been confined to the pages of her books. With a silent invitation, she opened the door, revealing a space that mirrored the intimacy and allure of the stories she crafted. They found themselves on the threshold of a new chapter. The bed, adorned with soft sheets and plush pillows, beckoned them into a realm where the boundaries between author and reader, fantasy and reality, continued to blur.

As they entered the room, the door closed behind them, sealing the narrative of Y/N and Joshua in the privacy of her creatively curated sanctuary. The story that had unfolded from the depths of Y/N's imagination now transitioned into a shared experience, a continuation of the tantalizing saga that had brought them to this moment of connection and desire. Y/N intertwined her fingers in Joshua's brown locks, as he caressed their tongues together. 

Joshua, now acutely aware that his hot co-worker was none other than his favorite writer, felt a surge of heat coursing through him, the realization that Y/N, the woman he had worked alongside in the office, was the mastermind behind the steamy tales that had fueled his fantasies, intensified the charged atmosphere. The lines between admiration and desire, professional and personal, blurred into a landscape where the boundaries were defined by the shared heartbeat of two individuals drawn together by the allure of the unknown.

He laid her back on the wall, pressing your bodies together, she could feel his cock hard against her crotch while her hands ruined trough his layers of clothes, pulling your sweater in a single upward movement, he helps her, removing his shirt looking at her teasingly. She starts so open every single button from her transparent shirt, painfully slow. Joshua with the greatest delicacy tried to unbutton them quickly.

“Calm down Joshua I won’t run away from you…” She smiles, kissing his neck, and then licking a stripe with her hot tongue, feeling his skin shiver. “I should take time with my favourite reader, shouldn’t I?” He moans pressing his forehead on her shoulder, while he removes her belt of her silk pants. “You know what? I loved to see your name on my e-mails, giving me a whole feedback about my books… Or when you gone to the book events to get a single autograph, and to try to find out who wrote the dirty words you loved so much. You couldn't imagine that I would reveal myself like this, could you?” 

At this point, their clothes were lying on the bedroom floor, allowing Joshua to play with the thin fabric of her lace lingerie, moving their bodies to her bed. He climbed on top of her, kissing her neck, and played with his teeth, with the thin gold chain that adorned her neck. He rubs his clothed dick, on her covered pussy, eliciting groans from both of them. “Who would have thought that you, all quiet in your corner, would write all these bold books? I would never imagine that you had this naughty mind” He rubs again, making her lips open with a silent sound. 

"Since you've got that wild imagination of yours... If I were one of your characters, what would you do with me here, and now, hm?” Caught off guard by Joshua's unexpected question, she closes her eyes, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. As she imagined the scenario he proposed, a subtle bite on her lip betrayed the depth of her thoughts. When she opened her eyes, a seductive look met Joshua's gaze, and she responded to him by looking him in the eyes. "I'd tie you to this bed, and ride your cock until you begged for more. Or I'd let you fuck me on the balcony, showing all my neighbors how well you fuck your favorite author…” 

She says with so much naturalness, that now it took Joshua by surprise — he even tries to act natural, but his flushed cheeks give him away how aroused he was — she can notice that he is now sinking his fingers into the flesh of her body “You are so surprising, what do I do with you?" he sulks clicking his tongue. 

Y/N hugs her legs around Joshua's waist and grabs his neck, flipping him, so she can sit on his lap “You know what? You'd rock as a character in my next book, but before that, I wanna get a feel of you." Joshua's eyes shine with the answer given to him, but she didn't give him time to think, she was already in between his legs lowering the waistband of his black boxers, his dick jumps, and lays on his stomach. She holds his cock, licking the base, while the angry tip asked for attention. Her finger press his slit, spreading the precum that shone with the room's lighting. His body trembling with the teasing.

Joshua blinked, and when he saw it, his dick was already inside of her mouth, she bob her head on his dick, and he cover his face with both of his hands whimpering in pleasure, he laughs, brushing his hair back with his hands “Oh my God, you’re doing so good for me baby… Ah” he looks at her, holding her hair to go deeper, and she goes, even deeper than he expected, his eyes widen and he arch his back “fuck I’ll cum” he cries, looking at you almost closing his eyes.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah!” 

“No you won’t!” She drop his dick on his stomach again. 

Joshua gets up, looking at her with pleasing eyes “Why?” “I don’t think you are my loyal reader. Never let them cum so easy, you know that, don’t you?” “Yes, you right.” He gets up again, walking through her room and opening the curtains of her window, revealing, the lights from the city in the night. He turns off all of the lighting, and put a chair in front of the big and vertical window, while she watches him curiously. With strong arms around her, he gets her out of bed, placing her sat on the chair. “What are you doing?” he rips her lingerie from her body, and she open her mouth “Shh! Quiet” 

She opens her legs for him, giving at him a full view from her pussy, dripping already. The lighting was very low, — so people couldn’t see them properly from their windows, or from the street — but she still could see the shameless white smile on his face, before licking a teasing strip on her pussy looking at her eyes. Y/N curl her toes at the sight, the wet and hot tongue, making a mess on her pussy “Fuck, you look so good like this…” he says, and her hand holds his hair, pushing him to eat her out again, he smiles and groan sending vibrations to her clit. 

Joshua holds her legs open, feeling her tights tremble on his hands, while her pornographyc moans fulfilled the room, she was on the edge for the second time, but Joshua wouldn’t let her cum yet. “Why you’re so mean?! I’ll ride you until you cry! Ah!” she threatened angrily at Joshua's long teasing.

He stops and look at her, pushing two fingers inside of her, making her eyes roll at the back of her head “Yeah? And what else are you going to do? Will you be able to do it?” he scoffs looking at her. She’s a trembling mess, and your pussy was already dripping on the chair. 

“I-I will-“ She screams when he curls his fingers inside of her, feeling her eyes kick out the tears from the sides of her eyes.

“Aw babe can’t even speak…” he sulks at her moving his fingers fast enough so she can feel the knot on her stomach again, and he can feel her pussy tighten around his fingers, so he stops again, licking his fingers. 

She open her eyes, and give him an angry glare, she wasn’t kidding anymore. So she gets up, holding his arm, guiding him to sit on the chair angrily. He looks at her a little anxious “So quiet, out of nowhere? Hm?” She laughs at him. 

Y/N holds the base of his dick firmly making him jump, Joshua could only feel her tight, wet and warm walls hugging his dick, before his vision gets white. She slammed her hips on him, and the boy moan loud throwing his head back. Her hand hold his jaw firmly, so he looks at her. He needs to hold the urge to roll his eyes, so he can keep the eye contact with her with furrowed eyebrows. Y/N starts to roll her hips at him, masturbating her clit, so he can fells her pussy tightening even more. Shivers are sent to Joshua’s body. “So good, so good, so good…” 

Joshua takes her hand out of herself, and starts to rub her clit fast, slapping her on the ass. She groans, pulling his hair, and rolling her hips furiously, he looks at her like he was asking for mercy, both of them couldn’t stop their moans to leave their mouths. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop babe, I’m al-most t-there, I swear! Please! Please?” He asks and her mouth opens in an “O” and he nods at her as a stimulation to cum, then she screams his name, creaming his cock, riding her orgasm, looking at him, to see if he was near because her legs wouldn't last long. He kisses her messy, moaning, and he tries to kiss her until his moans stop him, the orgasm washed over him rolling his eyes, moaning loud enough that his ears rings after. 

She lays on his shoulder, and he hold her waist tight to him. Y/N looks at him with a tired smile “We should get some sleep, we have to wake up early tomorrow…”

[…]

As Joshua and Y/N strolled into the office, a shared secret lingering between them, the evidence of their night together evident in the shared smiles that adorned their faces. The knowledge of Y/N's true identity only fueled Joshua's excitement, and he couldn't help but wear a constant grin as he replayed the events of the previous night in his mind.

Seungkwan, the unsuspecting colleague, announced with enthusiasm, "Hey, did you hear? The mysterious author wants to drop a new smut next month!" Joshua's eyes met Y/N's, and she responded with a playful wink, a silent acknowledgment of their intimate connection.

The office banter continued, but in that moment, amidst the hum of activity, Joshua and Y/N shared a secret that transcended the ordinary workday. The thrill of their clandestine affair and the anticipation of the upcoming literary release painted the day with an aura of shared mischief and unspoken desires.

#seventeen headcanons #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt smut #svt imagines #joshua hong #joshua smut #joshua hong smut #joshua fluff #joshua hong fluff #hong jisoo #hong jisoo fluff #hong jisoo smut #joshua x reader #joshua hong x reader #joshua hong x you #hong jisoo x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen #hoshifighting writes

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Tomorrow

---

Pairing: Obiwan x you

Content: Sleepy Obiwan beckons you to join him.

Warnings: none

Word count: 850

---

“Love.”, he calls for you but it sounds like a gentle cry as he emerges by the doorway to your kitchen. You can see him in your peripheral vision but the fresh batch of cookies you made demanded your attention.

It isn’t easy running a bakery on Coruscant when you cater to the elite. Everything needs to be perfect and so trialing out new recipes meant late nights of burnt batches or a messy kitchen. But your Jedi husband now stands leaning on the doorway with his arms folded and a blanket wrapped around him.

The oven had managed to keep the area around you warm, but the nights on this lustrous planet were too cold to walk around without a woolen cover.

You check the colour. Golden brown. Perfect.

The smell. Divine.

You break one and pop the piece into your mouth. The flavour, the ingredients you had chosen worked well together. Outstanding.

A proud smile worked it’s way across your face even as you tried to hide it. This was going to be another best seller. You dust your hands and your mind now jumped onto the next task. The icing and decoration. But as you turned to get something, Obiwan had made his way towards you.

“New batch. New recipe.”, you still hadn't figured out why he was here but you always loved to share the first of your creations with him.

You held a small broken cookie piece near his mouth and he ate it. His hand reaching up to hold yours as you waited for his reaction. His eyes found yours as he chewed slowly. Elegant as always, but as you stood there, he looped his hand behind your waist and drew you closer.

“Another bestseller.”, he smiled with approval and it made you beam with the happiness of satisfaction.

“Now, come to sleep.”, he mumbled against your lips as he kissed you, the taste of fresh butter from his lips made it difficult to resist his request.

“Yes, in a while, the icing – you start to say but forget the rest as he held you and the comfort of his warmth soaked into your body.

In all the madness to perfect this batch, you had actually forgotten to realize how tired you were.

His locks were set free from the combed back mullet he sported during the day and his beard had caused a faint burn against your skin. His Jedi robes were no where to be seen as he leaned away. His skin gleaming a soft sunkissed glow under the warm lighting, his soft linen pants made it certain that he was done with business and now yearned for your company, lastly his sleepy eyes made you reconsider the icing project.

“I am feeling a bit tired. But I do have to close up the station before I can join you.”, you sigh as you look around the kitchen island and the counter top, full of pot and pans.

But he chuckled as though he was bemused, he didn’t let you go, instead leaned in to kiss the side of your neck under your ear as he whispered, “You often forget I’m a Jedi, darling.”

And as he said it, he used the force to move the icing bowls together, place the lids back on opened vessels and within seconds everything was sorted. You smiled, allowing yourself to sink into his arms.

“I thought that was why you liked me.”, you fought a yawn as you turned to him.

“One of the many reasons why I fell in love with you.”, he replied as he opened up his blanket wrap for you to join in.

“Ah. What are the other reasons?”, you ask as you wrap an arm around his bare waist and as you covered yourself under his blanket.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”, he kissed your forehead as you walked along with him down the dark corridor towards your bedroom.

You put away your jewelry while he got comfortable on his side of the bed and when you took longer to brush your hair, he groaned impatiently as he called your name.

All you could do was laugh in response to his needy pleas and playful jests as you got beneath the covers and fell back onto the pillows next to him.

“I’m here. I’m here.”, you pacify his as you smiled to look at the deep blue of his eyes.

“Took you long enough.”, he frowned innocently.

“Even Grievous doesn’t keep me waiting for that long in the battlefield.”, he mumbled again as he wrapped his arms around you not desiring to wait any longer. You gasp to his statement when he finally rests with his head tucked under your neck as your fingers stroked his hair.

“You take that back.”, you whisper.

“No.”, he speaks into your skin.

“Fine, then I’ll go back downstairs to finish up my icings then.”, you say in mock protest which makes him hold you tighter and nuzzle closer.

“No.”, he says softly.

“Stay with me.”, he says it like it was his only wish and you knew in your heart you could never put work above him.

So you let your hands dip further as you traced the rise and fall of the muscles on his back and before you knew it, under the warmth of the blankets and in the peace of being with each other. Sleep had found you both.

#obi wan my beloved #obi wan imagine #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obiwan x reader #obiwan kenobi #obiwan x fluff

[eggedbellies]

Everyone go ahead and thank @final-girl-lorde for this one! I am SO sorry it's taken so long, thank you for your patience.

Title: Deep Cavern. Words: 4064 Kinks: body transformation, breeding, eggpreg, minotaur, tentacles, drider, adventuring idk. Summary: Max has spent his whole life training and being a hero and adventurer. But now he's determined to explore the one cave nobody has ever come out of.

It wouldn’t be false to say that Max was pretty well known around here by now. He had been an adventurer for a few years; focusing his whole life into heading down into the various deep, dangerous places in this world. He had honed his body since he was young, realising that what he wanted was to be a hero. And there was definitely money to be made, although he preferred to do what he could to help those who may have lost things or been endangered – it still came down to getting what money he needed to live, after all. So here he was, staring into the entryway to yet another dungeon.

Max cut an imposing figure. Tall, broad shoulders, the leather and mail armour he wore all added to the effect. And Max was proud of it, too; he’d been working out for such a long time, and each dungeon increased his skill and prowess. Now, facing down the entryway, he slipped the small vial of potion out of his pocket, holding it up and tilting it up in the light. It glittered, softly translucent, blue and glimmering. This small drop had cost him nearly all the treasure he’d managed to snag in the last journey he’d taken, and Max was hoping it would be worth it.

Whitehold Cavern had been a dangerous place for a long time, now. In years, no adventurer had emerged – many had tried. Of course, so many. From powerful wizards to other burly beefcakes like himself, and yet there was never another person who had come out. The rumours of what existed deeply inside – not just the monsters and beasts of darkness, of course, but the treasures that had been snatched away and taken down over the many years – that would be what had driven most of them there. Magical artefacts, gold, even bones of the beasts within…

And now it had come down to this. He was ready, confident, determined. Max was going to enter those depths, gather gold and riches, find what was hidden away, and be the one to make it back. And this potion was going to be the feather in his cap that was going to guarantee his name going down in history. All the money that he had gained and then spent in order to get here – every penny would be worth it. The seller had been oh so determined that it was exactly what he needed to survive, thrive, and become a legend. So here it was. Peering down into the depths, past the unassuming entrance of the cavern – apart from all the signs and warnings scattered around – he girded his loins, popped the lid on the vial, and tipped it into his mouth.

The fluid was strangely thick, for how it had moved in the vial, but it dribbled out into his mouth. At first, sweetness flooded over his tongue, flourishing and spreading a strange, tingly numbness. And then heat, like the spiciest orc chilli he had tried, burning and spreading. No matter how he swallowed, it wouldn’t clear away. Exhaling sharply, he adjusted his armour just slightly, a little looser, cooler. Then – doing his very best to ignore the increasing amount of people who seemed to be coming out in order to observe another fool going to their death – he tensed his shoulders and began the walk down.

After about ten minutes of steady clanking, he was feeling disappointed.

Nothing had yet come for him. There were sloping walls, a faint smell of damp and moss, but – no great monster had struck for him. Was there a sudden drop? The light was fading quickly, so he reached back to strike against the runestone on his hip. A soft blue glow began to spread into the space around him, a subtle but steadily increasing source of vision. A gift from a mage he’d saved in another town, that had been endlessly useful to him. Muscles were great, but he’d always had a smartness that so many others didn’t have, at least as far as Max considered himself. This would be fine. He let go of the sword on his belt, relaxing just a little – and kept walking.

There was no sudden drop. He wasn’t going to starve any time soon. And still that heat was suffusing from his mouth, now spread through his muscles. Liquid heat in his legs, all of his joints – it must be the power that the potion was giving him. Max pulled the armour away from his neck a little more, revealing a touch of flushed skin, exhaling sharply. Wrapped up in the adjustments, he missed the patch of moss underfoot – and slipped. Foot going out from under him, the warrior landed heavily, finding himself slipping and sliding down – shoulder cracking against the stone wall, and something shifting below the plates.

“What -?” awkwardly, managing to pull himself up, he pressed a little more force against the wall. There it was again – a movement, in the rock. A foot against it, now the boulder began to properly move, revealing a concealed passageway in the wall. Peering back the way he’d been walking, a sense of smugness settled onto Max’s shoulders. Of course, it was fated! And so he crouched, wriggling through the hole – and as he emerged into the cavern on the other side, he almost missed the movement ahead.

The blue light from his rune shone over something slick, wet – brow furrowing as he straightened, the tentacle reaching for him caught his eye. In a moment, his sword was loose, and there was a screech as the severed limb fell to the ground in a pool of blue blood. His eyes seemed fixated on the twitching tube, dripping in fluid, and that heat rushed straight to his groin. Shaking it off, his eyes came up just in time to see the beast heaving itself toward him. The next one wrapped around his leg, and another, a flurry of tentacles as his sword snick-snicked, but it was heading towards overwhelming him as he stumbled away, looking for a vantage – and the squeezing around his legs wasn’t helping with that burning.

He could feel himself – dripping, inside. And that was insanity, sure, he’d heard of some strange adventurers who may seek out a tentacled beast like this, but they were as likely to kill and devour you as anything else. As he lunged at the main body, more slender tendrils drove themselves under his mail, leaving cool-hot slick on his bare skin – and he skewered it, feeling the last squirms of it’s searchers as it died.

It took time to clear the goo off his skin, and the air in the cave felt better against that burning. After a moment’s hesitation, he shed a layer of leathers; leaving them piled next to the oozing carcass. It was strange, they felt – tighter, and more than just the sweat. He would move easier without them. Wiping his neck, Max exhaled sharply, heading down deeper. Pausing, listening, he carefully avoided a nest of Viper-strikes, and found another hidden tunnel – sword thrust and ready, but no tentacle beast awaited here – and paused to take a drink. Time was hazy, hours had most likely slipped away as he traversed…

And the cave had to be getting hotter. His armour was feeling tighter, stranger, by the moment. As he hefted his sword up to his shoulder again, it didn’t move quite as easily as before. He’d never hit fatigue this early – a magic must lay over the cave… or the energy from the vial was fading. But the sorcerer had insisted it would last for as long as he’d need it, deep down here…

“Whoa.” it came out as a sharp little breath, stopping on a natural ledge, awkwardly dropping to a crouch as he stared down into the pit a half-dozen feet below him.

Webbing was strung over the space; judging by some shapes that were left in it, animals – god, he hoped they were animals – had been caught and wrapped. Adjusting, he began to cautiously edge down the natural holds in the wall, careful not to ping any of those webbing lines. The monster that belonged in it wasn’t currently visible – he had to make sure not to summon what beast it was. He was going to best the cave, find it’s treasure, and he wasn’t going to pick a fight where there wasn’t one… feet found the floor, and he edged, ducking, catching – oh, no – a rough edge in the floor – a clatter as he landed on the ground and froze.

“Oh, little one.” a voice hissed from above. “Aren’t we trying so very hard? I can smell you from here.”

His blood ran cold. It wasn’t the first time he’d faced a drider, but instead of his body arming, ready to fight, that heat was flourishing deep inside him again. God, how good would she feel, deep inside him? What? No! No, he didn’t… fuck, his head felt strange. What the hell was going on? Stiffly, he managed to get up, doing his very best to avoid the web strands – wouldn’t do to get caught, even as he reached for his sword…

“Don’t worry…” she slipped down from the ceiling on a strong, thick white line, the pale skin looking near translucent in the light from his rune, six eyes fixated on his form as she adjusted to walk on those lines as if they were thick planks and not the shockingly delicate web. “I’m going to help you, now… with all that heat in you… and then you’ll be a perfect little reward for my kind act.” He looked down. His hand was trembling on the blade. It barely seemed like his hand. All he could think was how good she would feel inside him, but the threat of death lingered, a heavy weight pushing through the heat in his crotch.

She was upon him, in a shockingly fast motion, chitin legs reaching down, grasping at him – mouth open, venom glittering on her fangs – he released the strap on his shoulder plate, dropped down, rolled, swung his sword – severing the webs she was on. Her body crashed to the floor, front legs still clutching hold of the armour he’d released. Unwilling to think about how desperate his body was to bare itself for her, Max ran, clattering down the path he could see, urgently – he was making too much noise, the light on his hip swinging wildly, and despite the weight now missing, he didn’t feel any lighter.

When his legs came to a stop, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he couldn’t hear the drider behind him. This cavern seemed narrow but empty, and he sat down heavily on a rock, swigging from his waterskin and taking off his helmet to wipe at his face. “Shit, what was that?” his face was soaked in sweat. All of him was, his linen shirt the last protection on his shoulders, and he wiped his face on that. He tapped his chestplate; sitting a little strangely because of his lack of pauldrons, only the strap felt – tight. Slipping off the arms of his armour, he stared at his flesh. Different. The muscle definition was fading. Softer, less – powerful. What the shit was happening to him? His strength… less intimidating. More breedable.

Max blinked at the ground. What the hell was going on in his head? He’d gone too far to go back, now. And the idea of abandoning this idea, when he could finally get filled by something wonderful – no, no – honour and glory, right? Honour and – he jerked on his arms again, stumbling onward. He had to keep going. He had to. And so he kept moving, into the next cave, and along; searching for more secret passageways. A strange musky smell was drifting up as he clamboured up some wall holds to a narrow gap that looked suspicious, driving his hands into it, and – yes – there it was. Another passageway. This time there was a – slide? He was so sick of sliding into the unknown, and yet here he was, and heading deeper, and oh the smell was overwhelming – but it was hard to fit into the gap. Cursing, he released his chest plate, tucking it onto the ledge below and sliding down.

The pit he ended up in rattled. Bones on the floor. Not good. A great huff, and a shadow turned towards him – backlit by a low fire. The heat was stifling, not just the temperature but that whole burning in his skin suddenly overwhelming. Great curved horns that nearly hit the ceiling. Wide ears, strong legs, a clip-clop and oh, shit, that was – a bull. With a chest that was greater than even his, but as Max glanced down, that strange disorientation hit again. Because his muscles were near gone, now – still strong, but no abs, just soft flesh. As the bull man grabbed ahold of him, for a split second he feared death – and then his legs were spreading as it huffed and sniffed his neck. A hand – monstrously large – forced his crotch-piece away and slipped into his underthings, pressing against his near-liquid, aching flesh.

“Fuck -!” he cried out, as it slipped in, pressing against his cock, throbbing against it’s immense finger. He bucked, and it snorted, as if amused, pulling away and leaving him trembling. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Why the hell was he losing his mind, right now, in this cave? His body – his body – it wasn’t acting like his, he’d never wanted to be bred like this – and there was the minotaur, hard, member so thick and long – and he wanted it – and his hand itched to his sword – and so he stumbled from the wall, and past it. Astounded, distracted perhaps, the minotaur was slow – and as he tripped and kicked the fire behind him, Max was out, and now the minotaur was running – he had to go, go, go, not fall, not present, there had to be something else here that he was looking for – and then he was falling, falling -

The ground never hit, but the world sure did go dark.

When he came to, his body was throbbing. Struggling up to his feet, Max inhaled sharply. His rune had gone out – the room was lit, somehow. Stumbling towards the light, he tried to think. Every inch of him was now aching, adjusting the swordbelt on his waist, the linen shirt that was hanging open. As he stumbled into the crack in the wall ahead, all he could think of was the need to pack his dripping, throbbing hole again. His belly was aching, hot, as his whole skin felt aflame. He was still strong, of course he was, but his body felt nothing like it had before. Max wasn’t sure he cared, about all the work that was lost now, because it didn’t matter. He had no intention to fight, not any more, all that mattered was that his body needed to be filled, bred, used… the glittering piles of gold and magical items that he wobbled past were unimportant now. He didn’t give a damn about them. Heat and faint smokey smells were drawing him on and on into the dark depths.

And as he fully made his way into this cavern, he saw it. A glow rising from somewhere deeper and further ahead, he realised there was a huge, heavy head lifting from the ground. Deep red shimmered; acid yellow eyes were opening. The jaw was as long as his entire body was tall, and the mouth was starting to part, hot fetid breath drifting over his half-bared body. The creamy fangs, the deep pink of the tongue – all of it sent a shiver through him that settled right in his aching core. Everything that had come before, had stretched and prepared him, leading to this – none of it had mattered really. Because right now, all that mattered was the way he was falling to his knees in front of the beast.

It moved forward, nostrils flaring, sniffing against him. The rough scales of the snout pressed into his chest, and Max leaned his hands forward, running them, trembling fingers that they were, over the large, hot flesh in front of him. He could feel each bump, the slightly rough and uneven edges, the gusting of the in and out breaths disturbing both skin and fabric. The intelligent eyes were fixed on his form, as the tongue slid out of it’s containment. The pointed tip – as thick as Max’s wrist – slipped it’s way between his legs, and drew up, over his throbbing dick, his lips, and over his painfully empty belly.

Apparently pleased by what it tasted in Max’s body, it huffed, moving back – a gust of hot air from both nostrils, and he slid back just a touch. Swarming shapes were appearing now, smaller than Max’s form themselves, scales and tails, a wave of colours – kobolds, he thought, distantly. They helped pull away the last of the clothes, ill-fitting on his new softer shape. They chucked his sword into the pile of metal in the corner, chittering and fascinated, a dozen small sharp hands pressing into his skin. The last few bits of armour were taken, peered into, but his focus was more on the fascinated, draconic creatures that were exploring him.

“What..?” he mumbled, distracted. They had realised there was saliva on him; got to work licking it off, spreading him, one trailing it’s tongue over his dick as he gasped, grabbing onto a horn, not sure what he wanted only that everything was throbbing and this was right, this was good, he would be the dragon’s toy, his soft body perfect to carry it’s heavy eggs – and so the beast appeared again. A low growl, and the kobolds dropped back, blinking up with love filled, round dark eyes at their master. It sniffed deeply of Max, nuzzling into his chest again, gently sealing it’s mouth around him. And whilst he could feel the immense power, the deadly teeth, he didn’t panic as it lifted him; moving him tenderly, gently, and laying him on something – soft. A pile of musty furs and fabrics, part of it’s hoard, and releasing him there. Shock, or perhaps something more, knocked him clean off his feet, landing heavily on the pile. He leant back, breathing heavy, exhilirated by the danger, the thrill, and the trust. And now the dragon pressed it’s muzzle deep.

It didn’t hesitate to slip it’s tongue inside his soaking body. He cried out in raw pleasure as the heat thrilled through him; not sated yet, the potion still burning, but he had reached dthe end, and this was it, his reward; his gift; to become part of the dragon’s hoard, after all. And it would be bliss, he was sure, as his cock convulsed and he tensed and cried out, flopping back again into the furs and bucking it’s hips. There was no doubt the dragon was pleased, pulling away, eyes sparkling as it growled something almost like a laugh at how easily he went. And as it drew back, sitting up slightly, a paw went down to palm at it’s cock. As long and thick as his forearm – Max was sure he’d never be able to take it. The beast sniffed at him, as if contemplating the same, then turned away. It’s wings shuffled, tail lifted, and he saw the heavy balls hanging between it’s legs… thought of all the seed packed away and twitched hard, halfway to cumming on just that thought…

When the beast returned a few moments later, it lowered it’s mouth and opened it above him; a perfectly round, softly glowing crystal, smooth and gorgeous. It huffed slightly, as he took it – and felt the warmth within it. A magical artefact… more powerful even than his glowing rune. A gift? But the dragon’s eyes met his, and he understood, the wonderful creature – the lover – able to communicate more by the moment. And so he slipped it inside himself, gasping at the sensation, the pleasure. His body gripped, pulled, and he squirmed, moaned; then the tongue was back, and it was pushing deeper and deeper. No pain, only warmth, pleasure. A faint pop – and when he looked down he could see it glowing, deep inside him, before it steadily faded. This was nothing like the spicy heat from the potion, but a settling warmth, changing him from the inside out. Now he looked at their cock, and laid back, spreading his legs again.

As he climbed over Max, the cock hung low, drooling thick pre. Ridged, shimmering and – beautiful. The tip was pointed, and tiny spines hung off the eddge of the head, as if it was designed to go in but be unwilling to come back out. Fuck, it looked – so good. With trembling fingers he stroked and then led it down, leaning his body up, as it made the first kiss with his entrance. A deep, old curse growled from his lips. Then inch by inch, he spread around it. Cursing turned to panting. Pain never came, but instead bliss at just how hard his body worked, the magic inside him doing it’s work. He knew he’d be able to always take his lover’s cock, now, and lay any egg, no matter the size, and what a thought, to fill him with such a deep joy that he came. Clenching hard, howling, and his partner laughed, and began to rock. In moments they settled to a rhythm, Max’s mind a foggy mess, soft body rising and falling. He placed a hand on his tummy, feeling when each thrust went to it’s deepest point… time became a foggy mess of pleasure and drooling.

When his master began to pick up the pace, Max rocked with him, rasping words of encouragement, of pleasure – feeling the swell, and the push, and then – oh, fuck, so tight – pushing the boundaries of the magic in his flesh – and pumping. Gods, the pumping, each twitch so powerful, a firehose of cum blaring inside him. Twitch and pump and pulse, and he could feel his belly swelling, breeding, gasping and groaning, as his body went entirely lax and all he could feel was being filled. He rubbed the lump as it went from a grapefruit, to a melon, to a greater size than he could quantify. There must be at least a barrel of potent, burning dragon cum inside him – and finally, easing the ache the potion had left in him. A dozen more aches to take it’s place, but for now, he was limp, drooling. The dragon adjusted carefully, holding him safe, as it rested, still driven deep into his body. He felt like a toy. It felt like bliss.

When the movement started again, Max’s brain was floating. He couldn’t quite believe it. The knot had slipped down, just enough for Mechaus to start moving again. When they struck deep, his belly sloshed, and it made his head spin all over again. Time slipped by, lost in a haze, lost in pleasure and fullness and bliss. And when the dragon began to speak, clear in his messed up head, it was words of love and hope and everything he could have helped…

-

‘You can do it, my love.’ whispered the deep rumble in his head. He groaned, wrapping an arm around their neck, lifting him with great difficulty to his feet. The clutch was unbelievably heavy – he was sure some of his back muscles were coming back in. Although Mechaus insisted he liked Max just the way he was – perfect for supporting the clutch they were going. “How much longer?” he grumbled, huffing between his teeth. ‘Not long. Do you know, my Kobolds spotted something earlier?’ the dragon whispered into his brain. ‘Another intrepid explorer coming on in. They happened to visit a little shop on their way down… one of my acolytes owns it.’ and the dragon rumbled a laugh, and Max huffed. “You’re incorrigible.” he muttered, even if he was smiling slightly. “They won’t make it down here. Nobody ever gets this far.” ‘Only one.’ Mechaus whispered, and Max rolled his eyes, then gasped. “Oh.” he whispered. “Think we’re out of time.”

#my stories

[arkturusz]

@cult-of-the-eye here it is, hope you like it :3

MAG[REDACTED] - Blood in the Machine

Anonymous statement, regarding the statement maker's purchase and use of a strange desktop computer. Original statement given 4th of February 2024, recording by Arcturus Walker, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, Budapest. Put to tape on the 21st of March 2024. Statement begins:

I don't want to go into details as to why I came to make this decision. It was an offer too good to be true, just what a struggling university student needed: a cheap PC with great specs and with only 2 years of usage. I know how some sellers put enticing prices on Facebook Marketplace just to drop the real deal in later messages, but that wasn't the case. The owner got his hands on "something better" and saw no use in keeping this one around so he asked for the bare minimum that would still be a deal to him.

I went to pick up the desktop, it was a city away so I drove there. It was a bit weird how creeping closer to the destination all we had were dirt roads. I live in the suburbs, I know not all city councils pay it enough attention, but these weren't those dusty solid roads. These were muddy, the tracks barely visible and overgrown with grass. No, not grass, something more- vibrant.

The roads branched off a few hundred meters from my destination, only one going in its general direction so I followed it. I reached a house, no buildings in its neighborhood, crop fields on one side, a small forest on the other, the kind that always seems way more moist than the weather would allow it and always has that smell of thick mud and insects. I could only *enjoy* that for a moment before I got hit with something else, something fleshier. It was a stench that burnt into my nostrils. I try not to judge a house by the smell, my parents were chainsmokers and I've always been more ashamed to bring friends home than it seemed they were bothered by the odor. Assuming I just met a butcher, or really just someone that keeps their own livestock I headed inside.

It felt like a hallucination, it really did. I stepped into a corridor, my lungs full of the dull yet powerful stench that covered everything. My brain felt foggy and with a headache that felt like pressure on my skull I continued inside. I was hoping to pick up the computer and get going right away, and I did my best to accomplish just that. I lifted the PC which was rather heavy and hurried back the way I came when something caught my attention. As I was putting my shoes on my brain alerted me of movement. From all around. The walls seemed to have this rhythmic pulse to them. If I wasn't at the doorstep I would've fainted, that's for sure, but I made it out to my car, telling myself it's the headache getting to me.

The drive back was nothing out of the ordinary, but that foul smell just wouldn't leave my nose. I parked, opened my boot and to no surprise the aroma oozed out of the case like a thick invisible fog, bringing back that numbing pressure that I felt earlier. I grabbed all the cleaning chemicals and similar that I could find lying around, giving it a thorough rub on the outside. I pride myself on my expertise in software, but the hardware always confused me and I never bothered to learn it. Thus I did not want to open it up, which proved to be a grave mistake.

For 6 months straight there seemed to have been no problem with the PC. It worked as intended, was just as fast as I expected and the smell was only noticeable if you got up close to sniff the case. Which I didn't. But two days ago I didn't need to either. I woke up to a strange smell. It wasn't as strong or numbing as the one I felt at the house but it certainly wasn't pleasant. We had maintenance that night, we were notified that from 10pm we should be expecting a blackout. I didn't mind, but it seemed that whatever was in my computer did not like it. I decided to give it another round of cleaning once I was done with my cup of coffee. I dressed up and went to pull out the cables on the back, but they were a lot harder to unplug than I remembered. I ripped out the one which was most limiting length-wise and I pulled the rest of the case out from under my desk. As I saw the back of the PC I had to stop myself from throwing up.

Now I'm not afraid of gore, I grew up in a generation (and the subcultures) that made it such a commonplace it's usually unamusing. On screen, at least. But I didn't expect to come face to face with a chunk of skin stretching across where my plugs should have been. The cable I ripped out laid on the floor, a dark red liquid dripping from it, staining my carpet. Same thing could be found on the back of the case. Turns out the cable wasn't just stuck, it was *integrated* into the fleshy mess that shouldn't have been there.

That's when I got a screwdriver and ripped the case open. It seemed like the only logical way to deal with whatever infested my computer and I didn't know what else I could do. The case came away like a sticker, the inside melted to a wall of human-like skin, peeling away it left a residue of perspiration on the plastic.

The flesh monster's skin seemed to have formed a block, covering its insides from all angles, pressing against the vents and pushing out through the outlets. The cord I ripped had left a nasty hole that started to scar up, but I wanted to see what I was up against and I *didn't let it*. I scraped away the scar tissue with the screwdriver and pushed it through the wound, detaching the vein that supplied my cable from the wall of skin. The case still hugging it from the outside cast a shadow that made it hard for me to see in, so I turned on my flashlight, stretching at the hole with my tool, trying to take a peek.

I saw veins running across the surface, the inside was humid and *warm*, at least warmer than room temperature but it wasn't the heat of a working human body. It was starting to cool. In the middle of the case I saw something heavy, a huge knot in the middle of the circulatory system which kept beating in a steady rhythm. It was slow, the pulse was invisible from the outside, yet it kept pushing blood through the opening, trying to close it up, but the scarring slowed down significantly from when I first ripped that cable out. It ran on electricity, it had to have been the case, the inside had a greenish tone from what I could make out, meaning that during the blackout it started rotting. The system that somehow ran like a normal computer for months started to decay, which reminded me of the smell my brain ignored from my initial shock that once again sat heavy in my lungs.

I did not reconnect it but I didn't know what to do with it either. Who would have I called? I scoured the internet to find your institute, and I left my PC to you. Past making this statement I wish not to associate myself with this case any longer.

Statement ends. First thing after reading this statement I went down to artifact storage to ask about this curio. Turns out whoever left it to us delivered it too late, the "heart" was not beating and the thing once stretched against the walls of it's case now sat collapsed and rotten in the organic section, making any other follow-up almost impossible. Looking for the flesh house also yielded no results, meaning I will put this case to rest as-is. What does keep me wondering are the intentions of the seller. Why would an avatar of the Flesh sell a piece of itself to an unsuspecting individual? There was no mention of the *flesh block* attempting to leave its case meaning there was no intention of spreading the system either. Maybe they didn't intend the buyer to possess it for so long, maybe they tried to alert us of their vicinity. But they failed. They left us with a cold trail. *sigh* Recording ends

This is episode one of my series I call MAGREDACTED, here are all the episodes out now:

The Vast The Stranger The Dark

New episodes will be posted over on @archivus !

#tma #tma fanart #MAGREDACTED #originals #tma fanepisode #the flesh #writing #jon sims

[quietlyimplode]

Clintasha Advent (6)

Prompt Clint & Nat in her early Shield days: she doesn't understand the act of giving presents without expecting anything in return and/or doesn't want to accept a present as she doesn't want to be even more in Clint's dept (in her way of thinking). Have a wonderful Advent season!

For/Prompter: @callousedhandskindhearts

Warnings: much of this is under the cut because a lot refers to quid-pro-quo gifting, and what that meant for the girls in the red room. There is nothing graphic in there as it’s all conversations.

Word count: 680

A/N: if I had the time, I’d make this longer. I hope your advent season is also lovely.

.

Clint looks at the candle Maria shows him.

“I think she needs something different than a candle,” he tells her, smelling it then putting back.

The shopping centre felt like a bust.

“What are we going to do with her at Christmas?” Maria asks, holding up another for him to smell.

“She’s not a lost dog,” he replies disdainfully.

“Do you think she even understands the concept?”

The words feel offensive to Clint as he looks at his friend with a disapproving frown.

“I’m not being mean,” she starts.

“I’m just saying, that if you give her something and she has nothing to give you, do you think that she’ll feel obliged to give you something… you know, in the way that she previously been made to?”

Clint feels his heart sink.

He understands what Maria is getting at.

“You’re not being mean, but calling her a whore?”

Maria hits him.

“No, you know that’s not what I meant. I’ve been by your side for this journey. I’m the one that’s been debriefing her, just like you have, and we both know how she reacts to being given things. She either doesn’t take it, or feels the need to give something back. Remember the bed incident?”

Clint remembers.

Natasha hadn’t slept in it until he flat out asked her why.

He wishes he hadn’t heard it.

How the girls of the red room had to earn their bed and then been chained to them. How’d she’d asked, standing tall across for him if Sheild was the same.

He’d wanted to be sick as he hold her no, nothing in the room required any sacrifice of self.

Clint stops in front of the books and groans.

“Can you talk to her about it?”

Maria picks up a best seller and puts it back.

“Me? Why can’t you?”

Clint shrugs, “I dunno, it just feels weird.”

Rolling her eyes, Maria agrees, she can read in between the lines, and knows the looks between them.

She throws the candle at Clint.

“Get this for Coulson,” she laughs.

.

Maria waits until she’s driving in the car with Natasha, the invitation accepted with encouragement from Clint and suspicious look.

Maria gets the feeling that Natasha only agreed because she wanted to say something too.

They’re ten miles into a drive before Natasha speaks.

“Clint is going to get me something for Christmas isn’t he?”

Maria hazards a look at her.

Natasha’s eyes look out the window.

“Does it worry you?”

They may as well cut to the crux of the matter.

“Yes.”

Maria wants to put her at ease, but likely it’s not the easiest thing to do.

“Would you prefer he didn’t?”

Natasha doesn’t answer straight away.

“Where I come from, presents and gifts don’t mean what they do here. To accept it, it means unlearning a lot.”

Maria is quiet.

She understands.

She doesn’t want to.

“Does Christmas have the same… trauma?”

Maria knows it’s the wrong word and probably too forward but she’s wondering if there’s a way that they can celebrate without triggering her. Without it being a day that Natasha would rather stay in her pyjamas and read a book.

The non answer is probably all she’s going to get.

“For the record, it doesn’t mean the same here, a gift is just a gift. Nothing needs to be reciprocated, you’re not in anyone’s debt.”

Maria turns into the car park.

“I’m always in his debt. These little things just cement it further.”

Maria opens her car door, then moves around to Natasha’s.

“Why are we here?”

Maria nods to the large shopping Centre.

“I’ve got some shopping to do, and you’re going to help me.”

.

1/ Clint/Nat/Laura + traditions

2/ Clintasha + temporary blindness

3/ Clint/Nat/Maria + traditions

4/ Natasha and Yelena watch the stars

5/ Clintasha - stab wounds + wrapping presents

#Clintasha Advent 2023 #natasha romanoff #clintasha #black widow #clint barton #my fic #hawkeye #natasha romanoff fic #clintasha fanfiction #clintasha fanfic #Maria Hill #Clintasha Advent

[harrietvane]

Perfume chat, because it's hot, summer's ending, and I'm of a mind to list out some of my favourite Hot Weather Perfumes. To be fair, once it gets above 30C/86F, I don't tend to wear scent, but all these I ones I could, and have worn in hot weather, and worth mentioning. Lot of citrus going on here, not much floral, and heavily leaning towards citrus cologne strenght (and away from big floral, gourmand, or sweet eaux de parfum). BYO gender, none of these are marketed specifically one way or another.

-Cédrat Enivrant (Atelier Cologne): the 'cedrat' here is not referring to cedar, but to the ur-citrus known in english as the Citron, aka the mighty Etrog. It's one of the original citrii from which all others spring: it's lumpy, bitter, like 60% rind, and doesn't care what you think. Cedrat Enivrant is a bitter cocktail cologne resembling a French 75 - which is gin and champagne - but dry AF. There's a mintiness, and a pine needle dryness as well. Starts off very high and tart, dries down herbal.

Paris-Deauville (Chanel): part of their Eaux de Chanel cologne-style lighter series, this is an orange/basil combo that stays fairly light and dry - the sweetness is from orange, but otherwise the addition of basil heart note keeps this summery and green. Starts off quite juicy, but 'dries' as it dries, ending in mostly sweet herbs, and the basil is unexpected. Light enough to be a splash bottle though, not a typical Chanel.

Blenheim Bouquet (Penhaligon's): despite going all-in on flashy, heavier things lately, Penhaligon's keeps the old BB on the shelf because I'm p sure it's still one of their best sellers: it's a classic for a reason. Despite listing notes of lemon, black pepper and pine, this comes off mainly with a 'clean pencil shavings' vibe on me, and it suits that freshly-sharpened pencil image. Lemony, sharp, dry, precise. if it was a person it would be Anton Lesser's character in Endeavour.

Melograno (Santa Maria Novella): I sought this out after seeing it on-screen in Casino Royale as one of Vesper Lynd's few belongings in Venice, and it did not disappoint. A warning: despite the name, if you go in expecting a syrupy bath and bodywork's style fruity pomegranate, or dislike things 'that smell like perfume' this perfume is not for you. There is very little, if any, fruit in Melograno, and I confess it's a surprise entry to a cologne-y summer list because it lists several flowers (and oakmoss! and patch!), BUT the reality of it on me is dry dry dryyyy. I have worn this in very hot weather, and the impression is a herbal soap in the cleanest italian bathroom that's ever existed, with a rigid linen handtowel, and some dried flowers in a bowl on the window.

Bergamotto di Positano (Floris): if you DID want fruit, but not syrup, Floris has you covered for orange and mandarin. It steers away from Body Shop fruit with marine notes, but don't let that dissuade you if you avoid CK One types: there's a softness to this from some ginger, green tea, and vanilla in the background. Never goes overly gourmand on me despite the fact that these are all edible things.

Ouarzazate/Series 3 (Comme des Garçons): whaaaaat, an incense in a summer list?? Adding it here as we can't have an entirely citrine list, and this makes the cut due to DRY. CdG did a little series on incense of various styles (the most infamous being Avignon, which does actually smell like a realistic in-use thurible, so hats off to them), and Ouarzazate is their desert incense vibe. It's clean in that dry sauna/spa room sort of way. It's the driest and woodiest of the 4 they did imho. Like walking into a shady, cool, dark wooden room when it's hot outside.

Le Pamplemousse (Miller Harris): MH perfumes divide into those made when Lyn Harris was the nose (interesting, lots of werird herbal combos), and those after she left (generally bigger and sweeter) - this is one of the former. Obviously grapefruit as a theme, which is always a nice bitter citrus for summer, this wears like a crisp white shirt. Despite mentioning things like rhubrarb, the notes are kept in strict order by rosemary, sage, and vetiver. The grapefuit fades as the herbs take over on drydown, manages to evoke clean laundry with no musk. (Bonus points: I have also loved Le Petit Grain from the same house for its twiggy orange tree bundle vibes, but it's discontinued)

Budget options: some countries get great sampling or decanting services (not mine, booooo), and getting 10mls of the above might be easier for you than me, but if not: here's some you can get for a lot less cash but still give you quality-

Vetiver Pamplemousse (Zara): done by theee Jo Malone, so that gives you an idea of the vibe (light, approachable). It's grapefruit, tangerine, and vetiver. Vetiver keeps it dry, quite linear development. Might be slightly 'spicier' than the MH Pampelmousse, or at least more vetiver-forward. Comes in a rollerball for those wanting a short commitment!

4711 (Mäurer & Wirtz): how could i not end on the OG, the classic, the unbeatable 4711. Four-Seven-Eleven has been freshening up people's bathroom routines since 1799, and boasts of a recipe (mostly?) unchanged since Napoleon was tramping around the area. It's citrus, it's lavender, it's romemary, it evaporates in 8 seconds, it's fresh lemony goodness. It's an aftershave, it's a cologne, it's a linen spray, it's a bath soak, is there nothing it cannot do? M&W have started to do endless 'remixes' of the base cologne, in many fruit and floral varieties, but the classic is where it's at. And it costs almost nothing.

#perfume #text post shenanigans #some of these do travel sizes and giftsets (floris and pen's mainly) and SMN does an amaaazing cake soap in that perfume #might do an autumn/winter list later in the season #[edited for typos after posting!]

[cleolinda]

This does not spark Joy (Dior, 2018 & 2019)

PREVIOUSLY ON: Jean Patou's Joy (1930) was voted the Scent of the Century, but for some mysterious reason, it's not manufactured anymore.

Dior fucking killed Joy.

I won't bury the lede here at all. It was Dior. And I love a good Dior, don't get me wrong. But in August 2018, LVMH Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton (which owns every damn thing, including Sephora and half the brands in it) bought the Jean Patou company (which had already changed hands twice). More importantly, they bought the name "Joy." And, somehow, their subsidiary Parfums Christian Dior had their own Joy, complete with Jennifer Lawrence ad campaign, ready to release two weeks later.

For a while, Designer Parfums was at least allowed to manufacture and sell Jean Patou's Joy in France. But now, according to the Patou website, the company's fragrances "are no longer in production." When "authorized outlets" run out, they're out. Because apparently, it was that important for Dior to keep anyone else from using the name "Joy."

So what did they replace the Scent of the Century with?

I had heard that Joy by Dior Intense was a huge improvement on the initial Joy by Dior (which infuriated fragrance aficionados itself by existing, clearly), and I'm glad I tried it first, because if I had started with the original ("original") Dior, I would have punched a wall. But let's start with that: I kept trying Dior Joy #1 over and over because I couldn't remember what it smelled like. It is literally, in the literal sense of literally, forgettable. I tried it one more time today in order to write this paragraph, and: it's soapy white musk. Which upset me initially, I remember now, because I'm just really not a fan of soapy/laundry white musk, but that's on me; I've seen user reviews that do really like Joy by Dior. On me, it's just bubblebath froth, eventually a sweet citrus that peeks up from under it, and a drydown that adds some vanilla to that. That's joyous, I guess?

What I will say is, unlike the other perfume that made me think of bubble baths, it didn't give me a panic attack, so it's got one up on Chanel. But it's just... was this necessary? Did we not have enough soapy white citrus-vanilla musks in the world? At the time, I was just asking myself this rhetorically, but then I kept reading up on the Dior Joy(s). As Victoria at Bois de Jasmin points out, the actual fragrance is a copy of yet another perfume:

The result is that Dior Joy is Allure Lite. The rose and jasmine are folded into a sandalwood accord reminiscent of Chanel’s fragrance. From the top notes to the drydown, Joy follows the course of Allure, but in a softer, more transparent interpretation. The mandarin peel dusted with sugar, the rose blended with the lemony jasmine, a touch of apricot and orange blossom that melt into the sandalwood and custard-like vanilla. Even the same contrast between the sweet citrus and creamy woods is maintained.

Mark Behnke at Colognoisseur:

[Dior perfumer François Demachy] chose to create a mash-up of two huge best-sellers. The citrus opening is straight out of Chanel Allure and the floral heart is Dior J'Adore. In other words, it is just a re-tread.

DIOR! WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING DOING!

I won't say that Joy Intense (Dior #2) is more like Jean Patou's, but at least it has less of a soapy musk opening. Let's compare the notes:

Joy by Dior (2018): White musk, Grasse rose, Grasse jasmine, mandarin orange, patchouli, bergamot, cedar, sandalwood.

Joy by Dior Intense (2019): Neroli, bergamot, Grasse jasmine, Grasse rose, vanilla, patchouli, musk, sandalwood.

[Note: Grasse, "the perfume capital of the world," is a region in France famous for its role in the history of French perfume; it is especially known for jasmine and roses. "Grasse rose," "May rose," and "Rose de Mai" all refer to Rosa x centifolia. "Grasse jasmine" is Jasminum grandiflorum, as opposed to, say, the licorice-friendly jasmine sambac.]

Further info from dior.com:

Get the absolute fuck out of here with this BOTTLE and this LOGO, what are you even doing. I did not even know a perfume could eat crackers

Joy by Dior, per the official website:

JOY by Dior Eau de Parfum is a bright smile, and a pure concentration of joy in a bottle. A juicy, vibrant top note gives way to an enveloping white heart of flowers and musks, just like a soft caress.

Again, I hated Dior's first Joy when I first put it on, but that's my own bias. It was just sheer disappointment that they centered this on synthetic white musk—you vaulted the Scent of the Century for this?

The "Intense" version:

Oh well if there’s a star on the bottom I guess I’m not mad anymore??

JOY by Dior Eau de Parfum Intense is a new olfactory burst, a scent of joy wherein flowers celebrate and explode in all their faceted beauty. The dazzling light of the juicy Citrus blends with the colorful shine of Rose and Grasse Jasmine, and is heightened by an enveloping woody echo of Sandalwood tinged with Vanilla. The fragrance results in a floral firework.

Fuck the actual fuck outta here. "Firework" my ass. It's fine, I guess. It smells like vanilla lemonade and some jasmine on me, with a pleasant lingering drydown. Not just the smell of lemonade, but sort of the feeling of happiness you get when drinking a sugary glass of it on a hot summer day. Don't ever say I don't try to be fair. And it's 1000% better without the white musk. I honestly wouldn't mind wearing this under a different name, but it's just so adequate. I put on Jean Patou's Joy, even a diminished Joy, and it was a revelation. I put on the Dior, even the "good" version, and it smells like copying what the popular girls wear in hopes that they’ll like you. Thank God they didn't stuff some Ambroxan in there while they were at it. The only reason Dior didn't dupe some trendy note from Baccarat Rouge 540 is because Francis Kurkdjian didn't work for them yet. What the fuck are you people doing.

Back to Colognoisseur:

[It] is puzzling why Dior would make the decision to produce a new perfume with the same name of a masterpiece. The cynic in me says because they’ve unleashed their market research staff and found out most consumers have no idea there is a previous classic perfume called Joy. [...] Joy by Dior is a good perfume put together via the perfume assembly line of focus groups and market research; as cynical as it gets in other words.

This is absolutely my take as well. I wore Jean Patou on one hand and Dior's Joy Intense on the other and compared how they unfolded in real time, and what struck me most at that point was how gourmand-adjacent the Dior is. Not entirely so, but the vanilla lemonade I get is far more in line with the cupcake and burnt sugar notes (WHICH I LIKE!) that fragrance brands have put in everything since Mugler’s Angel, rather than just let a floral be good—superlative—at being a floral. But the marketing department says that the Costliest Perfume in the World isn’t on trend in the 21st century; we can charge plenty for something simpler, more predictable, more pandering.

My other take is that Dior's Joy perfumes are formulated to inevitably be cheaper than Jean Patou's Joy, even what Joy was at the end of the company's life. I have smelled at least a Platonic shadow of the Costliest Perfume in the World, and (I don't care how much Grasse jasmine Dior claims is in theirs) this ain't it. I don't blame François Demachy; he was given a brief and he did his job. The man made not one but two versions of Hypnotic Poison. He has done more interesting things than this. Dior’s Joy has "cash grab" written all over it and it's not even bad. It's just WHY. Why would you DO THIS. I am going to stay mad and die mad about this. Jesus Christ. You can't even, like, gently reformulate the Jean Patou, put out the Demachy versions as flanker fragrances, and market them all? You have four kinds of Poison RIGHT NOW and you can’t figure this out?

And I wore these three perfumes for three weeks, I want you to know that. I alternated them day by day, sometimes wearing two at a time to compare. I gave them all many, many chances. And besides the fact that I personally don't like white musk very much, the two Dior Joys are not bad. They're not! They're just accessories to a minor act of cultural vandalism, is all. Imagine taking Botticelli's The Birth of Venus and saying, we're going to throw this out so we can have a photographer recreate it with Jennifer Lawrence. Everyone's wearing Dior Spring/Summer 2023 designs (including Venus). It actually looks pretty cool, I guess. Great, so we don't need the Botticelli anymore? When does the trash get picked up, Tuesday?

Even Disney doesn't vault its animated movies anymore after it remakes them as live action. Maybe I can scrape up enough couch change to buy a bottle of Real Actual Joy and some DVDs before anyone else gets some big ideas.

Perfume discussion masterpost

#perfume #perfume discussion #long post #perfume: jean patou #perfume: dior #AND ANOTHER THING #note: rose #note: jasmine #note: white musk

[docholligay]

The raison d’etre for this trip, in its conception, was to see the Christmas markets of Germany and the UK. I don’t know if I’ll say that is actually how it turned out, given how many UK markets Mom has taken a quick turn around and then decided to go do something else, like sit in a pub or sit in a different pub*. It must be said that, in this department, Germany beats the UK as rightly and soundly as [insert inappropriate WWII joke here]. The Christmas ‘markets’ in the UK are largely consisting, at least based on my survey of four large and major ones, repackaged items that are largely not handcrafted by the seller, a lot of food stalls, and, bless it, a number of bars. Not a bad tme if I lived in any of these cities but assuredly not something worth crossing that Atlantic for. 

But the German Christmas markets were mostly as advertised. Even the more commercial among them had foods that carried the air of the traditional, made extensive effort to continue the line of culture that had been there for generations, and curled around themselves in long circles that invited more of a chance to meander than a strict row system that kept you going down a shooting gallery of booths. The Frankfurt market, even straight off the plane ride with a roughly 3 hour night, dazzled with its sense of history and its easy strolls through to the bar. It was at this market that I tried what I might call, “The drink of the trip”

Fuerzangenbowle, the best hot alcoholic drink I had never encountered even in writing, even in passing, truly a genius invention.** What this is, is mulled wine, already getting points from me, but then they soak a cone of sugar in rum and light it on fire so it drips down into the wine. I would have told you i wouldn’t care for that because it would make it too sweet, but it really doesn’t. What it does, is add a note of toasted caramel to the wine, a slightly burnt taste that adds to the larger whole. It is so good, that I am going to go home and see if I can buy some kind of piloncillo that’s small enough to work for the single serving cup. I don’t know that I would try and make it for a crowd, I’ll leave that to the professionals, but I do love lighting things on fire as my wife will, sighing heavily, attest to. 

All of them were good, and Cologne in general was much more charming than I had been led to believe it would be, but it was there we came upon the best market of them all: 

The old town market. 

We stopped there simply because it was the next place on the little train that takes you from market to market, but I was immediately captured by it. Busy and crowded, people miling around each other like little bees, the hum of their voices uniting into a low buzz. A violin plays “Come Emmanuel” at the door, and the long, high voice of it carries above and weaves through. The bright and bustle as the lights glow against the darkness, fairytale in the way that I could never hope to describe to another human being. I had to take a breath as i stepped inside. It was a Christmas market as you imagine them, a watercolor made real, the cold of the air touching your cheeks, the smell of mulled wine in the air, all of it immediate and total. All of it something that somehow seemed a dream, as if i’d been pulled into a book though admittedly in my fairy story slightly less people would be wearing beanies and puffy jackets, but what is fantasy without a little grime on it? 

In this one it also seemed that the traders had been vetted to some extent in the main square, and so was near-exclusively people who had made the objects in their booths. We spoke to people when possible, given my hilariously limited German, about their stuff, and gawked at it, and I bought a little mug for my daughter with her name on it, that the woman painted right in front of us. 

Whether the rest of the markets were a disappointment*** or not was hardly material at this point, because my mother was so entranced by the old market. She spoke of it all the time on the trip, as we were going through other markets, as we sat in a pub, as we put on our pajamas. I think it will probably take the crown for experiences on this trip. I can think of only a few that might unseat it. My mother’s face as we wandered through the market was all the confirmation I needed that this was the right choice. 

And so I am delighted to inform myself that Germany was a success. I said I would never return there, I let myself be talked into it, and I had a wonderful time. 

*This sounds like a complaint, but is full of delight. I have two favorite things to do when I travel: Walk miles and miles around a city (absolutely not happening here, there is a hot short list of people in my life who can walk as fast and far as I can) and go to pubs, bars, etc where there are a fair amount of locals and people like to talk. See my unwieldy essay on how much I like people for reference. 

**The best mulled wine I had, however, does in fact go to the UK. Specifically, Peacock’s Tea Room in Ely had the absolute best mulled wine I had in the entire trip, the seasoning was exceptional, it was not overly sweet, the cup contained some soaked fruit and sliced almonds, it was truly exceptional and I know I’ll be trying to style my mulled wine off it for a long while. 

***Things are rarely a true disappointment to me because I operate on the idea that everything in life is a lesson, is information, and if it wasn’t what I built up in my head, that is information, and it’s information I can pass on to others. Sometimes i love a miserable story as much as a successful one. Attitude can change the color of many situations, and I tend to be very adpatable and cheerful, and also i froze to death or it was crowded or whatever whatever is more often than not, not what I will carry away from any given situation. But, this is somewhat unique to me and I’ve spent a long time cultivating a sense of appreciation for these things, so I felt a little bad for my mom. 

[iambabygorl]

Cherried

Eren Yeager x Reader

My literal notes on this idea from a month ago: Eren is your drug dealer and he likes you secretly and sends you money for your nails when you ask and it’s hot asf

Warnings: drug use, very much 18+

Word count: roughly 4K

Masterlist

“You’re seriously going to meet this guy in an alley outside a bar at midnight? Is this some top secret agent Cody Banks shit?”

You rolled your eyes at your friends questions as you pulled your dress over your head, careful to not smudge any makeup.

“Yes. I am going to meet him there. He’s my brothers/sisters dealer. I’m not too worried about it. Besides, you’ll be there with me.”

Your friends eyes widened as she waved her hands frantically in the air.

“Oh no no miss ma’am. This is all you. I’ll be your get away driver but I am not about to die in an ally at midnight for some good kush. Why can’t you just buy it at a licensed seller like most of us do?”

“Because,” you started, sliding your feet into your heals, “(siblings name) said this guy has the best shit known around here. I just want to see for myself.”

“Whatever you say. You look hot by the way. Maybe you’ll get it for free.” She said with a wink, handing you your purse to match your heels.

“Maybe I’ll throw on some charm then. Is this dress cleavagey enough?”

Your friend stood back, looking you up and down before nodding.

“Oh yes. If he doesn’t fuck you and give you free weed, I’m sure someone will.”

**********

The neon lights from the bar reflected off the puddles of water left in the street. The sidewalk traffic had dwindled down as you made your way outside the bar, checking left and right for passerby’s.

Checking your phone you noted the time.

11:58 P.M.

Your chin began to vibrate as the cool wind of the night cut right through you, making you shove your hands in your jacket pockets to pull it tight around you.

You shook your nerves away as you forced your feet towards the alleyway beside the building. It was a small walkway between the bar and the apartment complex next door, but you thanked whoever was listening for it being relatively clean.

A flicking sound made your head snap up, eyes catching the glimpse of a small flame a few yards ahead.

You slowed your pace, eyes never leaving the man that leaned against the brick wall, one leg propped against it as his hands cupped the lighter in his hand as he lit a joint that was nestled between his lips.

He didn’t look up as you stopped beside him. He took a long drawl, puffing out smoke into the air that soon filled your nose with the familiar smell.

“H-hello.” You said once you gathered the courage to speak. He was intimidating. A very large, and handsome I might add, man with his hair in a bun. His leather jacket was slightly worn and the dark circles under his green eyes seemed to deepen as he cut his eyes at you.

“Hello.” His voice was deep. Gravely. Something that any normal person would want to run away from if they heard it.

But it drew you in further, making you take another step forward, closing the gap a bit more.

“I think you have something for me.”

His left eyebrow raised at your statement. He dropped his leg down from the wall, turning to fully face you as he looked you up and down.

“There is no way you’re (siblings name)’s sister.”

It was your turn to pop your eyebrow up in question. You crossed your arms across your chest as you cocked your head to the side.

“And why do you think that?”

You didn’t miss the smirk that tugged at his lips as he eyed you up again. He took another puff if the joint as he bent down close to your face.

You felt your stomach turn at the man’s actions. You choked as you tried to swallow the nerves that were beginning to build back up again. How’s green eyes that bored into you didn’t make it any easier.

The next thing you know, smoke was blown into your face making you cough. You rubbed at the corners of your eyes to alleviate the burning.

“No reason. No reason at all. Here.”

You caught the small bag that he tossed at you with ease. Examining the contents, you furrowed your eye brows at him.

“This is more than a gram.”

“I know.” He said with a shrug. “It’s your first time. I always give a bit more than needed for the first time in everything I do.” His wink made your chest heat up, noting what was probably an innuendo.

You thanked him, shaking off his smirk as you reached for your wallet.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Just tell your brother/sister that they owe me.”

And with that, he walked off. You stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish as you replayed what just happened.

You knew this guys stuff was good, so why would he give it to you for free? Especially when you were doing to pay him full price.

Pulling your phone out, you dialed your siblings number as you walked back to the bar entrance.

“Yo.” They said as they answered your call.

“Hey. Your guy is weird.”

“Who? Eren?”

“Yeah.”

They chuckled, making you roll your eyes.

“What makes you think that?”

“He just gave me more than what we agreed on. And he didn’t want me to pay him.”

Silence fell over the both of you making you wonder if they were still there.

“You ther-“

“He gave it to you for free?”

You nodded as if they could see you. You hummed in reply, stopping your walk as you stood at the front window to the bar, peeking in to wave at your friend.

“Yep.”

A sigh was heard from the other end.

“I guess I’ll be paying that off….or you will.”

“Me?”

Your brother/sister hummed to answer your question.

“Yep. Eren is like that. But I’ll see if I can just pay it off for ya. No worries.”

“Thanks bestie.”

“No problemo kiddo. Talk to ya later.”

You hung up as your friend exited the bar, shaking their coat on as you smiled at them.

“Well, nice time?”

“Mhm. Very.”

*************

Unknown: so, did you like it?

Your eyebrows furrowed at the text that glowed on your phone screen.

You: Huh

Your phone dinged not even a second later with another text from the number.

Unknown: you know exactly what I’m talking about, Y/N. Don’t play coy.

You: Eren?

Unknown: Who else?

You rolled your eyes, taking a drag from your blunt as you opened your camera. You snapped a picture as you blew out the smoke, hooded eyes making contact with the lens. You attached the picture, sending it with your text.

You: not too bad

Eren: that’s it?

You roll your eyes, wanting to enjoy your smoke in peace. Does he want you to compliment his stuff so bad?

You: fine. It’s great. Best smoke I’ve ever had.

A minute passed before his next text. You jump up to answer, a smile creeping up your face along with your blush.

Eren: good girl. 

You turn your phone off, throwing your head back in your pillow as you put your blunt down in your tray, watching the cherry red end get snuffed out.

Your thoughts turn to the man responsible for your amazing high as your eyes grew heavy.

You bet your money his hair looks even better down. And you bet he looks good shirtless. He’s so tall and handsome….and he let you feel this good for free? What else would he do for you….

************

“Erennnnnn”

It had been about four months since your first meeting with Eren and you had come to him every other week for more of his product.

Eventually, you began to pay, no longer wanting your sibling to be responsible for paying up. Eren didn’t mind waiting though. He got his money, and he got to see you. That’s all that mattered.

Your meetings became longer every time you met. He allowed you to come to his apartment for pick up now, not wanting to “risk making you sick because he’d miss seeing that pretty little face of yours” as he put it.

“You know, I’m so glad you are coming to give me even more of your money, but please stop walking right in, babe. You’re annoying.”

His comment made you roll your eyes, making it easy to brush the pet name off.

He had started calling you “babe” and “baby” recently, and it’s not that you don’t like it, hell, you love it. But, it makes it even harder for your little fantasies to stay in check.

I mean, he is a very, very gorgeous man after all.

“Mhm, you love taking my money. You love seeing me even more. Admit it.”

He crossed his arms, standing tall in front of you as he cut his eyes down at your shorter stature.

“I despise you. You’re hot, don’t get me wrong, but you’re not worth the struggle.”

You scoff as you brush past him, plopping down on the couch as you laid down.

“I’ve become your best and favorite customer. You’ll have to deal with it.”

He smirked as he came to sit on the edge of the couch beside you, leaning down as he threw an arm over the back.

His nose almost brushed yours. You didn’t miss how his eyes flicked to your lips.

“Fuck you.”

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to giggle in giddiness as you raised your leg, propping it up so it grazed his side.

“Want to?”

Eren pulled back slightly, sighing as he swallowed thickly.

He pulled himself up to stand, walking to the kitchen and disappearing behind the cabinets.

He returned moments later, a small pink bag in hand, and tossed it to you.

“There you are. Your punch card is full so you get this one free. Don’t tell (siblings name).”

“Why? What punch card?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“You know, that thing stores give out. You buy so much and fill out the punch card so you get a discount? And also, I’m about to cash in a favor from (siblings name).”

You hummed in reply, sitting up and stuffing the bag into your purse.

You stood, ready to head to work. As you thanked Eren, you made your way to the door.

Once you reached for the doorknob, a hand reached out to stop you, slowly closing the door back.

“Also,” Eren’s deep voice said as he gazed down at you, “you were right.”

Your eyes flickered to the way he kicked his lips.

“About?”

He smirked, leaning his head against the wall behind him.

“You are my favorite little customer. My cutest one, too.”

You couldn’t fight the smirk that tugged at your lips as you eyed him.

“Tell me, do you give all of your customers their own little “punch card”?”

Eren shook his head, eyebrows lifted as he smiled.

“Nope. Only the good girls.” He leaned forward a bit, stooping down to meet you eye to eye. “And so far, you’re my best girl.”

This tone had shifted into a whisper. His hooded eyes beamed into yours making your knees feel weak.

Why does Eren fucking Yeager have to be so damn attractive?

You cleared your throat, adjusting your posture.

“As I should be. Like it or not, I have you wrapped around my finger, Yeager.”

The man scoffed, head tilting back as he shook it in disagreement.

“You wished, sweetheart.”

You hummed in reply, knowing that if you just asked, he’d give you what you wanted. Anything you wanted.

“We’ll see. See you later, Yeager. Don’t miss me too much.”

“Mm, what a hard job that’ll be.”

**************

“I personally like the gel better than acrylics. They have more shine to the- are you even listening to me?”

You were indeed not listening to your friend.

You were currently staring at your bare bank account on your phone, wondering how you allowed it to get so low.

You heard your friend take a sharp intake of breath next to you, pulling you out of your quiet panic.

“Oh, girl. What happened?”

You shook your head quickly, eyes darting around to the listed prices on the nail salon wall.

“I-I don’t know. I did have an extra car payment this month, but I thought I surely had enough to cover it and nails.”

Your friends eyes knitted together in concern as she threw an arm over your shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll cover you this time. It’ll be payback for the coffee you bought us last week—”

“No, I could never let you do that….but I think I have an idea…”

Her eyebrow raised in question as she watched you pull up your texts, silently opening the conversation between you and your dealer.

“Eren? Your you-know-what guy?”

You nodded, nerves beginning to eat away at your idea.

“You really think he will fork up the money for nails?”

“Well, we’ve kind of become friends, so maybe? I’ve gave him a lot of my money, so he should feel a little responsible for how low my bank account is.”

Your friend chuckled, waving you on as your fingers typed out the message.

You: Hey baby

A few seconds passed before your phone vibrated.

Eren: what do you want. What’s with the name?

You: what? I’m not allowed to call you cute things back?

Eren: not saying that at all. Glad to know I’m rubbing off on you;)

You rolled your eyes at the smirk. He seems to be in a good mood, so you prepare yourself to ask.

You: of course! Btw I have a question to ask you:)

Eren: what’s up

You cracked your knuckles, ready to risk it all.

You: could you pay for my nails pretty please

After pressing send, your eyes widened. The room began to feel hot as you felt sick to your stomach. You were prepared to get blocked, and your message had been sitting on read for too long before it dinged again.

“Oh, Jesus H. Christ.”

Your friend turned to you from her phone, leaning forward to see your nervous expression.

“What?”

“He asked how much.”

Your friends eyes widened this time. A smile took over her face as she grabbed your phone, reading through the messages.

“Y/N!! You could get whatever you wanted. Now would be the time since he’s paying!”

You shook your head, dancing your fingers over the text bar as you thought of a reply.

“No…I can’t do that to him. I’ll just get the regular.”

You: it should take maybe $50? Plus tip. That’s for what I usually get.

Eren: all right. Send me your PayPal.

You sent him your PayPal and turned to your friend.

“He’s sending me $50! I can get my nails done!”

You both cheered quietly as you were called to a chair.

As the minutes passed, you both made your way to the front to pay. You pulled out your phone to check your PayPal to see if the transaction went through.

However, you weren’t expecting to find what you saw.

Eren hadn’t sent you the $50.

No.

He sent you $250 with a note attached.

“Treat yourself with the rest, sweetheart?!”

You jumped at your friends voice that came from behind you as she read out the message Eren sent with the money.

“Geez! You scared the shit out of me!”

“If you do not fuck this man, I will gladly do it for you. What the hell?? He is wrapped around your finger!”

You felt something bubble inside of you. You had just told him you had him wrapped around your finger. He denied it, yet he just sent you $250.

Your friend grabbed your phone, accepting the payment for you and handed you your phone back.

“Well, what should we do now? You have some more money to spend.”

“No! I’m sending the rest back after I tip. I’m not taking all of that. He sent way too much.”

“You literally spend hundreds on his stuff sometimes. What’s wrong with taking a little back?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you paid, turning to your friend in slight annoyance.

“He’s a good guy. He’s trying to make a living too. I can’t take that money from him.”

“Fineeeee. I understand. Anything else you see that you want today though, I’m buying it. No take backs.”

You smiled as you linked arms, walking out the salon door.

Once you reached your friends car, you pulled your phone out again, sending the rest of the money you didn’t use back to Eren.

Not even a minute passes by when you felt your phone vibrate with a notification.

You hit the notification, opening PayPal again as you read the message.

Payment Declined

You found the smile that pulled at the corner of your lips.

That damn Eren Yeager.

**************

Eren: I’m having a party. Come.

The text was short and to the point. No further explanation given. But, you didn’t need one. You were going.

So there you were, walking up the stairs to his apartment because the elevator was broken, in your docs praying that you make it to Eren’s floor before you break a sweat and pass out.

You rounded the corner of your last flight, coming to a stop as you saw the form standing against the railing.

“Well, hello there.”

You took a moment to catch your breath before speaking a “hello” in reply.

The man was large. Very large. Blonde hair and honey hazel eyes with scruff that accented his smirk.

“I’m Reiner. Nice to meet ya. I take it you’re here for Eren’s party?”

You nodded as you stepped up the flight of stairs, now coming face to chest with the man.

“Y/N. And yes I am.”

“Well, Y/N, how about I show you the way?”

You didn’t say you knew the way. You just followed along, not bothering to shake off his arm that wrapped around your waist.

He was cute, so why the hell not?

As you arrived to apartment 845, you could hear the sound of Lo Fi music streaming through chatter and laughing.

Turning the doorknob, you showed yourselves in, Reiner escorting you through the cloud of smoke that hung in the air.

“Hey, guys! I found us another friend.” Reiners booming voice made heads turn your direction, making everyone cheer as they welcomed you in.

“And who might you be?”

“Jean, don’t make a move on the new girl. Let her get comfortable before you try to sleep with her.”

The one you assumed was Jean protested. “Sasha, what the hell? I just wanted to ask her her name!”

“Mhm. Well, what is your name, hon?”

You smiled, reaching out to meet Sasha’s fist bump with your own.

“Y/N. Her name is Y/N.”

Everyone’s head turned along with yours. The voice came from Eren who sat in a hammock hung in the corner of the room. A joint hung between his lips as he took a puff, blowing smoke that clouded his hooded eyes that held anger as he eyed you.

“Ooooo Eren, is she your girlfriend?” A boy with short grey hair asked, wiggling his eyes at the two of you.

Eren snorted, taking the joint between two fingers as he pulled it out of his mouth so he could stand. He walked over to you, eyes glaring at Reiner as he took the joint, holding it to your lips. A hand came up to wrap around the back of your head, holding you in place as you took a drag.

“Nah,” he said, licking his lips as he pulled you away from Reiner’s arm around your waist, “she’s my best customer.”

The joint lit up cherry red as you took a drag, eyes never leaving Eren’s as the group of people cheered you on and chorused “ooo’s” and “ah’s”.

Eren smirked as he bent his neck down to look at you, watching the smoke seep through your lips. You blew the smoke out, feeling your chest flutter as he sucked the smoke in his mouth.

Reiner chuckled as he backed up. He made his way to the rug where the others sat in a group.

You pulled your gaze away from Eren, swallowing the lump in your throat. You felt your cheeks burning, head already feeling light from the deep drag.

“Okay, you two, either get a room or come join the party.”

You giggle as you go to sit by the girl named Sasha. Eren sat across from you beside the blonde boy. Introductions were quickly made as you greeted everyone.

An hour passes as everyone makes small talk and smokes, all wanting to get to know more about you.

“Okay! Enough talk. We should play a game.” Sasha said from beside you.

“A game?” Mikasa and Jean ask at the same time.

“Yeah! Like would you rather or truth or dare. I could be fun.”

You heard a few groans as the others protested.

“Well- I think it could be fun.”

All heads turned to you as you spoke, a few smiling.

“Well there you have it. If new girl wants to do it, we do it. Let’s play truth or dare.” Armin said. “Annie, start us off.”

“Fine. Reiner, truth or dare.”

The buff man straightened his posture, taking a big sigh as he answered “truth”.

“Did you plan on going home with Y/N when you first came in with her?”

“I-I,” the man stuttered as he side eyed you.

“C’mon. You have to answer truthfully. I’ll go get the tequila if you don’t.”

Reiner swallowed thickly at Annie’s threat. Everyone giggled, leaning forward in anticipation.

“Yes.”

Connie and Sasha threw themselves back cackling as they tipped over bowls of snack foods.

“I knew it! You had your arm around her and everything! Sorry about that hunk, Y/N. He’s goofy as hell.”

You chuckled at Connie’s comment, shuddering when you felt a cold stare from across the room. Turning your gaze, you met eyes with green ones. Eren was mad. It was written all over him. But, what about? He didn’t have a claim over you. You were his favorite customer, who cares about some little game of confessions?

Reiner cleared his throat, wiping the sweat off his face to clear his nerves so he could get the attention off of his embarrassment.

“Jean, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to give Mikasa a lap dance.”

“If you want to keep your fingers, you’ll chose a different dare.”

Everyone chuckled at Mikasa’s threat, but someone didn’t.

Your gaze shifted back to Eren. His eyes never left you. He was staring right at you as he took another drag from his joint. The cherry red. Light flickered as it threatened to go out.

You tried and failed to focus on the game, your attention fully on Eren now. The soft smile that tugged at his lips mirrored your own as the chatter faded.

“Eren, truth or dare.”

You both turned your heads to Connie who sat rocking with anticipation.

“Dare. I’m not a pussy.”

“Connie’s dares are always the craziest.” You nodded as Sasha whispered this to you. You felt a spark of excitement in you as well.

“I dare you….” Connie looked around the room, eyes wandering as they slowly met yours, a smirk forming on his lips as he did.

“I dare you to do 7 minutes in heaven with Y/N.”

“Fine.”

Eren didn’t even give you a moment to protest. You’re not even sure you fully registered the situation before he caught your wrist in his hand and pulled you up, half dragging you to the closet down the hall. Before you know it, you’re falling into winter jackets, blankets and a broom inside the closet as Eren closes the door behind you both. The sound of a click was heard from outside as someone locked the door, walking away to give you both privacy.

“Well….this is nice.”

Eren sighed as he leaned against the wall across from you. His eyes bore into you once again, eyebrows furrowed as he looked you up and down.

“Nice outfit. Your mom dress you?”

“No. Yours did.”

He chuckled slightly as he shook his head.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

You furrowed your brows at him this time, folding your arms across your chest as you sized him up.

“If I’m so insufferable, why’d you invite me to YOUR party and agree to do this stupid dare with me?”

He but the inside of his cheek, raising a hand to card his fingers through his hair as he took a step closer to you.

“Because as insufferable and annoying as you are, I enjoy having you around. And I guess you’re alright.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fog in your brain or the closeness between you both, but you started to drift closer to him. The both of you taking small steps forward to close the gap between you two.

“I’m alright?”

“Yeah. And I’m this light, you’re kinda cute.”

“…..it’s almost pitch black darkness in here….”

“I said what I said.”

You groaned as you twisted away from him.

“You know, you can almost be so sweet sometimes. Then you’re just a big jerk—”

Your sentence was cut off as his lips met yours, a heated kiss burning on your lips.

Eren hummed as he slowly slid a hand up your arm, brushing your hair behind your ear as it cupped the back of your head. The other arm wrapped around your waist, gripping to your top tightly as he pulled you flush against his chest.

You moaned quietly as he pulled away from the kiss, green eyes meeting yours for a moment before he planted another chaste kiss to your lips, then proceeding to kiss across your jaw and down your neck.

“Shhhh. Not that I care, but we do have some guests outside.” Eren said as he bit your collarbone, placing a light kiss on the exposed skin.

“Fuck it. Let them hear.”

A smirk tugged at his lips as he knelt down on the floor before you.

“Gladly.”

Before the word was even out of his mouth, he was lifting up your skirt, putting his head underneath as his fingers pinched at the plush skin of your thighs.

You yelped, throwing a hand over your mouth as you felt his warm tongue lick a stripe up your underwear, his nimble fingers pulling at them to push the fabric aside. He sucked the material right wear your clit was, making you lift your hips to meet his face. A dark chuckle rattled in his throat, sending vibrations through you.

Once he pushed the fabric out of the way, you gasped as he licked a long stripe once again on your bare cunt.

“Oh fuck, Eren!” You whispered as he groaned, toying his tongue across your clit.

His mouth was relentless as it licked and sucked every part between your legs. You welcomed the bruising grip he had on your thighs and hips as you neared your release.

His mouth popped as he pulled it off of you for a moment, bringing two of his fingers into his mouth to wet them. He prodded at your entrance, admiring the slick shine and puckering hole as you welcomed his fingers.

He smiled at the noises he pulled from you, relishing in the sounds of pleasure that only he could pull from you.

“Good girl.” He whispered as he placed a kiss to your sensitive clit. You jumped slightly at the contact, bringing a hand down to grip his hair, slightly tugging it as you grinder your hips to meet his face and pace.

“So close. I’m so close, ‘Ren.”

He kept his pace as he licked your slit, devouring as much of your juices as he could.

As you came, a hand came up to your mouth as you bit into your palm to silence your moans. Your thighs tightened around his head and hand as they shook, spasming through the shocks of pleasure coursing through your nerves.

“Atta girl. Good fucking girl.” Eren’s praise had you throwing your head back, no longer worried about concealing your moans as they escaped your lips.

Eren pulled his head up, taking in your worn out form as he chuckled, bringing his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean.

“That was….wow.” You managed to say through pants as you tried to catch your breath.

“mm. I know. You taste good.”

You smacked his arm, sitting up as he pulled at your hand.

Just as you went to speak again, the door to the closet was thrown open. Eren moved in front of you, shielding you from prying eyes from the group stood outside the door.

“Well, your seven minutes have been up for a while. You guys done? Or should I reset the timer?” Jean asked in annoyance.

Eren rolled his eyes, pulling you to your feet as he pushed the others back towards the apartment entrance.

“Actually, how about you all go home. I’m going to need a bit more than seven minutes for this and I’m sure you guys don’t want to stick around for it.”

The group groaned as they picked their things up on their way out the door, some poking fun at the two of you and others shouting at you to “get some” already.

Once the door was locked, Eren was pulling you once again, down the hall further than you’ve ever been in his apartment. You came to his bedroom, illuminated by a lamp with blue lights.

You didn’t have much time to look around before he had you sprawled out on cotton sheets.

His face hovered above yours, noses brushing each other’s.

“You’re okay with this?”

“Please shut up and keep going, ‘Ren.”

Before you knew it, clothes were being thrown across the room and in the floor. Eren was licking and biting every surface of skin revealed as stripped you.

Once he stripped his underwear, his cock sprang free, leaking tip almost a cherry red as it bounced in anticipation.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

The head of his cock pushed at your entrance, stretching your hole as he moaned at the warmth.

Once he had slid all the way in, you felt your walls flutter, pulling a deep groan from Eren’s throat. He rested his head on your chest, delivering kisses and small bites to your breasts as he pinched at your hips again.

His hand ghosted over your thigh, bending your leg as he wrapped his arm around your thigh and calf to press it up for better access.

You bucked your hips, begging for him to start moving. He sat out with a slow pace, slowly dragging the length of his thick cock out and in, drawing moans from you as your nails dug into his shoulders.

“Fuck, why didn’t we do this sooner.”

You chuckled as his hips became frantic, thrusting into you at a bruising pace.

“I’m insufferable, remember?” It was his turn to chuckle as he planted a kiss on your lips, hips bucking into yours as he moaned into your mouth.

Both of your highs had worn off, cloudy minds now clear as you reveled in the pleasure that coursed through your bodies.

Ain’t no way y’all are forgetting this moment.

Your highs approached quickly. Your body began to burn with need as you wrapped your legs around Eren’s hips, clinging on to his body as he kept his pace. He buried his face into your neck, planting sloppy kisses and silencing his delicious sounds.

Your walls tightened around him as you came, freezing his thrusts. He groaned at the increase in pressure on his dick, his own body shuttering as he pulled out, painting the outside of your pussy and the inside of your thighs with his load.

He crashed on top of you, head buried in your chest as you both melted into each other. Heavy breathing filled the room, replacing the sound of skin to skin slapping.

Once you had both calmed down, your hand came up to brush at his hair. You pulled it out of his face and drug your nails through it, pulling a soft mewl from him as his eyes fluttered open to meet yours.

“That feels good. Like a drug. You’re like my own personal drug.”

You smiled at his sleepy words, heart fluttering at his gentle tone and how soft he looked. You had never seen him look so innocent.

“Let’s keep this cherried then. I kind of like this.”

#eren yeager smut #eren x fem!reader #eren x y/n #eren yeager imagines #eren smut #eren jeager #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager smut #attack on titan eren #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #aot imagines #aot x reader #aot smut

[madwomansapologist]

fan behavior | Edward Nigma

Masterlist | Taglist | Library | More Edward Nigma | AO3

synopsis: When the Riddler send you a letter, you thought that the day of your death was near. How could you be so wrong about someone?

warnings: Arkham. he is kinda of obssessed. its fluff. convos about murder, death and violence. i swear its fluff. you will understand this later: i love poems and you can do nothing about it.

People believe that to live in Gotham is to live with fear. You once was like that. Thinking about every possibility. It was like drowning in a shallow lake. All that panic, and for nothing. Every person you did suspect, every siuation you did overthink, every sound that scared you: you were waiting for danger, prepared for it, but it never came.

Everyone shall die, all those news channels make sure that no one could forget that, but you don't know how it will happen. When. You may die because Joker didn't like your face, but you also could die because your heart couldn't take it any longer. Or you could die when you're so old that people won't even say that it was unfair, but that you needed to rest.

You were sick of living with fear. Sick of not living because of fear. Of making yourself smaller, quieter, to fit into spaces that you don't want to fit in. So you changed. You decided to be honest with your soul, and to respect that deal. You decided to live.

So you wrote a book. Not your first, not even close, but the first that wasn't fiction. A non-fiction novel about how a violent and corrupted city could kill the soul of their citizens. You told the stories that mainstream media was affraid to. About students, widowers, orphans, homeless, survivors. The stories about fear, and grief, and trauma, and hope. About dreams and nightmares. About finding your strength and losing it. About deciding life wasn't worth or finding out that it was.

And it was a best-seller. Awarded. It was... Damn. You had a good career, writing mostly romances and a little bit of fantasy, but not that good. Money, interviews, awards. You had authors you idolize saying things like "brutally frank", "a milestone of her maturity as a story teller", "disciple of Truman Capote".

It was your peak. It really was. It was everything you ever dreamed about it. You didn't need a parallel job anymore, you could just write. If it was the end of your story it would be perfect. But you didn't want it to be the end. So you tried to find a new ideia. Something that could comunicate with your soul. Something you really wanted to write.

Coming back home after a meeting with your editor and your agent, the train stopped in between stations and you made home just late a night. Gotham, right? You were scheduled to give another interview. Its a big channel, so they were preparing you for some questions that could be made.

In front of your door step you found something different. Something interesting. Its been long gone the time were writers received letters. Now, its emails. But it happened for you to receive letters at your home or at your company some few times, maybe less then five. But now you weren't facing just a letter. It was a really big emerald box, with a scarlet envelope adressed to you.

You were so naive to though it would be just a gift. You really did think it could be something from the TV show you gonna be interviewed. So, without thinking twice about it, you held the heavy box and entered your home with a bright smile.

You couldn't imagine that, but people would make sure he knew you had smiled.

First things first: you put everything on your table and prepared a hot bath. You needed that bath. That moment of relaxation. Everyone deserves that after dealing with Gotham. Smelling like roses, you wrapped yourself in a towel and went to find something to eat. You could hear your grandma screaming at you for opening the refrigerator wearing just a towel, but you were starving.

Devouring a piece of your favorite cake, you remembered about the box on your table. You took the scarlet envelope. Using a knife, you opened it.

My dearest writer,

When I overflow with words I don't have

When the candle that heat my heart starts to erase

And I ask myself in which mirror did my face get lost

I discover that lost in your words the summer is eternal

You are my North, my South, my East and my West

And because of you my madness is divinest sense

Your smile was so big. It was... so sweet. So considerate. No other channel had done something so lovely for you. This is not just a poem. With just one look you can see that those verses are references to books and poems you loved. They even saw your interviews talking about your inspirations!

The first line was a Faulkner reference. The second: Tolstoi and his wonderful Ana Karenina. Then a little bit of brazillian literature with Cecília Meireles on the third line. A clear reference to Shakespeare on the fourth. The next was a snippet of your favourite poem: Funeral Blues. And the last one, you had to think about before coming to a conclusion, was Emily Dickinson.

Smiling like a teenager, you go after the box. It was so heavy, you keep wondering what is inside it. Carefully, you put the envelope on your table and opened the emerald box. And it was... a vault. A black one, with digits to put a password. It was like in the movies, but the difference is that the keyboard has letters on it.

Looking at the open flap of the box, you noticed a yellow post-it.

First things first. It can't be that difficult, can it?

Laughting to yourself you agreed with a head movement, even tho no one was there to look at you. Of course you didn't know that a camera was recording it on the other side of the street, so that wasn't a lie. Just a silly little mistake.

First things first.

You wrote William Faulkner on the keyboard and hoped it would work. With a little click, the vault opened. And inside of it, you found another vault. Smaller this time. You quickly realized what you need do to. So you keep writing the name of the next writer, getting an even smaller vault, until the very last line of the poem dedicated to you.

When the name of Emily Dickinson was wrote, you didn't knew what to expect. Another click, the vault was now open, and inside it you found... another envelope? This was as emerald as the box. You took the letter inside it.

Arkham Asylum, Intensive Treatment Center, Cell 140D. Tomorrow.

And as easy as it came, your smile faded away. You should've know better. A emerald package. How did you not look at it and immediately notice it was made by the Riddler. "Oh, fuck."

What have you done? Did you say something about him during a interview? No. No, you didn't. What could make you a target? What you did wrong? What will he do with you?

You analyzed every vault. You must had missed something. Shouldn't his riddlers have a punishment for those who don't know the asnwers? But they were just vaults. You took his letters, looking for any subtle threat that you didn't notice before.

Why the first envelope was red? It didn't make sense. His color is green. Everything is green when it comes about him. But reading the letters again... they sound affectionate. Even now knowing that he was the one that made it, it don't seen like a threat.

He called you his dearest writer. The first few verses formed the image of someone who is not in a great moment in live. Someone that is losing hope, who can't recognize himself, who can't even put it into words. And then, this person find peace. Someone whos summer is eternal. His personal compass. Someone who made his madness seen divinest.

If he wanted to threatened you, shouldn't he write about bad things? Or even just put a bomb inside one of the vaults. And why he want to see you? But deep inside you knew that he was the only one that could asnwer those questions. The only question you should be worrying about was: will you go?

And could just stay at home. You could have purchased a one-way ticked to Metropolis. You could have run to Commissioner Gordon and beged him to call Batman. You could have done a lot of things.

But fear and curiosity would eat you whole.

You never been in Arkham before. You saw it on television, but this was way different than you could've imagined. Outside, it seen like a hauting mansion. If a ghost came from it, you wouldn't have blink an eye. But inside it... it was even worse.

Not hanted: it was inhuman. Lifeless. No one could live in a place so dark, and visceral, and threatning. You heard laughs when the guards took you to the maximum security area. You don't think someone could experience something worth a laugh on a place like this.

"Don't touch him." One of the guards told you before opening the last door. "Don't give him anything. You can get out of there anytime you want. Scream if you need help."

Glaring at the last thing between you and he, you breath in and nodded. When you entered the room, you took a few second to get used to the light. It was a white room, with a tiny white bed, white sheets and white chairs. You would go crazy with you had to stay a day there.

And chained to his bed, Riddler admired every move you made. Almost embarrased by his powerful presence, you made your way to the white chair. You couldn't do this while standing. It was weird to see him without a mask. It felt wrong. But you couldn't help but to analyze every single feature of his face. Riddler look like a normal guy. Like someone you could see at the bus stop.

"Here you are." His voice alone gave you goosebumps. "I started to think you wouldn't come over."

The sunset was a few hours ago. You recorded the interview, but all the time you were thinking about what would happen when you were in front of him. "You invited me."

"Invited?" Riddler smiled. He rubbed his tights, it was like he would start laughing just like the crazy guy you heard on the corridor. "Yes, I did. My manners: welcome to my temporary house."

"Temporary?" The smartest thing you could do was to act nice. Maybe he would put you on his good side and decided not to do anything with you. His others victims didn't have a chance to talk to him before they were murdered. But if he wants to kill, he will. Nothing you could do would change that. This probably is just a game to him. So he better be prepared because you ain't going to be scared. Never again. "You killed the major. This is your forever-home."

"That was mean," his smile didn't fade away, it just got bigger. Even his voice changed. It was almost a purr. He liked the way you talked to him? It appears like he did. "Are you scared of me? Thats why you think that I should be there until the day I die?"

"I am not scared of you. I am angry." You crossed your arms. "Why am I here? And don't say that I am here because I was invited. Why you want me here?"

Riddler was in silence for a few minutes. Not smiling anymore, he didn't even look at you. "30 seconds."

"What?"

"Thats what took you to solve my riddle." He told you. "You were smiling the whole time. Glowing. You were glowing the whole time. I could see in your eyes: the moment you read the poem you knew what it really means. Did you have fun?"

"I... did." What was going on? Why was he acting sad? "You saw me?"

"You getting home, so stressed and tired, and your smile when you found my gift. You hold it so gently. You solving it so easily, drops of water running down your body... It was a divine vision. Are you a god, by the way?"

You could felt your cheeks burning. You were only using a towel and he was seeing you. No. Not him. He is there, right in front of you, so it must have beeing one of his fans. They recorded you to show to him?

"Are you really angry with me?" He pout. "You had fun, didn't you?"

"You threatened me." Now you were uncertain of that. "You demanded me to see you today. You were spying on me."

"Threatened you? I could never do that!" He really sounded offended. "It was a gift. I spend so much time making something you would love. I watched all your interviews. Read all your favourite books. I even know your favourite color is scarlet. The color of passion. It was gift. And a invitation. And I wasn't spying on you. I was just seeing your reaction."

Now you couldn't put any words together. What does that... What does that even mean? "You won't kill me?"

"No!" Riddler punch his bed. "Oh... the things they say about writers is true. They won't understand you love them even after a love letter."

"What?" You gasped. "Love letter?"

"My dearest writer. When I overflow with words I don't have. When the candle that heat my heart starts to erase. And I ask myself in which mirror did my face get lost. I discover that lost in your words the summer is eternal. You are my North, my South, my East and my West. And because of you my madness is divinest sense."

So... you were right about it. There were nothing threatening about the letter. It all sounded so romantic when he chanted. So pure. "You... love me?"

"Most ardently."

"Jane Austen." You recognized without missing a bet. "Its another riddle?"

"No." Suddenly, he was standing. He wasn't chained anymore, they all fall to the floor. Riddler smiled. "It is a confession."

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #dc comics x y/n #dc comics x you #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine #the batman x you #the batman x y/n #the batman x reader #the batman imagine #riddler x y/n #riddler x you #riddler x reader #riddler imagine #edward nashton #edward nashton imagine #edward nashton x you #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x y/n #edward nigma #edward nigma imagine #edward nigma x reader #edward nigma x you #edward nigma x y/n

[nikethestatue]

So I was curious and looked at the numbers. In the NYT best sellers list, HOFAS is already down to #5 not even a month after release, meanwhile Fourth Wing (released over a year ago) and Iron Flame (released months ago) are above it at #2 and #3. Meanwhile in Amazon, every single ACOTAR book (plus the box set) are in the top 50, while the first CC book to appear on the list is HOFAS at #64. I'm sure for another author these would be great figures, but for sjm it's starting to smell like a flop. Is it any wonder that BB is non-stop promoting the ACOTAR saga on Twitter and Tik-Tok and Sarah is pretending her newest release doesn't exist?

Yeah, i've seen this too.

All i hope is that it will teach them a lesson (doubtful), and start working on promoting ACOTAR 5.

That's really what they should've been doing since before they published HOFAS. Really played up the crossover and let people understand how both series play off each other. Really connect both. But it's not here, nor there.

Maybe BB just dont care all that much, because they'll always be rolling in Harry Potter money and SJM residuals.

[pendarling]

Chores

It was a rude awakening, but at least it smelt lovely. The smell of bleach reminded Whumpee of the pool they used to attend for summers before their capture.

Whumpee lifted their dizzying head, pounds of invisible heavy weight kept them lying face-down for who knew how long.

A light red trail trickled through their lips into a pool of water and mixed chemicals on the cold kitchen tiles. They could barely make out their face in the reflection of the shiny floors. Not like they expected to recognize it anymore.

That's right. They were supposed to be cleaning for Whumper before they got home.

Whumpee tracked their hands and noticed the unfamiliar cleaning utensils waiting patiently to be used. A rag tightly held in one hand and a spray bottle in the other.

They stood slowly, hands gripping the counters on unsteady legs and turned the sink on. As Whumpee wiped the blood from their lips, they noticed a stinging sensation as a bruise began to form. Did they fall on their face?

It didn't matter. They needed to get all this done, or punishment would await them. Whumpee desperately got onto their hands and knees again; it didn't concern them how much time had passed since they fainted. All they knew was that the kitchen and halls had to be spotless. Their knees already ached from the feeling of hard floors rubbing against their boney features but left it neglected; they hoped the surface would go numb over time.

1, 2, 3, 4... 64, 65,... 107...108. Counting the number of tiles and wooden planks would distract them from the pain etched along their tightened palms.

Whumpee looked down at their hands and removed the gloves. They were bright red. That wasn't normal. A light touch to them delivered Whumpee a promised rash if disturbed further.

The gloves must've had a hole in them or absorbed the chemicals while they remained unconscious on the floor for who knew how long. It was a burning scar aligning the tips of their fingers to the edge of their wrists.

Whumpee sighed heavily at the wet floor; they were only a quarter finished. They could push through if they tried.

In the distance, Whumpee heard the door open to a pair of heavy footsteps. It was Whumper. They didn't complete their daily tasks yet. They still had laundry left and- and-

Whumper's face spelt out dissatisfied with a single look around the room. They scrunched up their nose and met Whumpee's shaking figure still knelt on the floor. "Whumpee, slacking off on a job?" Whumpee bit their tongue and had to restrain themselves from bursting out in panicked tears. Whumper walked inside, not bothering to remove their shoes, a twisted expression returned upon noticing their distress, and Whumpee felt the temperature drop as their face paled.

"Uh-- uhm..."

Whumper frowned slightly and glazed over them. "Did you do something to your face?"

Instinctively, Whumpee touched their lips and held their breath. "I'm sorry..."

"I know..." They tilted their head, "What should I do with you?"

Whumpee frantically shook their head, they promised they would punish them if they didn't finish their work. "No, no, no, I can keep going-- I wasn't slacking!"

Whumper remained in a thoughtful state, musing over their frightened Whumpee with delight.

The door opened softly again, and Whumpee was startled to see another person standing by restlessly. “C’mon, Whumper, let them off.” They dusted their fine suit and Whumper turned around.

“I thought I told you to wait outside.”

The other shrugged, and Whumpee had to take a moment to absorb the new situation. They’d never come into contact with anyone besides Whumper for as long as they’ve been here with them.

They walked past Whumper and stared at the still cloudy floor now slowly dried with chemicals. “You poor thing. Has the big bad wolf been mean?”

Whumper sighed, “Oh, please. Save the theatrics.”

“My name’s Seller.” They patted Whumper’s matted hair, “You’ve been such a good Whumpee. I can’t wait to get you cleaned up. You’ll be the best in the next auction.”

‘Auction?!’ Whumpee flinched away from the hand of the new stranger and looked up at Whumper.

They stared down partially, amused at their face. “You’ll be good then?” They kneeled down and smiled coldly. Whumpee’s head nodded quickly. “Perfect. Because I’ll need you to be when you get ready tonight.”

~~~

MASTERLIST

#writing prompt #whump prompts #whump stuff #whump writing #whump dialogue #whump community #whump tropes #whump prompt #Whump ideas #Whump #Whumpee #Whumper

[a-spoonful-o-generosity]

Original listing "ROAD LEGENDS 1:18 BLACK/WHITE 1957 CHEVROLET BEL AIR POLICE CAR IN VGC-NO BOX"

Obviously this looks nothing like a 57 Chevy Belair. Seller got confused because there is a 57 Chevy in this police chief motif, which I also have, missing side mirrors.

But that's another story.

Featured in Post: This is my 1958 Cadillac Eldorado Seville Police Chief by Road Legends.

If you said this car looks like it was covered in crap, it wouldn't be an entirely inaccurate assessment. This car STANK like cow shit! When I opened the shipping box it hit me. I assume it was stored in a barn with livestock. IT SMELLED BAAAD! I had to throw out the box and all the packing material immediately. I worried it might actually be a bio hazard.

I do not want to even know what that brown substance was incrusted on the hood near the driver side windshield. I sprayed on some grease fighting dish detergent on these stains and left it an hour.

It took another hour of paper towels, detergent, water and rubbing alcohol to get it clean.

Left- Ebay listing >:2

Right- Clean ;2

Think they could have gotten more than $40USD $35USD (my best offer) if they cleaned it up and accurately titled it by make and model.

#my cars #restoration

[spookyceph]

Salt, Sugar, Heat Ch. 3: Clock Out

Read on Ao3

Oh, hey, Bakery AU. We thought you were dead.

Summary: Tenko has a great night and an awful morning.

Content Advisory: Food/eating mentions, anxious social situations, abusive parent/family patterns, despair spiral

Peeking through the gap between the production room doors, Tenko watched Touya grab an empty rack and disappear into the walk-in fridge.

“He’s getting the stuff you’re going to bake ready,” Toga said over his shoulder, making him jump. “There’s a certain number of each type of bagel you guys need, though don’t ask me what they are.”

Gaze straying back to the walk-in door, Tenko bit his lip. He hadn’t said a single word to Touya yet but could already sense the baker detested him. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck working with someone who thought he was worthless—he got enough of that at home. But he also needed this job. Wanted it kind of, actually. Slipping his hands into his hoodie’s pockets, Tenko pushed past the doors and headed for the walk-in.

The cold punched the breath from his chest the moment he stepped inside. Touya, on the other hand, moved like he didn’t even notice. As Tenko shivered, he watched pale curlicues of steam spiral up from the baker’s scarred arms.

“You looking for something or what?”

Tenko shrugged off Touya’s snide tone and pretended he wasn’t shivering like a small dog. “I want to learn how to do what you’re doing.”

Looking over his shoulder, the baker pinned him with his stare. “What for?”

“Uh, because I’m…because I work here now? I mean, I have, I need to, um…” Crap, those eyes were burning a pair of holes all the way down to his soul. “It’s my job and I want to do good? Also, you know, have some money?”

Touya continued his basilisk glare for another few seconds. Then, with a huff, he jerked his head. “Fine. Get over here then.”

Squeezing past the empty rack in the way, Tenko joined him on the other side. The baker wasted no time in throwing back one of the covers on the full racks and pointing.

“Berry bagels. Grab a board and transfer it.”

While he did as he was told, Tenko memorized the specks of purple and red in the dough.

“Red bean bagel. Two boards.”

The color made that one pretty self-explanatory. But the next, the rye, was strange, full of little seeds that smelled like licorice.

“Four of the green onion,” Touya said, shoving more boards at him. “It’s one of our best sellers.”

Not surprising—they smelled amazing. Same with the cinnamon raisin and tomato basil.

Once the flavors were sorted, the baker had him jump straight into gathering boards of plain dough. In all, they had about two and a half racks ready to go. Tenko barely had time to notice he was no longer cold before Touya shoved past him and out of the walk-in cooler.

“Come on, mophead,” he called over his shoulder. “Try to keep up.”

Tenko frowned. Better than some of the things he’d been called back in school, but still not his favorite. Then again, what could be expected from someone who’d given himself a nickname like Dabi? Dutifully, he trotted back out to the main room.

He found Touya busy at the big stainless kettle beside the oven. Tenko stopped in his tracks as a huge plume of flame, the same blue as the baker’s eyes, streamed out from his scarred hands to splash across the metal. The heat sucked the oxygen from the space, and Tenko stumbled back with a gasp. More open uses of a quirk. One every bit as dangerous as his too. Who were these people?

Not even looking his way, Touya snapped still sparking fingers. “Go get that rack of flavors, mophead. Oven and kettle should be ready.”

Instead of pointing out they should’ve just brought it with them, Tenko bit the insides of his cheeks and did as he was told. It was fine. Not like it was a long walk or anything. Anyway, wasn’t doing menial chores part of being the new guy? Earning his dues?

Attention never straying from the oven and the long sink in front of it, Touya pointed to the left end. “That’s your side. Baker over there is responsible for stopping and starting platforms, seeding the boards, and washing them off between sets. You don’t have to memorize everything in one day, but pay attention to my directions. And you better not slow me down. Got it?”

Fear gnawed holes through his stomach like a worm munching through an apple. “Got it.”

Then…then Tenko didn’t have a chance to be anxious. Touya began rattling off orders in a practiced monotone that revealed how often he’d repeated them. All while stirring bagels in the boiling kettle before fishing them out with the metal basket on a long handle. The steaming dough burned Tenko’s fingertips while he did his best to sort them on the long, narrow bagel boards. By some miracle he managed not to disintegrate any. The boards either while picking up two at a time to slide onto the first platform.

As bad as arranging bagels fresh from the kettle could be, reaching into the oven and flipping the boards over by hand was worse.

But Tenko grit his teeth and did his best to copy everything Touya did. To follow commands. If he missed shoveling a few finished bagels into the waiting baskets while wielding the giant peel, or fumbled with the boards, the lead baker said nothing. He relentlessly moved on to the next task, not caring whether Tenko had to rush to catch up.

Then…then it was over. They transferred the last round of baked bagels into the baskets. Touya leaned his peel against the wall, letting out a long breath but otherwise no more disheveled than when they’d started. Tenko took stock of himself. Aches in muscles he hadn’t even known existed. Exposed fingertips red and stinging. Hoodie soaked with sweat and spray from washing down the boards with the hose. Coated in sesame and poppy seed shrapnel. Wheezing like a dying horse.

“So. Ready to quit and find an easier job?”

He resisted the urge to apologize and promise to do better next time when he noticed Touya scrutinizing him. His voice didn’t have the energy to quiver as he replied, “I think I’ll stick around actually, thanks.”

“Wanna know what I think?”

Tenko met that bright blue stare until one corner of the baker’s mouth lifted a fraction.

“Well. I guess you’re not the worst I’ve ever had. Go take a break, mophead. Try a bagel. They’re best when they just came from the oven.”

Hands in pockets, Touya headed out the back door. Toga beamed at Tenko from around the corner and awarded him a double thumbs-up.

He drifted through a dreamy fog for the remainder of the shift. Helped stock bagels in the cases at the front of the store. Cleaned up the carnage of crumbs and seeds scattered around the oven and prep areas. Toga skipped up to him bearing a large paper bag as he tossed his filthy apron into a hamper inside the supply closet.

“Tenko-kun! Here, here! I packed a few goodies for you.”

His euphoric bubble burst. “I don’t have any money yet.”

“Silly! Kurogiri doesn’t mind if we take some extras home.”

Caught between the unease of angering his new boss and offending his new coworker, Tenko accepted the bag. If it turned out to be a problem, maybe Kurogiri would take it from his paycheck after he explained instead of firing him.

The bell over the front door jingled as he finished clocking out at the register. Tenko looked up to see the barista from the other day strolling in. Iguchi. His eyebrow ridges shot up when he spotted Tenko.

“Oh, hey! Looks like you survived. Congrats. How’d you like it—aside from having to work with Dabi, I mean.”

“It was…physical. And fast. I’ll get used to it, though.” He had to, or else.

“Cool. Don’t let that stuck-up rich boy intimidate you either. He’s all talk.”

Touya…rich? With those thrift store rags he wore? “Uh, sure. I’ll do my best.”

Clutching his bag of goodies, Tenko scooched around the counter and was headed for the door when Iguchi blurted, “Nice hoodie.”

He skidded to a stop. “Huh?”

The barista returned a stare just as wide as his, scales across his face looking like they’d turned a much lighter green. Almost yellow. “Er, I was just, I saw the logo on your hoodie. That’s all.”

Tenko glanced down at the name of an MMORPG he’d logged probably thousands of hours on during high school. “Do you play?”

“Who, me? Sometimes. I mean, like, once in awhile.” Iguchi waved his hand and looked away, the tips of some scales verging on reddish-orange. “Anyway, don’t let me keep you from going home and getting some rest. See you tomorrow.”

Halfway through the bus ride home, Tenko wondered if he should’ve asked to exchange usernames.

-

The sight of his father seated at the head of the table for breakfast snuffed out the last embers of warmth in Tenko’s heart. He grit his teeth and kept walking as softly, as silently as possible, eyes on the hall and the refuge of his room. The crinkle of a newspaper being folded down let him know he’d failed his stealth check. As usual.

“Don’t tell me you showed up to your first day wearing that.”

He hated the way all the muscles across his shoulders and back knotted up. Like it wasn’t enough his father controlled his life, but his body had to obey to top everything off. “Good morning to you too, Dad.”

“Don’t take that tone with me.”

“Ko,” his mom cut in. “He just came home. Let him sit down at least.”

Her comment didn’t earn so much as a glance. “You can’t just show up looking put together for an interview, then go back to being a slob once you’re hired. You need to look presentable every single day.”

Don’t yell. He’d only use it as an excuse to act even more high and mighty. Tenko crumpled the top of the bag with eight fingers. “My boss told me to dress comfortable because I’d be moving around a lot and I might get dirty. So that’s what I did.”

His father’s eyes fell to the object in his deathgrip. Widened. “Where are your gloves?”

Tenko’s spine turned into a column of ice. “I…my pocket. On the bus, I took them off. They were wet and—”

“Are you trying to get locked up in a cell? Do you have any idea what that would do to our family’s reputation? To my position at the company? Not to mention you’d never be anything higher than a janitor with a quirk violation on your record!”

And on it went. Wave after wave of Tenko’s faults, failings, and lack of a future crashed over him. The occasional protest from his mom or grandparents were too weak, too few and far between to save him. He slipped under. Went down, down, down into the cold, crushing darkness. Only once his father had run out of accusations and turned to bicker with his mother about spoiling him did Tenko slip away.

He went not to his room but the water closet. With shaking hands, he opened the paper bag no one had bothered to ask him about. Pulled out one of the bagels he’d helped make. The oven had turned it a beautiful, deep golden brown. Glossy and smooth too, like it had been polished.

Tenko dug all five fingers into it. Savored the way it squished for an instant before crumbling. Drying up and running down his hand in little streams of dust. He did the same with the next, enjoying how the raisins in it burst into puffs of ash. The cherry glazed donut (such pretty eyes, though) made him pause a second. But only for a second.

He wiped everything down and flushed the evidence away. Washed his hands. Went to bed with an empty hole where his stomach and heart used to be.

#shigadabi #todoroki touya #shimura tenko #shigaraki x dabi #bakery au #touten #tenko shimura #touya todoroki

[noodyl-blasstal]

If you're still taking prompts #18 with Taako?

Thank you very much Anon

“No, I think the spite is worth it. Yep” from Prompts for Fun and Profit which can be found by clicking here.  

______________

“Just to clarify, just so chagirl is 100% up to speed with The Plan, you think Kravitz likes romance novels, but won’t admit it to you, so you’re going to become a romance novelist using the pen name ‘T. Gregory’ so you don’t get embarrassed because you don’t want people to know you read or write romance novels.” Lup gave him a pointed look, almost as if she was expecting some kind of revelation.

“Got it in one!” Taako replied. Shooting Lup some finger guns for good measure.

“But, what does that prove? How will you know if he reads it? This makes 0 sense, Ko.” Lup looked baffled, and Taako rolled his eyes, Lup usually kept up better than this.

“He loves writing letters, Lu. He writes to all his favourite authors to ‘show appreciation’ because it’s ‘good to make sure people know how much you enjoy their work’. He’s such a dork.” Taako said. This was obvious, it wasn’t like he knew Kravitz well and he knew this about him. His exasperated sigh with Kravitz’s inherent ridiculousness came out sounding a lot more fond than intended. Lup had already started teasing him about the crush he didn’t have on ‘Kravitz from the Coffee Shop’, so he powered on in the hope she wouldn’t smell weakness. “Anyway, I’ll crack out a best seller and he’ll write to me. I know his handwriting, and then I’ll have him and I can take the letter to the shop, wait until he comes in and tell him I know the truth. Lying to Taako? Absolutely not.” Taako continued. Adding a smug nod once he finished. 

“Once again, Koko, just to clarify. You’re going to write a romance novel…” Lup began.

“... a bestselling romance novel.” Taako corrected.

Lup rolled her eyes and started again. “You’re going to write a bestselling romance novel out of spite, so Kravitz writes you a letter.” 

“So I recognise his handwriting and catch him in a lie. What aren’t you getting Lup?” Taako was getting frustrated now. This plan was impeccable. 

“And when you catch him in a lie you’re going to tell him you wrote an entire romance novel, a genre you’re also pretending you don’t enjoy, so that you could tell him you share an interest?” Lup raised her eyebrows and inclined her head forward. He still had no idea what she was getting at.

“Yeah, he’ll be so embarrassed. It’ll be adorable… I, I mean, satisfying. It’ll be satisfying to catch him out. That.” Okay, so Kravitz did look adorable when he got flustered, but Taako had eyes, it was okay to just notice things. Sometimes very handsome men who came into your shop every day and always made time to talk with you without making you feel any pressure to do so, looked a bit adorable. That was fine.

“Okay, so, Spite Book, that’s an option… but I just Googled it and romance novels are at least 50,000 words, and I distinctly remember you saying you were never writing that many words again once you finished your PhD…” Lup said. Taako grimaced, he had said that, but this was different. It wasn’t as bad if you didn’t have to research it, he could just write whatever he wanted. “But, and hear me out… I do have another suggestion about a way you could find out if you share common interests.” Lup piqued his interest with that. 50,000 words was a lot of words…

“Go on.” Taako said.

“Ask him out on an actual date, Goofus!” Lup lobbed a pillow at Taako’s head. “You’re absolutely insufferable.”

Taako ducked - he’d spent his entire life with Lup, he knew how to avoid projectiles. “Nah, I’m good with the Spite Book thanks, yeah. I’m not trying to date him!” 

Lup rolled her eyes. “Sure, bro bro, sure.” 

________________________________

Javitz Storm’s cape billowed dramatically behind him as he rode across the moors, Cemita Torta was waiting for him, and he knew now that encircled by Cemita’s arms was the only place he wanted to be. Javitz had spent years longing for him, but had never imagined that it was anything more than a dream. But now, now he knew that Arved was no good for him, Cemita deserved love and care, he deserved happiness, and Kravitz Javitz could give it to him.

Taako swore as he deleted the error and corrected it. This kept happening. It didn’t mean anything that the names were similar, it was just fitting for a big strong handsome dude who was coming to sweep the hero off his feet. Everyone borrowed elements of people they knew to write. It wasn’t any reflection on Kravitz. 

Grabbing his mug of coffee he took another slug. It turned out writing this hadn’t been quite as terrible as his thesis on chemical engineering, but it had been more work than he’d planned. Luckily he was used to having a fairly rigid writing schedule. 

The benefit of working in a coffee shop was the connections - Lucretia had said she only specialised in biography, but could put him in touch with another agent. The guy, Davenport, had been nice. He’d been enthusiastic about the story, said it would fit in well with the current boom in period romance. He asked Taako for three chapters and a formal plot summary. A few meetings later and Taako had been told to go ahead and write the thing. Davenport hadn’t minded the pen name request - in fact, he said that lots of his authors used them.

____________________________________

Davenport found him a publisher quickly. For all his bravado, Taako hadn’t necessarily expected that. He could do absolutely anything he wanted, natch, but being an author was a hard game to get into. Of course he’d be baller at writing though, it made sense.

Publication day passed without fanfare. Taako had decided there was absolutely no way that Lup wouldn’t read into the whole innocent thing with the names, so he just didn’t mention it. She’d asked a few times about the Spite Book idea, and his non-committal replies had left her thinking that he’d abandoned the plan. He didn’t lie or anything, she just drew some conclusions. Served her right for underestimating his dedication to pulling one over on Kravitz.

Taako had continued to act completely normally in the coffee shop when Kravitz came in. He was wary of doing anything which would give the game away. This wouldn’t work if Kravitz figured him out so he didn’t mention any writing or planning or meetings. Not that they talked that much or anything, not that Kravitz took an interest in his life.

Sales were slow at first. He supposed that hoping for an immediate bestseller as an unknown author was a bit of a stretch. Especially because he point blank refused to do any social media. Taako was a unique brand and it was hard to keep that candle dimmed, he didn’t want to risk giving the game away. He’d also hoped the mystery might do him some favours.

In the end it was social media that came through for him though. The publishers had sent out press packs to various reviewers. Only one produced any content, but The Book Reaper’s blog about ‘Finally In Your Arms’ was very enthusiastic about T. Gregory. Apparently the characters were so tangible you could almost believe they were real people who should definitely be dating. Taako was smug about that, The Book Reaper had directed him to some of his favourite books in the past.

He didn’t realise how much things had snowballed from there until Lup sent him a selfie of her with the book.

[16:12] Lupita Taako??????????? [16:12] ??????????????????????????????????? [16:12] ???????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [16:13] Is this Spite Book?????????????????????????????????????????????????? [16:14] DID YOU WRITE AN ENTIRE BOOK AND NOT TELL YOUR ONLY SISTER ABOUT IT??????????????????? [16:14] I’m getting 17. Everyone’s having a copy for Candlenights. [16:17] JAVITZ????? Taako, you are ridiculous. This is ridiculous. [16:17] Taako, please, I beg of you, just ask this man out.

[16:22] Taako I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be weird about it.

Okay, so guilting her may not have been the most ethical choice, but hopefully it meant he didn’t have to talk about it any more…

[16:23] Lupita YOU WROTE AN ENTIRE ROMANCE NOVEL INSTEAD OF ASKING A BOY OUT AND CALLED THE LOVE INTEREST HIS NAME WITH ONE LETTER DIFFERENT. I’M NOT THE WEIRD ONE HERE TAAKO. [16:24] Don’t think I didn’t notice Cemita Torta too. Thought that one was clever, did you? [16:27] You can’t avoid me forever Bro Bro. [16:28] Barold’s going to lose his shit when I tell him. [16:28] Javitz?! Fucking Javitz. I love you so much, Ko. [16:31] Okay, I’ve calmed down. I’m sorry, it was just a shock.  [16:32] I’m really proud of you, Ko. It takes a lot to get published. It’s really good. 

[16:35] Taako Taako can’t come to the phone right now.

_____________________________

Jenkins had left the letter by his cubby with a reminder that employees shouldn’t get personal post sent to work. It had arrived with the usual cafe delivery, but Taako had no idea who would be writing to him here. Especially not in high quality black envelopes with wax seals and silvery ink. He looked at the raven, embossed into the bright red wax, and carefully tore into the envelope around it. It would be rude to break something so beautiful - maybe he could cut the seal out to add to his trinkets dish.

Inside was a letter, tied together with a gods honest silver ribbon. This was the fanciest thing he’d received in his life. Carefully unwrapping the ribbon, he opened the letter, the paper was thicker than some mattresses he’d had in college. 

Dear Taako,

I just wanted to write and let you know how much I enjoyed the book Finally In Your Arms. I was especially intrigued by the relationship between Javitz and Cemita - it was difficult to watch how long they both pined before Javitz realised that he just needed to act and Cemita could be his. I hope to see more of your work and hope they end up happily together.

Thank you for sharing the story with me.

Yours always (if you’ll have me),

KrJavitz.

Taako stared at it, aghast. He kept trying to formulate thoughts and failing miserably. Eventually, he shoved it in his tote and grabbed his apron. He didn’t need Jenkins getting on at him for time wasting as well as gross misuse of the company post.

Taako tried and failed not to think about the letter as he baked. He snuck back to his cubby a few times while dough was rising and cookies were baking. There was no mistaking it, even without the name at the end. It was goth shit, it was a letter to an author, therefore it was definitely Kravitz. Was it possible that Kravitz wanted to date him? But how did he know it was him? Fuck. This was a mess. It was supposed to be Taako in control. He couldn’t believe this bastard had turned the tables on him. Taako didn’t get surprised, Taako was never on the back foot, Taako thought 20 steps ahead. Taako was fucked…

__________________

Kravitz was dressed even fancier than usual. It wasn’t fair. Taako had been in work since 4am and he was wearing leggings and a slouchy shirt. He looked good natch. Taako always looked good, but this wasn’t what he’d planned to wear to tease Kravitz about reading romance, let alone to possibly discuss dating. Taako hid in the kitchen while Ren served him, but he couldn’t avoid him forever. 

Taako needed to take the power back, Kravitz had basically admitted that he not only read romance, but that he had been lusting after Taako for ages. That was far more embarrassing than anything else anyone who may be involved in the situation had done.

“Afternoon Stud, written to any world famous authors lately?” Taako asked as he bussed a nearby table. He was heartened to see Kravitz choke on his coffee. Who had the upper hand now?

“That depends,” replied Kravitz, trying valiantly to regain his composure. “Written any world famous books lately?” He grinned at Taako and looked smug.

Taako pulled the free chair out with his foot and plonked himself down opposite Kravitz. “I thought you didn’t read romance books.” He said, just a smug.

Kravitz’s brows knitted together in confusion. “You wrote it because you thought I wouldn’t read it?” Then his eyes opened wide in panic. “Oh fuck, have I completely misread this? I, I’m so sorry. I thought… oh fuck.” Kravitz looked like he was about to sprint for the door.

“No, I wrote it because I knew you would.” Taako looked at him expectantly. This was his big moment, his gotcha.

Kravitz just looked baffled. “So you wrote it because I told you I didn’t read romance, but you knew I did?” He asked, slowly.

“Yeah,” Taako replied brightly. “Gotcha!”

“Taako… you, you wrote an entire book and got it published because you had a feeling I read a genre I said I didn’t?” Well, when Kravitz put it like that it sounded a bit ridiculous.

“It’s not weird. I just didn’t know how else to find out.” Taako said. Realising as soon as it left his mouth that saying something wasn’t weird was pretty much a guarantee that it was weird. He’d heard it come out of Lup’s boyfriend enough and that dude had a roadkill collection. Sure, they looked cute in their tiny hats, but it was still objectively weird. Fuck, he was on the same level as Barry.

“You could have asked… Wait, no, you did… okay. Fair. That seems like a reasonable second option.” Kravitz laughed and Taako couldn’t help but stare at him. He was illegally handsome, especially with so much joy on his face. “I was trying to show off, you know? I wanted you to like me and you said you didn’t read romance.” Kravitz said once he stopped laughing. He sounded sickeningly sincere. 

“I said I didn’t read romance because you, well, your whole deal! You said you liked horror. I couldn’t tell the hot goth that most of my reading was porn with a smidge of plot, could I?” Taako probably shouldn’t have admitted the last bit… he could definitely have just said romance books.

Kravitz’s grin turned vaguely predatory and he leant forward to rest his hand on his chin. “You definitely could have…” He paused and sat up slightly again. “So… Javitz… Inspired by anyone you know?”

“Fuck off.” Said Taako, grabbing Kravitz’s napkin, scribbling his number, and shoving it back. “Text me?”

Kravitz grabbed the napkin and his phone. “Definitely.” He paused and looked up, smirking again. “I can’t wait to be encircled in your arms.”

#Who could The Book Reaper be? No one knows it's a complete mystery! #TAZ Balance #TAZ Fic #Taakitz #Taako #Kravitz #Noodyl Writes #Sometimes you just have to write a spite book to work out if someone enjoys a genre or not