#a fandom I have stumbled into in December

[jasonswhitetuftofhair]

“Come at me, Baby”

Characters/Pairings : Jason Todd (Red Hood) x female!reader.

Synopsis : Jason and Reader spar and after training things get steamy filthy.

Content Warnings : SMUT. Slow burn. Poor writing. Lots of plot. Training/Sparring (reader learns combat). Curse words. Pet names. Overstimulation. Multiple orgasms. Protected sex. Size kink (barely noticeable). Oral (fem rec.). Fingering. Dry humping. Use of object as toy (Jason uses a muscle massage gun on you). Vaginal intercourse. Light bondage (Jason ties your hands w/ resistance bands). Reader insert (sorry). Aftercare.

Fandom : DC, Batman.

Word Count : 5202

Author’s Notes : First fic I’ve written. Like ever. Also, this is a repost; I originally posted this for the first time in October 23’ but I deleted it in December 23’ due to insecurity.

This week had been tiring. Multiple meetings, a lab breakout scare, a few late night patrols all on top of studying the material you’d been given had started to add up. All you wanted was to retire for the night, go to your room and take a nice, relaxing, long, hot bath. Gorge yourself with junk food and put your show on, and then sleep like the dead. But no, tonight called for an evening training session with your training instructor.

Jason. Jason Todd. Before you had entered the gym, you weren't sure if you would be up to train tonight. But watching him enter the double doors with his hot-as-hell all black tactical pants, skin tight athletic t-shirt and combat boot ensemble quickly made you reconsider. As if it was hard.

Ever since Bruce had finally gotten Jason to accept his proposal of conducting training sessions with everybody, you’ve been feeling like a sitting duck. You had been trying to hide your feelings from the older vigilante for a while now. A while as in since you first arrived at the manor. Nearly eight months had you been stumbling around whenever he was near, barely making eye contact and feeling like an idiot because of him. And you had been succeeding, too! Barely, but still. He didn't know anything and now with your new arrangement, how could he not pick up on the vibes you were sending out? It was only a matter of time before your feelings were compromised and you were left heartbroken and feeling like a fool, your friendship with him long gone.

It wasn't so bad, though. You had always been good at adapting and Jason wasn't necessarily bad on the eyes. It was kind of fun, too. His little dry humored remarks, shared inside jokes and just…him, made him good company. After all, he was your friend. You haven't known him long, but it still felt like you’ve known him forever. But that was the problem. Your friendship with him was too much of a treasure to have it be risked just because of a little crush. You’d rather be plagued by the overwhelming melancholy of your predicament than not have him at all. If the only way you could allow yourself to indulge in the feel of his hands on your body was when he was training you in combat, then that was something you were okay with settling for.

“Earth to Y/N. Um hellooooo, you there?” Jason’s equally teasing and concerned words pulled you from your trance you hadn't even realized you’d fallen into.

Your embarrassment quickly appeared on your face and didn't go unnoticed by him. “Yes! Sorry, I’m here.” Having been snapped out of your thoughts, you noticed that Jason had you held against him mid-air. You threw a punch at him, but he of course dodged it so you did what you first thought next. You tried to kick him in his side but he quickly grabbed your ankle and gently but strongly twisted it so that your body changed direction. Before you could lose balance and fall he grabbed your other thigh and caught your body against his, holding you to him. You didn't react at all, though, and his initial thought was that he crossed a line he didn't know of and did something to upset you. He called your name and you didn't answer the first time so he paused the lesson and brought you back to him.

He was a little worried, honestly. He knew you to be like this, often catching you staring off into space and likely daydreaming or stuck in deep thought. It was your expression, though. The mild sorrow, a little bit of adoration shining in those pretty eyes he loved so much, too.

“You sure? We can take a break if you need it,” he offers, gently smiling at you, “is everything okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?” he asks worriedly. Gazing into his eyes, your heart almost swells up. He looks so genuine, like it would hurt him if he hurt you and you let yourself pretend it's for other reasons. “Yes, I’m fine, promise. Just have a headache s’all.” It's enough to relax him just the slightest but he doesn't believe you. Your body language is just not convincing enough. He finally puts you down and lets his eyes skim all over you. He tells himself it's to check for signs of discontent or injury, but he knows he can't lie to himself. Youre just too fucking beautiful. He shakes himself out of it before the blood rushes south and gets back to the lesson.

“So. You really need to get out of the habit of kicking. It can't be your first instinct, sweetheart. You're exposing an entire limb to the enemy and you're not skilled enough yet to counter whatever it is they plan on doing. I know it's hard, but you need to really start implementing your upper body strength,” he explains to you, occasionally letting his fingers linger on your skin when showing you what the enemy could potentially do to you. You truly appreciate how gentle and accommodating he is when it comes to teaching you. You’ve seen him train with the others and sometimes his harsh tone is enough to make you jump even when his words are directed to someone else. He’s been so patient with you and the thought of him going out of his way to train your aversion-to-fighting self makes your heart flutter. You nod along with him, letting him know you haven't gone off to La La Land again.

“Alright. Come at me, honey,” he orders while positioning himself in the default defense stance. Legs strong, but ready to move. Arms by his side ready to catch and balance. Core strong and taut, chest puffed. Eyes on you, just as he likes it. He finds it adorable how clueless your little expression is. Eyes wandering all over the place, arms trying to find a good way to support yourself and legs waddling to their correct position. Like a baby deer learning how to walk. He hears your little words of encouragement to yourself and watches your eyes, watching the gears turn in your brain. While his focus is stuck on your pretty face, he doesn't notice your left hand curling behind you while you spin yourself around, pressing your back to his front. He grunts and catches your right hand before it can land around his bicep. You quickly move your feet backward and jump behind him, putting all your strength into kicking his back hamstring, but he’s already several steps ahead of you. He turns around before your foot can land and grabs your ankle, destabilizing your legs and grabbing your wrists, holding them tight in his right hand.

This of course leads his mind to other things, things that would involve this very position. You curl your leg around his stretched leg and twist your body around, landing you on top of him. Your legs straddling his abdomen and palms resting on his waist. He doesn't mind at all, though and senses a pause in your movement. He notices your tired expression, your flushed face and neck, the sweat on your hairline, neck and brow. You jump, as if just now realizing the position you had him in. You move to sit next to him and he moves into a sitting position, no longer back to floor. You flash him a cheeky grin, happy with yourself for winning this time.

“Did I do good?” you ask him excitedly and he chuckles, your pretty little smile having caused his heart to skip a beat. ‘Did I do good?’. That phrase would be on repeat in his brain for a little while, he could tell. The way you seeked his approval caused his groin to stir and he stood up, quick to distract himself.

“You did. I’m proud, that was much better. We’re gonna focus on your upper torso, now, okay?” He guides you to stand and places his hands on either sides of your shoulders, guiding you to stand in front of him. “I'm gonna throw at you, and you're going to block them.” He playfully wiggles his fist in front of you and you grab onto it giggling. Oh how he adores that sound. He sneakily aims and his fist appears next to your collarbone, you move your body out of the way. He does it again, this time it comes next to your left shoulder. You grab his wrist with both hands and block it. He doesn't miss the way you needed both hands to wrap around his wrist. He moves again, fist to the right of your face. Your eyes widen and he shushes you and you relax. You both know he wouldn't make a move to successfully cause you harm.

This goes on and on for what seems like forever. Your stamina has dwindled down a while ago and he can tell how tired you are. He thinks about cutting training early, but for his own selfish reasons he decides against it. He doesn't want your time together to end. Still, you're barely putting in any effort and you're certainly not trying to hide it from your instructor. His eyes haven't left you since the session began and he was very pleased with all the intel he’s received. Your short, panted breaths. The way your cheeks and neck flushed with that pretty shade of pink that suited you so well. Your wide eyes, how they seemed to sparkle under the annoyingly bright lights of the gym. How they seemed to water whenever he stared into them for too long. Your wobbling lip whenever you got a little too into it. How you went out of your way to put both of your hands on him, regardless of if it was beneficial or not. The way you didn't even move out of the way of his punches anymore. You just watched the muscles of his arms flex and wished they were around you instead.

“You gotta put in some more effort for me, princess. I know you can do it,” he tells you, cooing at the way you whine at him, silently wishing he would end training early. He chuckles. “C’mon, block em’, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes and try to muster up whatever strength left in your exhausted body. Your hands meet his and successfully block a hit. He doesn't forget how you rolled your eyes, though. What he wouldn't do to have you bent over his lap for that. He finishes with the punches and leads you to the equipment.

He stands you in front of the power rack looking thing, gripping your waist and holding you up, waiting for you to grab onto the handles on top. “Chin-ups. Fifteen of em’,” he tells you and you groan. He knows you hate chin ups. “Tsk, tsk. C’mon, princess. Don't make it twenty. These help with your shoulder and bicep strength. Use an underhand grip, palms facing you.” You sigh and get into position, starting what he told you to do. You made sure to be as dramatic as possible, though; you were too tired to keep the brat in you at bay. Jason, on the other hand, doesnt try to hide the way he is blatantly staring at your ass, thighs and waist. He burns the image in his mind and moves closer to you, holding onto your waist to make you feel secure.

You huff and sigh out, hoping he’ll give into you. Throughout the entirety of the session, his hands have been on you. His breath has been on your neck. The feel of his body on yours. Him in your proximity. It was frustrating. Having him so close, but far away. Little did you know he felt the same. His hands move to rub encouraging circles into your hips and you whimper out loud, to your embarrassment. He doesn't even try to hide his smirk, though. Once the exercises are done, he holds onto you, purposefully moving his big hands to rest on your ass, bringing you down. You’re done with his teasing and turn around, pressing your palms flat to his chest and keeping him at bay. You signal with your eyes that you’re not in the mood for the teasing and he coos, holding your face between his two hands. “Is there something you want, baby?” you whine and cry out for him trying to hide your face into his chest but he only lifts your chin back up so he can see you. “Come on, sweetheart, if you want something you have to ask for it.” “hmph! I want you to stop teasing me, Jason!” He smiles wickedly and lets you go. “Training is over,” he states simply and you sigh contentedly, walking to the locker room.

Before you can open it, though, Jason’s hand wraps around your wrist and you turn to him. “You didn't actually think I was done with you, did you?” he asks but doesn't wait for an answer. He opens the door to the locker room and guides you into it before locking the door. In an instant you're pressed against the door, cold wood on your back, and Jason’s mouth on yours. It's not much of a fight for dominance, his tongue having beat yours instantly. It feels heavenly. Not just the feel of his tongue in your mouth, tasting yours, but finally all this pent up tension leaving your body. You sigh into the kiss, Jason’s hand comes up behind your neck to grab the hair at the base and you mewl against him.

You were losing oxygen and his kisses traveled from your lips, to your chin, to your jaw, the sweet spot on your neck. His big hands wrapped tightly around your waist and the feel of his open-mouthed kisses on your neck has your jaw slack and breathing uneven. He smiles at the way you look like a puppy with your open mouth and panting, practically drooling.

“This okay, sweetheart?”

You were practically soaking through your panties by now and the tenderness of his words and low pitch of his voice certainly wasn't helping. You nod a yes and throw your head back at the feel of his harsh sucking on your neck and collarbone. He growls and spanks your bottom, “I need words, Y/N,” he commands and you whine out loud yet again. “Yes! Please, need you, Jason,” you tell him and that’s all he needs to hear.

Carrying the two of you, he picks you up and holds you against him. Your legs wrapped against his waist and he sits down on a bench, you still on his lap. His kisses don't stop and the feel is euphoric. His hands haven't stopped roaming your body. The feel of his big hands groping at your soft, supple flesh through the clothing separating you from him combined with just…him, was damn near enough to make you go crazy. You were tugging at his hair and pressing your face against the crook of his neck, desperate to smell his pheromones and your soft lips pressing kisses of your own against his neck had him hard against you already. When you felt his hardness against your tummy you gasped and tugged on his hair a tad bit harder and he moaned against you. Little curses left his mouth and you were seeing stars. Nothing had barely even happened and you were already this close to being admitted into Arkham Asylum.

Suddenly his hands paused their movements and his tone became one of seriousness. He grabbed your chin and forced your face towards his. Your pretty little glossed over eyes shining up into his had his breath hitch and for a split second he forgot what he needed to do. He could see the curiosity on your face, your teeth tugging your lower lip and he had to avert his eyes.

“Fuck, Y/N. I need to tell you something. I-I like you, Y/N. And not just in a friendship way. I understand—” he started but you cut him off, lurching towards him even more and grabbing his head between your hands, kissing him with a force you didn't know you could possess. He could feel you smile into the kiss and he let you have control this time. Not for long, though. He grabbed your hair into his fist and you gasped. “I-I like you, too, Jason. Have for a while now,” you mumbled against him and he grabbed your plump bottom with both hands, bringing your body flush with his. This only fueled the fire, though; his rock hard cock straining against his pants feeling your core against him had him clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, trying to control himself a little bit.

“I like you a lot, Jason. A lot a lot,” you whimpered against his lips and he smiled. You could see the genuinity in his eyes and the softness in his smile. He placed a gentle kiss against your forehead and then one on your nose and finally one on your lips. “I'm glad, sweetheart. Very glad,” and with that he grabbed your hips and shifted your legs a little bit. He forcedly rocked your clothed cunt against his hardness and your eyes closed, head tossed back. It was almost too much, too fucking much. You had been teased all night long and with all this foreplay you weren't sure if you would last. You tried to paw his hands off of your hips and stop your movement, but you just weren't strong enough. His devilish grin staring up at you, his pretty girl, had you whining and grow the ache in your pussy. “Stop, ‘s too much, stop, please, Jay,” you begged against him and all he could do was smile. “Stop? You want me to stop? But I’m not even doing anything, baby,” he teased. He knew he was teasing the damnit out of you. Even as you begged for mercy, there you were, still riding his clothed dick. You couldn't help but follow his lead though, your hips couldn't help but relish in the feeling of his hands tight on them, guiding you back and forth. Even if you wanted to you weren't sure if you could stop. God, it felt so good. Nothing you had ever felt like before. His hands on your hips and his mouth abusing your sensitive skin. The hardness of him grinding directly onto your clit. It was all so amazing.

He could tell you were close. He’s never had you before but he already knew all your tells. Your panting and labored breaths. The way you couldn't keep your eyes open. The stuttering of your hip movement. How you tried to get closer to him, even though you were flush to him. Gasps and whimpers leaving your mouth. Your hands tried to paw his hands away yet again. Think you’d learn the first time. His mouth went right back to sucking marks into your skin and he cooed at you. “C’mon, babygirl. You can do it. I know you need it, sweetheart. Just let go and cum for me,” he softly commanded. Hips following his words, your pace quickened and he ground you down onto him. His own hips jerked up and his cock spanked your core. Within moments the climax unraveled and you let out a screech. The white hot bliss greeted you and the power of your orgasm could be felt in every nerve ending of your body. You shook for a good thirty seconds and your vision went blurry. You slumped against him tiredly and he chuckled. His soothing hands rubbing circles into your back and sweet nothings helped calm you down and your high rode out. You lazily started unbuckling his belt and he grabbed your wrists, stopping you. Oh how you liked the feel of his hands grabbing you like that. “Tsk, tsk, Princess. ‘M not done with you yet.”

In an instant he was untying your shoe laces, kicking them off your feet and forcing your pants down to your ankles. His hands ripped your panties off and you were exposed. The brisk air was biting against your wet cunt and you gasped slightly. He raised you up against the lockers and wrapped your legs around his head, hands planted firmly on your ass holding you midair. The smell of your arousal and the previous orgasm dripping everywhere had him painfully hard. “Tell me if it's too much, baby, and I’ll stop, okay?” You whispered a ‘yes’ and he finally satiated his desire to have your cunt in his mouth. His mouth went straight for your clit and you shrieked at the feeling. His light little sucks on the nub had you rolling your eyes back and jerking your hips. Continuous moans leaving your mouth only encouraging him. He licked a stripe straight up and down the length of your pussy and his own moans left him. You tasted fucking delicious. Like everything he had imagined. All those times he imagined how you’d feel and he was finally fucking seeing for himself. He felt like a kid on goddamn Christmas, his hands tightening his grip on your ass. You were sure there’d be handprints in the morning. His thumb went to rub rough circles on your little bundle of nerves while he thrust his tongue in and out of your weeping hole. You started to cry out for him, hands pushing against his head and fingers gripping his hair attempting to pull him off of your pussy. Absolute the fuck not. He looked to his right and to his luck there was a set of resistance training bands hanging from a hook. He smirked and looked up at your fucked out face and he chuckled to himself. Holding you up with one hand, he reached to his side and grabbed a cable band. You watched his movement and saw what he was doing and your eyes widened. The kinky bitch. “C’mon, princess. Give em to me. Since you don't know how to keep your hands to yourself, I have to take em away from you,” he teased playfully condescending. He tied your hands together behind your back with the workout gear and he hummed satisfied with himself before resuming his meal. He was fucking merciless with his tongue and you soon learned your crush was a borderline sadist. His mouth wrapped around your clit and his sucks were harsh and unforgiving. Like a man starved, he ate you like you were the last source of hope for his soul. His finger started fucking you, too. He started with one but your drenched hole quickly accommodated for more. Soon enough you were on the brink of another orgasm and he forced it from you roughly. “Again, sweetness. You can cum again, cant you? Give me another.”

The orgasm brought tears to your eyes and you wouldn't stop shaking. Your thighs were quaking around his head and your back arched off of the cool metal of the lockers you were propped against. Toes curling, head thrown back, continuous moans and screams leaving your lips. Your second climax of the night arrived and you screamed into the locker room, little sobs leaving your ruined body. He let you ride out your orgasm against his tongue until he was fully content and gently brought you down, placing one last kiss against your lower body. He sucked his fingers that were just shoved inside you, not breaking eye contact with your tired eyes. He placed his forehead against your own and wiped away your tears.

“You okay, baby? Was that too much?” he asked worriedly. He didnt want to fuck up his first time with you and feared he lost control of himself. You smiled tiredly against him and shook your head lightly. “‘M okay, promise. Jus’ need you, Jason.” He smiled and shuffled you towards the mirror and sinks. He took off his shirt and laid it on the edge of one of the sinks he was about to bend you over. You realized it was for your comfort and smiled up at him, feeling your heart swell up. Even when he was about to absolutely obliterate your cunt, he still managed to be a gentleman. He unbuckled his pants and finally his cock sprung up. He sighed, finally feeling relief. He watched you stare at his size through the mirror, seeing your eyes widen and your teeth tug on your lip. He lightly guided you into the position he wanted you in and you sighed contently, feeling comforted by the thought you would finally be fucked by him. Watching him pull a condom out of nowhere and rip it open with his teeth had you on the edge of your seat. He sheathed himself with it and made sure everything was ready. “Ya’ ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked while lining his tip up with your entrance, smearing your wetness all around his head. You gasped and shouted a little “yes” and he chuckled, sinking in. Even with two orgasms loosening your little cunt up for him, he was still a little much to adjust to. Both of your heads tossed back in sync and you closed your eyes, sighing for him. You worked your hips against him, wanting to feel more. He grunted and grabbed you by your hair, bringing your head up to look in the mirror. “Keep your eyes up here, baby.”

Once you were fully adjusted to his size, he slid almost all the way out and then re-entered your warm, wet heat. It felt so good. He set a pace and it was so heavenly. You could cry with how good it felt. You both needed this, needed this release for all the pent up frustrations in your lives. Sounds of flesh smacking against flesh and his grunts and your little sighs filled the room and the smell of sex was heavy in the air. His hands were on either side of your hips and his eyes met yours in the mirror. It was fucking exotic. Seeing your eyes perfectly, watching the pleasure unravel on your face. Pleasure he was giving you. His pace quickened a hair and you gasped. Your hips moved backwards against him, in time with his thrusts. You felt him deeper and the perfect rhythm of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you almost hypnotized you. He smirked a little bit as he watched your fucked out face in the mirror. No thoughts, head empty. It was clear only pleasure was what you felt.

You didn't even notice him reaching above the both of you and retrieving something from the cabinet. Only when you heard the familiar buzzing noise did you wake up from the transe you were in and see what he had in the mirror. A muscle massage gun. For a moment you were a little confused, why was he hurt? Then you felt the big spherical head of the gun against your clit and your eyes rolled to the back of your head for the umpth time that night. He smiled and cooed at you from above. Yeah, he was definitely a sadist. He angled the gun a little bit to the left, wanting to overstimulate your abused little button. His thrusts hadnt ended and it was too fucking much. His pace was faster and harder and deeper now and had you both moaning up a storm. Your hands were finding themselves gripped onto the sink counter and you were struggling to keep your eyes open and in the mirror. He moved the massage gun setting higher and kept it firm against you. Your thighs were shaking and you were glad you were being held against the sink by him. You weren't sure you would be able to keep yourself up if you weren't.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Give me one more, please. I know you can. Cum for me, sweetheart.” You closed your eyes, feeling bliss about to erupt in you again. He quickly corrected you, though. His hand not being used to hold the machine to your clit came up to your throat, squeezing lightly on the sides. Not enough to cause genuine pain or prevent oxygen into your blood, just enough to give you that lightheadedness and in an instant you came on his cock. Your final orgasm was so intense and pleasurable—not surprisingly—and it lasted nearly thirty seconds. He removed the massage gun and returned both hands to your waist. His brutal thrusts as he chased his own orgasm helped you ride it all out. That blissful feeling that lasted longer than your orgasm did. All the stress leaving your body. Finally his sputtering hips stilled as he emptied his hot load into the condom and you whined, half wishing he was emptying himself into your wet little cunt instead. One day.

You both sighed and felt content again. You were sated and had finally gotten what you wanted. His loving palm rubbing circles into your lower belly, soothing you. He peppered light kisses on your skin and slowly slid out of your heat. He turned you around and kissed your forehead. All this loving kissing of his was making you wanna cry, it felt so good. Not just to be fucked right by him, but to have him, too. He was yours, now. And you were finally his. He grabbed your face between his palms and gazed lovingly into your eyes. “You okay, baby? Was that good? I didn't hurt you did I?” You smiled softly and nodded, “Yes, Jay. I'm perfect. You were amazing,” you reassured him with a blush.

He picked you up and sat you on the edge of the counter and got a washcloth from a basket, wetting it under the sink. He wiped the sweat and cum off your body and gave a kiss to each spot after it was clean. He helped dress you and by the time he was carrying you making his way to your room in the manor it was late. He opened your door and locked it behind him, leading you both to your attached bathroom. He undressed you again and turned on the shower. He lightly coaxed you in, seeing as you were so drowsy from all the night’s activities. He undressed himself and got in, lathering your body wash on a loofah and cleaning you. He wanted to make sure his baby was clean and cozy and content. When he was done washing you, he washed himself and enjoyed smelling like you a little too much. He carried you out of the shower and dried you off, clothing you in jammies and then put on some clothes you had stolen from him a while back.

He held you in his arms and you two cuddled each other all night long. You were his now and he couldn't be happier.

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[lovelyyy-luna]

the hand that feeds

pairing: (mizu x fem!reader)

fandom: blue eye samurai

pronouns: she/her

type: smut

warning: dom!mizu and bratty!reader. This is pure filth and I don’t apologize for that. Spanking, choking, object penetration there’s probably more but you get the gist

a/n: juban is the underslip when wearing a kimono. haori is the outer robe of the men’s outfit.

aa/n: tagging @firelillys and @bxllamiizu both of y’all inspired me to write this. also tagging @angelltheninth

word count: 2019

date: december 20, 2023

masterlist

She dragged you away deep into the forest.

She was angry. You’ve seen her mad before but this time she was pissed.

“I told you how many times to stop complaining? And what do you do? You keep fucking complaining.”

She was tugging on your arm, you slightly liked the pain, and you hoped there was going to be a bruise around your wrist when she was done with you.

You finally stopped in a clearing

“So what do you have to say for yourself?” She slightly pushed you away.

You stumbled a bit but caught yourself.

“Hm?”

“I’m. Cold.” You say sternly. All this started because you kept complaining about the temperature.

“You knew this when you tagged along.”

“I didn’t know it’d be this fucking cold.” You mutter to yourself.

Swiftly she drew her blade and cut the belt that held your kimono together. Your juban was what was exposed. Just that thin slip of fabric was what kept you from becoming frostbitten.

She put the blade back into the holster, “How cold are you now?”

“Freezing,” you said above a whisper, holding yourself for some warmth.

“Would you like to be warmed up?” She stepped close to you, you could feel her breath on your face like a slight blanket on your cheeks.

You nod at her question.

She removes the kimono off your shoulders and it falls to the ground. Now just in your juban, she could truly see how cold you were, your nipples were peaked and that sight of you could make her go down on her knees but she wasn’t in a very giving mood at the moment.

Harshly she went between your thighs and her finger ever so lightly went between your slick.

“Hmm, no undergarments? No wonder you’re fucking cold. Or maybe, this was your plan the whole time. To piss me off and get me to fuck you.”

You stand there in the cold of the forest and nod. It was pathetic really but she was enjoying every second of it.

She looked down at you and her piercing blue eyes had a tinge of red in them.

“On your knees, dove.”

‘Dove’, that was her nickname for you, and every time she said it it made you weak in the knees.

You slowly sank to the ground kneeling on your kimono that was the barrier between the snowy ground and your skin.

You looked up at her and she towered over you.

“Now turn around.”

You obeyed every order and shuffled on the ground to have your back facing her.

She then kneeled behind you pressing her chest against your back. That touch alone made you moan and your head fell back into the crook of her neck.

Her hands then travel up your juban and tug at the string exposing you completely. Then her fingers trail up your stomach to your breasts slowly rubbing your nipples between her fingers.

Soft moans fall from your lips.

“Oh is my little dove enjoying this?” She cooed at you.

You nod whimpering at her touch.

“Well, I don’t want you to enjoy it.” Her voice was stern and gritty.

The hand that was touching you quickly went up to your throat gripping tightly and caught you off guard.

She then drew her blade again holding the blade closely to the two of you, your breath was staggered and was fogging up the metal weapon.

With a clean swipe the tree that was in front of you was soon just a stump.

“Bend over, dove.”

You nod and bend over on the freshly chopped stump. The white fabric of your robe rose as you bent over.

You were excited and nervous about what Mizu had planned for you.

Lost in your thoughts were broken from the harsh stinging from her hand landing on your ass.

You yelp at the sensation and shoot a look back at her.

She glared at you, “Eyes forward dove.”

You look back forward and another blow comes down on the same place. Only two smacks in and you already couldn’t handle it.

“Do you know how many times you complained about the cold?”

You shake your head.

“Thirteen times in ten minutes. So that means I’m going to do the same to you and you’re not going to say a word.”

You nod slowly.

Another smack landed on the opposite cheek giving the other side a break but it was short-lived when she smacked you hard again.

You looked behind you wanted to see the damage she caused so far and you knew by the end of this you were going to have welts.

She made you count, on the verge of tears with each blow. It was painful but you wanted this. You knew that with each smack it was full of love.

She was finally done and then felt her lips trailing down your back. The fabric of your robe was so thin that it felt like there was nothing between the two of you. Her hands then caressed your puffed abused cheeks.

Her kiss then went up to your neck and then to your ears, “I still don’t think you’ve learned your lesson.”

You whimper at her words, your hand slowly goes in search of hers. Once you find it you bring her hand up to your lips slowly kissing her fingers putting them into your mouth sucking on them.

She chuckles at your actions, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

You slowly turn to look at her, “I was um…”

“Oh did you think you were going to be fucked by my fingers?” Her chuckle was deep at mocking, “Oh my little dove do you think you even deserve my fingers?”

You look at her confused, then your eyes follow down to her other hand and it lays on the handle of her sword. You gulp and you look back up at her and she is grinning.

You bit your lip at just the thought of her using the handle on you and you instantly got wet.

“Turn back around,” she whispered.

You do as you are told and once shuffling around you bend over the stump, but it was not to her standards. She gripped your hips and pushed you into the stump. Your pelvic bone was on the outer edge of the stump and she pushed you hard into it giving you small cuts against the wood.

You slowly creep your head to look at her, she unsheathed her sword, stuck the blade between her slightly spread legs, and looked down at the handle and a lob of her spit dangled down on the bound leather.

Her hand then rubbed the spit in and he started to inch it towards your core spreading your lips slowly.

The sensation and the thought of what was happening and what was going to happen was reeling in your head.

The handle itself was 10 inches. You haven’t had anything like that in you for a while and were nervous about how you were going to handle it.

With the handle getting enough of your slick she parted your lips and put the tip in.

You hissed at the feeling, it may have been lubed enough but the soft leather with its ridges was a whole new sensation.

She slowly sunk it in you, not wanting to hurt you or make you uncomfortable but enough to make you feel good.

You then feel yourself hitting her fingers which were a makeshift stopper for you. You were slightly disappointed, you wanted more to go in. You started to wriggle but she stopped you.

Her free hand firmly gripped your hip, “Oh now dove, you aren’t supposed to be enjoying this. I could go rough with you…”

Your eyes lit up hoping that she would.

“But I know you like it rough. So for your punishment, I’m going to go slow. Painfully slow.”

You pout.

“Now no pouting. You’re going to be grateful for whatever I give you, yeah? Fucking grateful.” She pulls your hair at the last sentence causing you to moan.

She then slides it in and out of you slowly, moving her hips with the same motion. She pictures that she is fucking you. Every stroke the handle does in you she imagines that it's her doing that to you.

While she’s in her head you're aching for more so you snake your hand down to your clit rubbing your bundle of nerves.

Thinking about her roughly going at you got you going faster and Mizu noticed your change of breath and that caught her attention.

You were close. So close, until she snatched your hand away and pinned it behind your back.

“Did I tell you you can fucking touch yourself, my little dove?” She seethed.

You lost your hand placement when she pinned you, your upper body was now fully on the stump.

“Hm?” She was waiting for an answer.

“N-no, I'm-I’m sorry Mizu.”

“I don’t believe you. But I don’t think that matters that much at the moment, since you want it rough that’s exactly what I’m going to give you. Gonna have you begging me to stop and I not going to because you did ask for permission and were being a fucking brat.”

Her words made you wet and she felt it when she leaned back from being pressed against you and saw you were practically soaking the handle.

“Fucking pathetic.” She said.

Her hand went down to the base of the blade and steadied herself while continuing to hold on to your pinned arm.

Without wanting she began to violently thrust into you causing you to swing your other around wanting some sort of touch from her.

She was too busy and out of arms to swat your other hand away.

You were a mumbling mess, drool came from your mouth smearing on your cheek and the flat wood surface.

“M-Mizu-u-u,” you cry to her.

“Yes, my little dove?”

You forgot what you were going to say, she was fucking you dumb.

She laughed, “Oh my little dove having a good time?”

You nod, gripping her sleeve from behind.

You were close to your orgasm and she could tell.

You were taking the handle very well practically swallowing it whole and she kept hitting your sweet spot.

“Fu-u-uck Mizu,” tears were streaming down your cheeks, freezing almost when they hit the winter air.

With one more thrust, she holds it in you and you squirt all over the handle and her hand.

You were breathing heavily, legs shaking and she slowly took the handle out, wiped it off, and placed it back in her holster.

You couldn’t move. You were still bent over the stump.

“Dove? Did I work you too hard?”

She bent down near your face wiping your matted hair off your face, petting the tears away.

I shake my head smiling slightly at her.

“It was perfect.” You whisper, “I just can’t get up.”

She chuckles slightly. “Let me help you.”

She picks you up and then seats you down on the stump. You hissed at the pain you had forgotten from your ass but pulled through as she picked up your soaked from the snow kimono.

She noticed you shaking from the cold. She takes off her haori and places it on you.

You look up at her, mouthing a thank you.

“I'll tell you what, once we get to the next town I'll buy you a new kimono.” She smiles down at you.

You smile back holding my hand up from her to help me stand, “A pretty one?”

You lean on her and we both walk back to where our cart was, “Yes my dove. The prettiest one,” she chuckles

You smile giddy and then look down at my hands and groan, “I got splinters in my hand! God this is gonna take forever to get out!”

She rolled her eyes smiling as she dragged you back over to the clearing.

On to round two before you annoy her more.

♡please like comment and/or reblog♡

wanna be tagged? (X)

#lovelybean #blue eye samurai #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu x y/n #wlw #lgbtqia #mizu x fem!reader

[ltbarnes]

Back to December (1/2)

Summary: Your new job as an assistant for the CEO of a big, shiny company was supposed to be a good thing. Instead your ex from uni who completely ghosted you out of nowhere several years ago happens to be one of your superiors. It doesn’t help that he’s only gotten more handsome over the years. But you hate him for leaving without an explanation, and he seems to hate you too. Everything is just fucking great.

Pairing: ex!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: OFFICE AU (Ghost is not ceo but he’s up there in the company somewhere), exes to enemies to lovers, harassment, past emotional violence/threats, ghost was a rugby player in uni lol, blood

A/N: I’m finally dipping my toe into another fandom 🫣 I’ve been obsessed with the cod men for months now so I suppose it’s time. this is the first part of two, maybe three. we’ll see where my imagination takes me!!

Part 2

Masterlist

So many years spent wondering what the hell happened that night, and there he is on the opposite side of the meeting room table gathering his papers into a neat pile. Simon always was organized, you remember.

He hasn't seen you yet. Or maybe he doesn't recognize you. You don't think you have changed that much, but you never know. More as a person than your appearance, you guess.

Maybe that's why you haven't fell down to the floor crying yet—you would have just a few years ago. Seeing your ex-boyfriend for the first time since you were 20 might do that to you.

But you just feel anger. Anger over the fact that Simon has the audacity to have grown into his looks that way, and that he's successful and has this great scruff on his face and that he just left and never said a word to you again. How dare he have a good life when he just abandoned you and your relationship that night all those years ago without giving you a reason for it.

Your new boss clears his throat, sitting down at one of the ridiculously expensive chairs right next to you. You didn't notice him come in, and you certainly haven't gotten used to his intimidating presence yet.

"Garcia, you have about...fifteen minutes to go through your presentation. I have another meeting with Hill soon." Mr. Price pauses to look down at his wrist watch for two seconds in the middle of his sentence, before nodding towards the beautiful redhead standing with a small remote in her hand.

For some reason this company seems to be where models who get tired of their careers come to work. You didn't exactly get that memo. It's only your second day here, and you feel intimidated by everyone. Maybe that's the way an assistant should feel.

"Y/l/n, you keeping notes for me?" Your head tilts up dangerously fast at the mention of your name, taking a few seconds too long to process his request, before nodding obediently.

"Yes, sir."

Your fingers click too loudly against the keys as you frantically try to draw up a document with the correct font and size. It's too quiet in here. You haven't done anything wrong, yet it feels like everyone is waiting for you to misstep. Your anxiety is a bitch.

"Riley. Riley, what the hell?" you hear someone whisper angrily. It's not until you hear a pen clatter to the floor that you dare to look up his way.

Honey brown eyes stare right into your goddamn soul. Your breath hitches, speeding up the pace of your anxiety-ridden heart even further. More than what's acceptable for sitting still in a work meeting. But your momentary weakness over catching his attention soon disappears, to be replaced by your anger again.

You look away with a clenched jaw, focusing on the keyboard right beneath you. Simon is still staring at you. You can feel it. Feels like it always used to do, but this time you don't want it. In your ideal world Simon Riley would not sit opposite you, would not stand up to join the beautiful, model redhead to hold a presentation where he keeps stumbling on his words all the time because of your presence. At least you think it's your presence, but you're not sure if it's in a good or bad way. For you it's bad.

But it does make you feel good that he keeps having these space outs—tripping over his words, forgetting them all together. It is not a good presentation on his part, and Ms. Garcia is getting increasingly more irritated at him for his lack of delivery. You hope she scolds him for it afterward. God knows you would like to throw every curse word you know at the man.

Should you be this angry after all these years? Should you have let it go a long time ago? Should you have stopped acting as if being with another man after him is betrayal? Probably. The last question is probably the answer to why you haven't really moved on from your hurt.

It just makes you so mad—for a year he was your entire world. Simon hugged you from behind each time he encountered you out in public and played with your hair as you fell asleep in his arms and woke you up with his fingers tracing patters on your hip. He fucked you until your bed broke and made love to you so gently you might as well have been made of glass to him. Two weeks from your anniversary he stopped talking to you. Not one thing of his was left in your dorm the next morning, and you didn't see him on campus even once during the term he had left of school. The few friends you had in common didn't talk to you anymore.

It broke your heart, to be abandoned like that. That night was already shit, and Simon just decided to make it ten times worse. You were in shock and all you wanted was his comfort. To find out he had left? You barely made it through that next semester.

For years you have pondered over what part of you was so unlovable that Simon couldn't even bear to say another word to you. Maybe his inability to function properly during this meeting wasn't due to shock, but instead disgust over having to be in the same room as you. Fuck, you are mad, and yet so scared that you have to meet him every single week from now on. You're not strong enough for that.

"That was...something. I expect you to be better prepared next time I see you, Riley," Mr. Price says, clicking his pen while pointing it towards Simon. "Don't know what the fuck that was," he mutters under his breath while rising from his chair.

You follow swiftly. The chair is too loud as it's pushed back. You cringe. Gathering your laptop and your papers is ungraciously done. Price still waits for you though, for some reason, but he sighs and puffs while doing so. Everyone else is quiet, besides the slap to his arm Simon receives from Ms. Garcia. They're probably dating. Two perfect, good looking people having perfect sex in their perfect apartments. You hate them both.

You try not to look at him as you walk out behind Mr. Price. But you still say a 'have a good day' that is too quiet to the room, answered with a few nods and some 'you too' back.

A small squeak of surprise escapes your lips when your boss comes to an abrupt halt in front of you. A millisecond is all it would take for you to have crushed into him, and that squeak leaves heat travelling to your face. He turns around, facing the room once again, with his usual glare.

"Don't bloody stare at my new assistant. I don't want another HR-situation with this one. Especially talking to you, Riley."

Price pins his glare on Simon, who gives him an equally harsh glare back. You are just about ready for the floor to break so you can fall through to the bottom level and run out of here. But you're frozen in your place, clutching your belongings to your chest tightly enough to make a computer-sized dent in your skin.

Without another word, your boss turns around and heads out of the room. You couldn't have moved any faster if you wanted to—already tight on his heels while your heart rate desperately tries to calm down. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. What the hell are you going to do? Ignore Simon and hope that you manage to avoid him for however long you'll work here? It feels kind of impossible, but the last thing you want is to talk to him. You couldn't.

You've just put down your things on your desk right outside of Price's office when he speaks again. His voice always manages to make you jump in your place, head flying up to meet his gaze.

"If Riley, or anyone else, gives you any trouble—you tell me," he says, unflinching and stoic.

You gulp, frozen in your position. "Oh—I, okay. Thank you." The words come out quieter than you wanted to.

"You seem like a good kid. Don't want these fucking fools to chase away 'nother one of my assistants."

The door to his office is closed the next second. You just stand there, dumbfounded and a little confused, but still flattered in some way. A good kid—you'll take that.

Popcorn crunches underneath your sneakers as you push yourself past the people going up and down the stairs, trickling out of the stadium with happy smiles on their faces and lively conversations exchanged now that the game is over. They won. The players are still out on the field, celebrating their victory with slaps to each other's backs, jumping up and down, impromptu attack hugs. You are giggling too, watching them.

Simon has torn his shirt off, sweaty, blond hair a mess as he shakes his head. Johnny just poured water all over him—the guy always gets so overexcited. And goddamn, your man looks good as he has that rare smile on his face.

The game was a really good one on his part. Everyone in the team calls him 'Ghost' because of how quickly and seamlessly he moves despite his size. And the big tattoo of a man wearing a skull mask on his arm. But once  he's out on the field, the players never expects his speed. At least one player during each game runs right into him, as if he was invisible. A ghost.

He hasn't noticed you yet, where you stand leaning against the railing. It's freezing out. The first really cold September day, and you didn't think to bring a proper jacket. But you don't really care, because seeing Simon and your friends this happy has plastered a permanent grin on your face.

"Riley, your girl!"

Someone shouts and points at you, alerting your boyfriend of your presence. His head whips in your direction, brown eyes pinpointing you in your place before a 6'2'' man starts barreling towards you. Simon throws the water bottle in his hand away carelessly as you giggle furiously over his excitement.

"Fuck, love," he says as he reaches his hands out, lifting you over the railing within a second. You yelp in surprise.

"Wha—Simon! Put me down!"

Simon just holds onto you tighter, pressing you close to him with your feet still in the air. How is he this strong? "Not a chance, Princess. We fucking won. I'm celebrating with my girl."

You chuckle, holding onto his shoulders while looking down at his sweaty face. "I know. I'm so proud of you."

A shy grin grows on his face, slowly setting you down onto the fake grass. "Really?"

"Really. It's the best you've ever played. Wanted to shout to everyone that it was my boyfriend doing all the best throws out there," you tell him, now looking up at him instead. God, he's tall.

Simon's mouth comes crashing down onto yours, giving you a sloppy kiss that makes you laugh.

"I lov—I loved having you here." Simon pauses in the middle of the sentence, as if he was supposed to say something else. "You're my fucking lucky charm, you know that?"

"I'm not so sure about that. You have lost quite a few games with me here as well," you tell him, ruffling his messy hair with your hand.

"Don't matter. I feel lucky anyway." A boyish grin adorns his face as he leans down to press a kiss to your head. "Now, tell me why in the hell my little lady is out here freezing her arse off 'cause she didn't bring a jacket? Like I told her to do?"

You groan, giving him a glare. "Stop. I should have listened to you, you were right, and all that. I know."

"Well, better for me, 'cause I get to rub my sweaty arms all over you now to warm you up."

"Go shower, you idiot." You push at his chest gently, rolling your eyes. He pretends to stumble backwards, holding his hands up.

"I will. Just wait a few seconds here, will you?"

Simon keeps walking backwards, waiting for your nod of confirmation, before breaking out into a jog towards the locker rooms.

You embrace your torso with your arms, rubbing up and down with your hands to warm your skin. There's so many players left on the field, still messing with each other like rugby teams usually do. Some you recognize—like Johnny and Gaz. They're your friends too. Others you have seen in passing at parties, in class. Some you only know because Simon complains about them to you. The fly-half never was his favorite. Graves, something? They're constantly at each other's throats.

Simon comes running out onto the field once more, this time with his jacket in hand. You sigh, scratching the skin above your eyebrow with a small smile.

"Si—you didn't have to. I'm fine," you say as soon as he's within earshot.

"Shut up. I'm being a bloody gentleman, just like my mum taught me."

The jacket is laid gently around your shoulders. You tug it tighter around you, because despite your words it is cold. And you love his jacket.

"Look at you. So fucking adorable."

You smile up at him, scrunching your nose. You love this fool. You love Simon Riley, have done so for many, many months. Haven't told him yet though. But it can wait—you have all the time in the world.

Simon is avoiding you. A week of not seeing him even once, despite the fact that you work on the same floor. You haven't attended any more meetings since your second day, but you still would have expected to run into him in the break room, or in the hallway. Hell, you've even delivered paper copies to his office and still haven't seen him.

You don't know what you feel about that. You are mad at him and you definitely don't want to be forced into an awkward encounter with your ex-boyfriend, but still not knowing why he left has chipped away at every ounce of confidence you had in yourself. Even now at your grown age. It's been several years since. It's pathetic. Maybe Simon realized that on a Friday night in December during his senior year of college—you are pathetic.

God, why are you still that 20-year old girl? Why are you sitting at your desk, 3:30 PM on a Wednesday, obsessing over every flaw you can come up with all because of a stupid man?

The anger you held towards him last Tuesday has morphed into deep self-hate. You begin to understand his perspective. He doesn't want to interact with the silly little girl he broke up with ages ago in her silly little assistant job. Simon is a senior executive in this company, for god's sake. He doesn't even have to send a second glance your way.

"Y/l/n! Coffee!" your boss yells from within his office. But the yelling and cold tone still doesn't offend you like it would any other person—it's just the way he is. Price has actually been pretty nice to you. You like him as your boss, despite his less than chipper attitude.

"Yes, sir," you shout back, rising from your seat.

You smooth down your dress, fiddle with your hair in the reflection of your laptop, before taking a deep breath. It's just a short trip to the break room. No big deal. Nobody actually cares that you are the new girl.

It's practically empty as you arrive, besides a man reading his newspaper in the corner while seemingly on an important call. Seems a little arrogant, but you know he's high up in the company. At least you think he is. Price doesn't like him. He told you so the first day.

A sigh of relief escapes your lungs as you walk to the expensive, Italian coffee machine. You press the double espresso button. No sugar, no milk. Just straight, black coffee for your boss. Kind of reflects his personality. It buzzes loudly as coffee drips into the cup, you standing there waiting patiently. It has started raining outside. You'll probably be soaking wet tonight once you come back to your apartment.

Someone comes standing beside you, taking a mug off the highest shelf. You catch a glimpse of his expensive suit before glancing upwards. Your lips part, almost just as shocked as you were last Tuesday. You can't catch a fucking break, can you?

"Johnny?"

The now bearded man, with a full head of hair as well, which he definitely didn't have when you last saw him, turns around towards you with a stoic expression. It doesn't change once he gets a good look at who said his name.

"You work here too?" you ask before gulping.

"Y/n," he says, a frown growing in between his eyebrows. "I work here, yes." The Scottish accent that you used to like listening to is now impossibly deeper.

"Uh, I—how you doing? It's been...a while." You glance away, cowering under his gaze. Soap always used to be so kind to you, treated you as if you were one of the boys. Insisted you call him Soap, something only his friends were allowed to call him. Now there is a hidden undertone of distaste in the way he looks at you. "See you've gotten rid of the Mohawk."

"I'm alright. Good to see ya', Y/n, but I gotta go back," he tells you. For some reason you feel like he's actually not all that happy to see you.

"Oh. Okay." The disappointment in your voice is clear. "We'll probably see each other again soon, I guess."

Johnny has already started walking away when the words leave your mouth. You hear him mumble a halfhearted 'Take care, lassie" before leaving you there dumbfounded and upright hurt with your boss's coffee cup. What was that?

You always knew Johnny was as loyal of a friend you could be, but...you didn't know he hated you that much. Especially when you didn't actually do anything against him. Not that you did anything against Simon either. That you know of. But, you know.

The short interaction leaves you jarred for the rest of your work day. You still get things done, but the look on Johnny's face is in the back of your mind the entire time. What did you do that was so bad that John goddamn MacTavish hates you for it?

It wasn't enough to work with the man who broke your heart, but your ex-friend as well. His best friend. You will never be welcomed here if half of the company leaders consist of people who have a grudge against you spanning years.

When the clock strikes 6, Price sends you home. He will probably stay for another few hours, you think, because there has been empty takeout containers in his office the morning after every day this week. You tell him to have a good night, he answers with a grunt, and then you and your bag take off through the hallways.

Your heels click against the floor as you walk through the mostly empty office space. Some rooms still have their lights on, casting shadows over the mahogany desks and the important people sitting behind them.

You halt your steps as you hear two voices wrapped into a conversation with each other. Someone must have left their door open. You don't want to eavesdrop, but it gets hard to resist when you recognize Johnny's voice from earlier.

"You can't avoid her forever," he says.

"Well, don't you think I fucking know that?"

You freeze as you instantly recognize the deep, rumbling timber of Simon's voice answering Soap. Fucking hell—they're talking about you. You can't not eavesdrop now.

"It's just—it's fucking hard, you know? She just walks in here all..."

"Met her in the break room earlier. Making coffee for Price."

"Yeah? She said somethin'?" Simon's voice sounds curious, eager almost.

"Asked how I was doing, the usual. Didn't know I worked here, it seemed like." A sigh sounds from the room, and you press yourself even closer to the wall. Please, for the love of god, don't let anyone walk by. "I couldn't just act like normal. I can't be fuckin'...nice to someone like that. When I know your past."

"What—you were fucking rude, or what? Just ignored her?"

"No, for fuck's sake. Left pretty quick, though. I just don't have any respect for things like that. You know that."

"Yeah." Simon lets out a bitter chuckle. If you could see him, he'd probably be shaking his head now. "I'm still fucking angry, you know? Can barely stand to be in the same room."

You bite down on your lip, shaking your head to yourself. You can't listen to the two of them talk about how much they hate you. How they don't have respect for 'things' like you. It's nauseating. Your limbs shake with poorly contained anger, but still the urge to cry is even stronger.

But there's no other way out than past his office. So you brave it—practically sprint by with your hand covering the side of your face in hope that they won't see who it is. You don't think they do. The blinds were down.

A single, pathetic tear slips down your face as soon as you exit the building. Cars fly past you, lights blaring everywhere, noise unending. You just want to go home. But you know the overthinking won't stop there.

As the obnoxiously loud alarm disturbs your sleep that finally came about three hours before, you groan into your pillow and wish for it to be anything else but Thursday. You want the weekend. You want to sleep in and wallow in the fact that you probably won't have this job for very long after what you heard Simon and Johnny say about you yesterday.

You don't even bother putting on heels this morning. An old pair of ballerina shoes and a thick, fuzzy sweater over your dress is what you drag yourself to the office in. It's cold and you're exhausted and sad. You can't stand people not liking you—it takes over every part of your being. And when it's Simon...

There's a meeting going on. Price gave you a list of everyone's coffee orders and made you run over to the shop across the street. You see Simon's name taunting you at the top of the list. A cortado, extra sugar. Fuck, he's still the same.

It takes twenty minutes of queuing before you manage to get to the counter. Another ten to have everyone's order ready. The bag is ridiculously heavy as you carry it out of the coffee shop. The meeting will probably be over by the time you arrive, and then Price will curse you out and you will cry, because today you cannot handle even the smallest criticism.

You're a little sweaty by the time you reach the fourteenth floor of the building, which is fine, but the panting doesn't exactly add to your charisma that somehow seems to repent your coworkers from your person. For a minute you stand outside the meeting room, gathering yourself enough to be somewhere near presentable. Not entirely, but as close as you will get.

The door is shouldered open with a little force. More than you thought it would take. Nobody really gives a thought to your presence—they continue the meeting as if you weren't there at all, and you like it that way. You try to match each coffee to the right person on the list. But there's thirteen of them, and you have yet to learn everyone's name.

You feel Simon's eyes on you the entire time you spend in that room. He's anything but subtle, staring right at you without shame. He doesn't even answer as someone calls him by name. And it's pure spite leaving him for last. His order is the only one you know by heart, but keeping him waiting for a few extra minutes is deserved, you think. Maybe it just gives him more fuel to hate you, but if he's going to hate you, you might as well give it right back.

His ring-clad fingers clasp around the paper mug, slowly bringing it up to his lips as if taunting you with the existence of them. God, they are so full and pink and—no. Don't even go down that route. It'll all make it so much harder to live like this if you keep thinking about how fucking attractive Simon has become with his still blond hair slightly unkept from running his hand through it during the day and how his shirt strains against his muscles and the fact that he is still so, so tall.

"This is cold."

The room falls silent, at least you think it does, as Simon's harsh voice echoes throughout the confines of the four walls. The coffee belonging to the person sitting beside him is steaming. You know he's lying. He sets down the mug on the table, glaring up at you with such distaste in his eyes. You never thought that look would be reserved for you.

"Can't even get a bloody coffee order right, can you?" Simon's chuckle is deprecating, shaking his head to himself as if his irritation almost amuses him.

But you just flinch. He doesn't see it, but you think the rest of the room does. His tone fucking hurts. And that he would publicly humiliate you like this?

"Oh, uh..." You want so badly to have a good comeback, something that will make him shrink in his chair, but all you can get out is a stupid 'oh'. Standing there all small and speechless makes you feel dumb. "I'll get a new one."

Your response seems to catch his attention. His gaze flickers up, back to you, and the cruelty falters for a few seconds to be replaced by something likened to...regret? Probably not.

"Riley can drink his cold goddamn coffee. He'll survive," Price chimes in, waving with his pen as a signal for whoever was speaking before to continue.

You nod, clenching your jaw to stop the trembling, before escaping out of the room as quickly as possible without it seeming suspicious.

A shaky, deep breath is inhaled and exhaled as soon as you get out. It was already a bad day, yes, but nearly crying because Simon told you his coffee was cold? That's just childish. You need to pull yourself together if you're going to keep this job. Price clearly doesn't like weakness.

The rest of the day is calm. Mostly you're reviewing Price's schedule, emailing people back and forth about changing meetings and setting them up. He even gives you an extra break, which is so well needed and probably out of pity, but you'll take it.

You realize that you are so fucking petty when your final task of the day, once again, is to deliver some kind of contract to Simon's office. You know he's out on a meeting with a client—you heard him walking past earlier, talking to that client on the phone. You gather your belongings, say goodbye to Price, before heading towards Simon's on your way down.

Stepping inside feels like walking right into his arms. His cologne hangs heavy in the air. Fuck him for still using the same scent.

The entirety of his office is neatly organized, everything in its place. So you move things. A sharpener gets to change its designated spot from desk to shelf. Files labeled under 'F' gets shoved in between 'S' and 'T'. You even go as far as taking out some of the files from one folder, placing it in another. The printer gets unplugged.

Doing something to his old copy of The Fellowship of the Ring that stands proudly on display in his bookcase crosses your mind, but you do want to stay alive long enough to see the end of the week, at least. You remember one time when he slept with it as if it was a stuffed animal. You're being petty, not suicidal.

Your final masterpiece in your rampage is the unscrewing of a wheel on his desk chair. Just the thought of Simon pushing his chair back only for it to suddenly tilt makes you giggle. God, you really are a child.

Any sane person wouldn't even notice half the things you've done in here. But Simon is not sane. This can throw off his entire day, week even. You know from firsthand experience.

Yeah, Simon goddamn Riley broke your fucking heart and now has the audacity to punish you for it. You won't take that.

Simon has been in such a bad mood the entire day. You heard him cursing all the way from his office. Some poor intern got yelled at in the hallway (you really are sorry for that), and you overheard a few of your colleagues mention that he didn't speak to anyone during the entire morning meeting. Price apparently cursed him out for it in front of everyone. That's a little funny, at least.

On one hand you feel proud of your ability to still piss him off without him knowing. On the other hand, you're not too happy yourself. Your situation hasn't exactly changed—half the office still hasn't talked to you, and the ones that do keep strictly work related conversations. You're lonely.

Despite it being Friday, you get off when the sun has already set. It's pouring rain outside and you don't have an umbrella. You really don't have the energy to deal with that as you gaze warily out of the window from your desk. You could take the subway instead of walk all the way home, but you would still get soaking wet during the trek to the station.

"Goodbye, Mr. Price. Have a good weekend," you say, popping your head into his office with a sweet smile on your lips.

"Call me John," he answers without even looking up from whatever report he's reviewing. Still that monotone voice as if he's always tired of hearing people talk.

"Oh. Uh—okay, John," you stutter out. What? He never lets anyone call him by first name.

"Get home safe," Price tells you. Has he grown soft? What's happening? "Have a fuck load of reports needing organization on Monday." There it is.

You smile to yourself, shaking your head lightly, before mumbling another 'bye' to your boss. He lifts his head in a subtle nod as answer. Actually, you might have a chance to stay here if he likes you. He is the CEO after all.

The hallways are dark except the few offices still lit up like every night. These people barely have a life outside of work, it seems like. It's kind of sad. Then again, you don't either, if what counts as a life is having friends and significant others and people who care about you. But at least you have time for doughing in your couch and taking a walk around the neighborhood.

But your daydreaming and overthinking of course leads you into trouble. Rounding the corner forces you right into another person, making you stumble backwards a few steps before a clammy hand grabs your arm to stop you from falling.

"I'm so, so sorry," you say, looking up at the man standing in front of you. It's that executive-something Price doesn't like. Shepherd? An American.

"Don't worry that pretty little head of yours, darling," he says, without backing away from you. He keeps that close distance, letting you feel his dank breath properly.

You gulp, before attempting to release your arm from his grip. He doesn't budge. Your heart rate speeds up instantly.

"Haven't talked to you properly before, sweetheart. Just seen you strutting 'round these hallways in your dresses." He looks down at your wide eyes, before they slowly rake over the rest of your body. Your chest starts to heave up and down as if you've just come back from a run. It's clear he wants something more than just a simple conversation with the new assistant.

"I'm—I'm sorry. I have to go. Train," you stutter out, attempting to tear yourself away from his harsh grip around your arm. You can't.

"Don't be like that, darlin'. I just wanna have a talk, that's all," he tells you, his warm breaths hitting your face.

"Please, sir, I really have to go. We can talk on Monday."

Shepherd raised an eyebrow, gaze flickering down to your chest again as if you can't see it clearly, before tapping your cheek condescendingly with the palm of his hand.

"Alright, sweetheart. Come into my office on Monday. Appreciate it if you'd wear one of those pretty dresses. Makes my day much better, having somethin' sweet to look at."

A wet kiss is pressed to the back of your hand—something that he might think is gentlemanly, but sends shivers down your entire spine out of disgust. You're frozen still as he squeezes your hip before he leaves, leaving you to hear his dress shoes clink against the floor.

The further away he gets, the harder it gets for you to breathe. Panic grows in your chest, tears already threatening to fall as you finally get yourself to move, rushing towards the elevator and pressing the button too many times.

He was so close. And the way his grip tightened as you tried to step away, the squeeze of your hip. It's too much like last time. Too much like that fucking December night all those years ago.

Clear pictures of Philip and his friends flashes past the forefront of your mind as you rush from the elevator, already heaving from your tears. It's empty, thank god, since the guards are posted outside of the main entrance. Philip morphs into the man from just a minute ago. Pushing you against the wall at that party, grinning right in your face as you tell them to stop.

The backdoor leading into the alleyway beside the building is where your feet leads you towards without consulting you. It's better, maybe. You don't want anyone to see you like this.

But those goddamn revolving doors acting as the main entrance starts to move, you hear that, and soon enough someone steps inside with haste in their walk.

"Y/l/n!" someone shouts angrily. You know exactly who it is. "Why the fuck did you move all my stuff? I swear to god—"

Your back is facing away from him, but maybe he still sees the way your shoulders shake from behind. Maybe that's why he falters in his steps. Maybe that's why he decides to cut the first real sentences he's said to you directly since you started working here short.

The last crumb of composure turns to dust, and your hand flies up to your mouth to muffle the first real sob from your lips. You escape through the door, out into the cold, rainy alleyway as your cries turn too forceful to stop.

It's wet and dirty and crawling with grovel as your knees hit the ground harshly. You manage to turn yourself around to lean your back against the cold brick wall instead. It'll all bring you grief later, but right now your legs can't carry your weight.

With a bang, the door flies wide open once more. Long legs bend down, big hands on your arms.

"Y/n. Y/n, c'mon. Why are you crying?"

Simon's voice is drowning in urgency, his shakes of your shoulders almost forceful. But you can't stop crying. And you're still so fucking angry with him.

"Don't touch me," you sob, pushing his hands away from you. The rain grows heavier the same second, soaking the entirety of you as you sit there on the dirty ground.

"Alright, alright. I won't," he breathes out, holding his hands up beside him. Those big, veiny fucking hands that you have missed every day since he last put them on you. "But you gotta tell me what's wrong."

"Why?" you almost yell, tilting your head up, away from the palms of your hands previously hiding your face. You get raindrops right in your eyes. "You hate me, don't you? Can't even stand to be in the same room as me!"

"Y/n," he growls, as if he's scolding you with the simple mention of your name. "You know bloody fucking well I don't hate you. Now tell me what the hell's making you sob like this. You're sitting on the ground, for fuck's sake."

You dry away your tears, despite it being so futile in this rain, while letting out a bitter chuckle. "All due respect, you're the last person I wanna talk to."

Simon lets out a shaky breath, one filled with frustration. "So fucking stubborn..."

He shakes his head. "Just—just let me drive you home, at least, okay? The trains from this station are cancelled. Blowing up to a storm."

The words you were about to force out through your tears disappear completely. Instead you just stare at the man now looking down at you with something likened to concern. Still has that frown in between his eyebrows.

"I'm not going to get in a car with you, Riley," you mumble out. If you had your way it would sound angrier, more assertive, but your voice fails you.

"Riley, huh? That's where it's at?" Simon scoffs, as if he didn't call you by your last name a few minutes earlier. "Just get up, c'mon."

"No." You shake your head, looking down in your lap. In reality you're not just apprehensive because of your anger towards him—he's a man at the end of the day, and you are his ex-girlfriend who he dislikes very strongly.

"Are you—for god's sake." He shakes his head again. "I'm not going to hurt you, Y/n. I would never harm you. Not any woman," he tells you. How can he still read you this well?

You don't answer. Just take your wet sleeve to dry away even more tears. How to stop crying in front of your ex seems to be an art you haven't mastered yet.

"Okay, I'll make you a deal. You let me get you a taxi home, after you get out of this fucking rain and step inside. That alright with you?"

You nod with a sniffle, reaching for your bag beside you.

"C'mon."

Simon nods towards the door, reaching his hand out. You take it, because there's no chance you would manage to get up all by yourself. But that's the only reason.

He holds the door open for you, letting you slip inside again. Exactly how much the rain soaked you hits you as you step inside, instantly freezing cold and uncomfortable. And goddamn your right knee hurts. Falling down to the ground did come with consequences, it seems.

"Fucking hell," Simon mutters under his breath as soon as he gets inside, dripping water down onto the shiny floor. His suit is entirely soaked too.

You see a glance of yourself in a mirror as you take off your heels. There's mascara underneath your eyes. You try to remove it furiously with your fingers.

"Don't have to do that. Nothing that I haven't seen before," Simon speaks up from behind you, looking at you as well through the mirror.

You glance up at him, just for half a second, before lowering your arms slowly. And then you rummage through your bag with trembling hands, finding a napkin you kept from a restaurant. You dry away the mascara with that instead.

Simon looks at you, really looks at you, as you stand there dripping water onto the floor and makeup ruined and your clothes dirty. You feel so vulnerable underneath his gaze. What is he trying to find?

"Bloody hell, Y/n. You're bleeding for fuck's sake. That's a fucking gash."

He points at your knee. You look down, seeing the outpouring of blood running down your leg from the open wound right below your knee. It does look very, very bad. Like, you're slowly becoming nauseous by looking at it. How didn't you notice it earlier?

"Oh."

"I'm driving you wether you like it or not." Simon stalks up to you, grabbing a hold of your arm to put it around his shoulder. His arm sneaks its way around your waist. Fuck.

"Do I get a say in this?" you ask. You know what the answer is, but you also don't understand. What is this? Why is he doing this for you? A few days ago he was talking shit about you with Soap and humiliated you purposely in front of your co-workers. Now he's getting worried about you crying and driving you home from work?

"No."

Part 2

#cod mw2 #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #ghost fic #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #back to december

[27goldensun]

Is it worth it? An analysis on Louis’ stunts

Lately there has been a shift in how Louis’ stunts are being presented to the fandom, with babygate mentions growing and seemingly being pushed by Louis himself.

I have taken some time to go over some (very arbitrary) success indicators that could possibly justify this push in stunts as a marketing ploy, however I have only confirmed my suspicions that the fanbase IS NOT HAPPY and that has been translating in Louis’ numbers.

(May I add that I focused more on louis’ relationship with his fanbase and I know that’s not everyone’s definition of success so I also added streaming numbers)

I took my numbers from this website and I looked through late 2021 and 2022 mostly

Starting off, lets look at Louis’ twitter following and activity:

Number of followers

Throughout August, September, October and November 2021, louis gained between 20k and 40k followers each month, those numbers were much higher during the earlier months of 2021, so what could have sparked that change?

The first picture of louis with F in years dropped in August, which happens to coincide with the sudden drop in Louis’ following

In December, the First Christmas BS happened, and that generated a drop in his following (he didn’t actually start losing followers until 2022, but he only gained 4K in December 2021) that would be weird on its on, but paired with the start of his tour (in which his numbers should be increasing much more) it was very obviously correlated.

Now onto 2022, which was quite an eventful year

2022 marked the start of LTWT which was not only an incredible time for preexisting fans could have been a great opportunity to increase his fanbase by giving him more visibility, especially paired up with a new album. We’ll see that this wasn’t the case

The beginning of the year presented Louis with a slow, especially if compared to 2021, but steady raise in following. This drastically changed in July.

The infamous dm leak happened on July 30th 2022 and it greatly impacted the fandom, which was translated into Louis social media following. Looking at it comparatively, in June 2022 he gained 129k followers, in July that number dropped to 26k, showing the impact of those final 2 days. In August, his numbers only continued to drop.

With the album announcement, one could’ve expect a raise in following and activity, but the opposite happened, and I can’t help but link it with the marketing strategy that was chosen, with further mentions of his “personal” life, especially bbg

The promotional interviews began July 2022 still during LTWT and, at first, they were stunt free (with the exception of one Interview on July 21 2022, in which he stumbled when saying F’s name, something he seemed much more comfortable with later on).

September 6, 2022: It is during an interview with Radio Deejay Itália that the mentions truly begin. Louis brings up Freddie unprompted and says he travels to LA often to visit him, from this point forward, the kid is often brought up.

November 2022 we get all those articles saying “louis finds parenting to be challenging”, over 100 copy and paste articles of this nature were posted.

December 2022 the Christmas Bs 2.0 took place, with the kid being flown to the UK and spending around a week there, between Christmas and New Years. The only footage of louis and F interacting was posted on Louis’ birthday, in a short video of the two in a dinner with the rest of the Tomlinsons.

How did this translate in his twitter following? When FITF promo started, Louis only lost followers

August 2022 he lost 7k

September 2022 he lost 33k

October 2022 he lost 24k

November 2022 he lost 29k followers (not good right after an album announcement)

December 2022 he lost 28k followers

January 2023 he lost 43.9k (the most so far)

But did all this only happen to his twitter following? Surely that’s not the only indicator of his success and relationship with his fanbase?

I agree, although louis does seem to use twitter the most when connecting with fans, lets look through his instagram

When FITF promo started, Louis only lost followers

August 2022 he lost 24k

September 2022 he lost 18k

October 2022 he lost 30k

November 2022 he lost 49k followers (not good right after an album announcement)

December 2022 he lost 33k followers

January 2023 he lost 62.8k (the most so far)

Looking at his streaming statistics

(I’m using walls as a comparison for timeline purposes, although im well aware walls promo was far from stunt free, it seems most fans have, understandably, a harder time dealing with bbg than Eleanor)

*Walls debuted at number nine on the US Billboard 200 with 39,000 album-equivalent units

*Faith in the Future debuted at number five on the Billboard 200 selling 43,000 album-equivalent units

So there was obviously an improvement on FITF debut, but has it been consistent since the album release?

The “this is Louis tomlinson playlist” on Spotify

May 2021 The "This Is Louis Tomlinson" playlist reached 250k likes

February 2023 The "This Is Louis Tomlinson" playlist reached 320k likes

Album stream milestones

Walls

Over 100 million streams on Spotify: February 6th, 1 week after its release

FITF

Over 100 million streams on Spotify: December 10th, 1 month after its release

So, overall, the situation does not seem to be improving…

I will later go through his tour sales, but given the different venue sizes this could be a bit tricky

My interpretation of those numbers i presented is that no, it is not worth it. Regardless on your opinion about bbg, from a marketing standpoint this image doesn’t seem to be doing Louis any favors…

(Please feel free to add your thoughts, I’d love to deepen this discussion)

Also, I don’t think any stunt that furthers a queer person’s closeting could ever be “worth it”, this was just my attempt to try to see what could be their motivations for this (although if its commercial success, it’s definitely not working)

#louis tomlinson #babygate #bbg #stunts #analysis #faith in the future #fitf #walls #streams

[generic-sonic-fan]

Why the heck E-123 Omega fascinates me so much

Look I'm not going to lie to you the reason I love Omega so much is that his canon writing is actually pretty lazy. They needed a "Heavy" character to pair with Shadow and Rouge so the writers had them stumble into a robot in the basement who's Gamma's half cousin-brother-something.

Hey player, remember that robot who had an arc and turned good in Sonic Adventure? let's just do that but again. don't worry about it don't think about it too hard.

Except the writers got even lazier this time around and his ENTIRE POTENTIAL CHARACTER ARC is summarized in one line by Rouge's dialogue, "You're mad at Eggman for sealing you in this room" (Sonic Heroes, 2003). Gamma's entire character arc, summarized neatly for the player, so they can start the platforming sections as soon as possible. It's videogame writing. It's not supposed to be a literary masterpiece, so it makes sense that they're borrowing on a concept that a fan of the Sonic games would have seen before if they'd payed Sonic Adventure.

Except, in the attempt to be as lazy as possible, they accidentally created a new type of character that hasn't been explored before??

Because Omega is NOT Gamma. Omega couldn't possibly be more different from Gamma! One destroys Eggman robots to bring about peace, the other as an act of war. One is quiet and contemplative, the other loud and brash. One chooses to cease existing, while the other so desperately wants to live. One is gentle and kind, and the other is just so angry.

In a franchise full of themes about the responsibility of creators to not cause harm with or to their creations, it's baffling to me that Omega is just dropped into the narrative and then promptly forgotten about. There's so many implications with Omega that would be fascinating to dig into from a fan perspective!

What made him the way that he is? Why is he so different from Gamma, so furious?

Now that he's out of the basement, how will he learn about the world outside?

How does his perspective of his origin from Eggman color his experiences and beliefs about things?

This guy has never had a friend before. How does he react to that?

How does he, an ex-Eggman robot designed to kill supersonic hedgehogs, interact with Sonic, the person he was likely designed to kill? Moreover, how does Sonic react to him in return?

Does Omega ever get lonely, as the only robot amongst organics?

How does he relate to Shadow, who was also made as a living weapon?

Meanwhile, trying to get him to show vulnerability is like pulling teeth. It takes a herculean effort to get him to show anything other than the front he puts up. Why's he putting up this front? What could get him to let down this front, even if just for a moment?

(for fuck's sake he's a tsundere. This should be at least a popular topic to explore, shouldn't it?)

And look, I understand. The reason that Omega hasn't been explored nearly as much Shadow is because he's been in less games and, when he has been in games, he's written as a one-note comic relief. But. . . so has Knuckles. So has Amy. So has Sonic. So has Rouge. . . the list goes on, yet the fandom lovingly embraces complex fan characterizations for them. But some fans continue to see Omega as a non-character. Which, as I've just explained, is baffling to me, because this guy has so much potential and transformative fan works are a place to explore that potential.

TL;DR: funny gun robot spin in my brain like he's in microwave despite the intentions of the Sonic Heroes writers. hehe. Go vote for Omega in the Team Dark poll.

MLA Citation for Fern:

Sonic Team, "Sonic Heroes". Sega, 3 December 2003, as cited from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6-SWVIr274

@fernsnailz

#OMEGASWEEP #friendly reminder to go vote for Omega in Fernsnailz's poll #e-123 omega #e123 omega #sth

[oflights]

2023 fic review!

ahhh thanks for tagging me, @citrusses and @oknowkiss! i'm going to tag @teledild0nix @elskanellis @arminaa8 @thecouchsofa @stationintern and anyone else who'd like to do this!!

my 2023 AO3 stats are...alarming lol. AO3 counts Close Behind as a 2023 fic because i finished posting it in 2023, but i really wrote it all in 2022. so if we discount that (which was 134k) i still wrote...over 330k words of fanfiction. 🆗🆒

do i have regrets? no. should i have regrets? maybe??? in any case, 2023 was the year i really started using tumblr for fandom again (thanks, elon!) and i made so many wonderful friends who were so supportive and inspiring! that word count is all your fault, basically.

here's the (all drarry) damage:

January

Close Behind (134k words, M)

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back.

February

find a new place to be from (47k words, E)

Something is wrong with Malfoy Manor, and it’s driven Draco into the Muggle world. Thankfully, Harry is now on the case. A story about houses that haunt you and homes built for two.

April

along each garden wall (61k words, E)

Draco has to have a baby (or have one on the way) at the time of his fast-approaching 35th birthday, or he's going to lose his home to his vile cousin. Harry offers to help, but their complex past—even beyond Hogwarts—prompts Draco to set out on a long journey of friendship, kittens, gardens, motorbike rides, and more.

May

the first in line (29k words, E)

Harry finds out he's a Veela. That's not so bad, and then he finds out his allure only works on his enemies. Even that's not so bad, since his safe, boring, post-war life means he doesn't have very many enemies these days. And then Draco Malfoy lands a hot air balloon in his front garden, intent on courting him.

June

please come to boston, Byzantine, and go to it laughing

(tumblr prompt fics! i was not good at this lol)

August

Cool About It (16k words, M, for @hp-bodiceripper)

Harry is so excited for his first date with Draco. But what follows isn't so much a date as it is an all-night odyssey including a malevolent lift, a Gringotts heist, a Sleeping Curse, a trip to the kebab shop, a lack of dancing, a Muggle drug, a rooftop pool party, a black eye and, eventually, a sunrise over a Quidditch stadium.

October

if the bees know (19k words, T, for @hd-fan-fair)

Scorpius' playground is haunted, Harry specializes in helping ghosts pass on, and Draco just wants his son to be safe.

December

The Star Splitter (WIP, 119k words so far, E)

On a routine time travel assignment to the past, Draco stumbles upon 7-year-old Harry Potter and witnesses his neglect and mistreatment by the Dursleys. In the moment, there is only one solution, even if it goes against all his training as a Time Agent: he has to bring Harry back to the future with him. In which Draco burns his life down for the sake of his former school rival.

#oflights #drarry fic #year in review #drarry #fic year in review #tag game #will add my erised fic in here when it's revealed 👀 #but anyway. i posted fic in 8/12 months so that's. casual #right #it's fine #everything is fine!!! #lmao #also as a reminder that's the painting draco cries over in pepper spray fic!!! #important

[xxcherrydevilxx]

Fated Eve

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Fandom: BSD; Ranpo x fem!reader

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Warnings: N/A, really just fluff

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Summary: drinking a beer in the parking lot of a convenience store is not how many will be spending New Year's Eve, but it is for you. When a pretty boy drops some glasses and hurries off without realizing it, you spend the last hours of the new year trying to hunt him down. 

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A/N Thoughts: Kept thinking about this idea while at work and just really liked the image of it. I knew I wouldn't be able to write it the day of new years eve so i'm trying to get it done quickly so errors might be apparent.

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Word Count: 2811 

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A/N Afterthoughts: so cheesy, so found family, wish this was my New Year’s, need more Ranpo fanfiction. Finished this up at 9 pm, have work at 9 am, hope you all don't die of sweetness overload, and have a happy new year! Perhaps you’ll find some cute guy’s glasses and have a Tumblr love story.

The beer wasn’t as refreshing as you had hoped, and the concrete parking lot bumper wasn’t as comfy as your sofa would have been, either. But you couldn’t go back to your apartment because your roommate was throwing a New Year's Eve party, and you knew absolutely no one who was attending. You stepped out to get some fresh air after some random couple came tumbling into your bedroom hoping to get some “privacy,” you called it quits there. Maybe there was somewhere more comfortable to sit and drink alone. But as you leaned your head back and took in the countless stars in the night sky, you didn’t want to get up; this view was worth it. The air was practically fizzing with the anticipation of all the people waiting with bated breath for the final hours to tick down and for it to be an amazing new year, a year filled with new aspirations, goals, and anything you could possibly imagine. 

You are hoping for a few of your goals and dreams to get crossed off. Land a new job? Figure out a better living situation, and finish your bachelor's. The new year always held such innocent hope, despite nothing different from the ones past. 

You took another sip of your beer and stretched out your legs on the cool concrete, thinking back on your year with bittersweet memories. A car pulled into the parking lot next to you. You gave the driver a quick lookover; a man who seemed frantic as he patted down his jeans and rushed into the convenience store. Party stragglers, you had seen a few come and go as you relaxed in the biting cold December air. Teenagers trying not to get carded, college kids like you, stumbling and laughing out into the cold air as their breath billowed and faded into the night sky. Friends, lovers, family… and then there was you alone in your own bubble. You faintly felt the tug of loneliness as you watched all the different faces march on, their arms linked or holding hands, while you sat on cement and drank a cheap beer. 

A man jumped over the parking bump as he rushed toward the street, arms ladened with bags. You could see the faint outline of snacks: gummy bears, chocolate, all sweets. His step seemed to have a skip in it, and his outline against the pitch-black sky made you breathe in for no other reason but the beauty of it. The image of someone so alone like yourself, but still finding joy and rushing back to where he had come from. You knew he was probably racing back to a place filled with joyful laughter, goofy 20XX hats, and the murmur of the countdown playing in the background. You perched your chin on the top of your bottle, eyes squinting slightly in thought as the figure continued to get smaller and smaller. Your eyes were transfixed on the man you almost didn't feel the tap on your shoulder. 

“E-excuse me miss? Are these yours?” the man from before asked. The hasty one had now come back out of the convenience store with an armful of beer, the same brand as yours. You turned your head slightly, your hair swishing down your shoulder as you took in his face, then the faint object in his hands. Glasses.

“Oh, no those aren't-” the man let out a groan of annoyance. Before you could finish, you hastily changed your answer as if his displeasure was enough for such a white lie.

“Those aren't mine, but they are friend’s of mine.” you conceded, smiling up politely at the man who held a pensive look on his face.

“Great. Here,” he said,  tossing the glasses before turning and getting into his car. He spun out of the parking lot as you fumbled to catch the glasses, staring blankly at them and then back up at the red car lights of his; which was speeding down the desolate road.

  Whose even were these? 

You turned the glasses over in your hands, taking in the rims and the dark black color that made it fade into the darkness if you didn’t squint hard enough. No initials, typical, but you had a hard time making out if these were even prescriptions. They couldn’t be? Could they? Would someone be able to lose such glasses? Surely they would have been wearing them.

You deduced quickly; they weren't prescriptions, no way… so then, whose were they? You gently sat the glasses down beside you, pulling your hands close to your mouth as you blew warm air over your knuckles, the chilly December breeze finally getting to you. You don’t know why you were so intrigued about who these glasses belonged to; it didn’t matter, did it? You could simply give them to the cashier and let them deal with it. But another part of you, perhaps that innocent hope that had been blossoming since you sat out in the cold air and gazed up at the stars, found excitement in such a small task. A chase against time to find the owner! Or, as your roommate would call it, a goose chase to find who you think could be the owner. You eyed the glasses as the lenses looked out towards the road.

“Just whose owners are you, huh?” you mumbled out loud. Your chin resting on your knees that you had pulled up, and your hand tracing the rims. You were bored; that much was apparent, you were talking to someone's glasses for Christ's sake. You were also as curious as a cat, and the idea of chasing someone down on New Year's… finding them just as the time changed… maybe it would be a handsome man? Woman? Someone to make this new year start with a flourish.

Well, that did it. You jumped to your feet, clapping your hands together to gain some warmth, pocketing the glasses and taking one last sip of your beer for fools' courage; you got to work. 

You stood in the parking lot for a second, hands on your hips, as you looked at the double doors and the flickering lights inside. If the glasses belonged to someone who came in before or after the hasty man with the bad driving skills; giving them around a ten-minute window because if they had already been there for too long someone else would have either grabbed them or the cashier would have put them behind the register. You ran through the customers you had seen come in before the man; a woman and boy, perhaps her son, who had a silly News Year hat on and who clutched his mother’s hand tightly and stared wide-eyed at everything around at him, even waving at you when they emerged out of the store. If it was their glasses the curious boy would have probably picked them up, so you mentally crossed them off on your list.

Next up was a group of teens trying to illegally buy beer. You could tell because they looked so young there was no way they could get away with it… and because they asked you to buy for them which garnered a laugh. They never even entered the store, knowing their chances were slim, so the glasses must not be theirs as you would have heard the clatter if they did fall out of a pocket. 

All that was left was… Ah! The sweets boy! He came in shortly after the hasty man, and his hands were so full he couldn’t possibly have noticed the glasses slipping, his fast steps probably even blocking out the noise. You couldn’t have noticed either, being too busy watching the peppy man bounce off with glee, and the hasty man must have come out shortly after because he pulled you out of your lull and handed you the lost item.

Yes! That must be it! You quickly pulled out the glasses to look at their now smudged frames.

“I think I figured out your owner,” you said valiantly to the inanimate object. You rubbed the lenses clean and, for the hell of it, put them on. You had no trouble looking through the lenses, confirming to you that they were, in fact, not prescription. Now you just had to track down a joyful man who loved sweets on New Year's Eve. To some, the task might have felt daunting, how could someone find one ordinary person in a sea of party-goers? Great question!

You did not have an answer!

Maybe just- go down the road they went? Yeah, that sounded wise, maybe it was the glasses making you so smart. 

Throwing your beer bottle into recycling, you went on. Passing by apartments, homes, and businesses, all of which had their lights on, the faint hum of their TVs tuned to the same channel, and the murmur of laughter inside. You stopped occasionally, standing and looking in at the happy-go-lucky people, trying to pick out the boy you were looking for. None of them fit the description you had of the man, so you tossed your head and went on. Okay, think back… what was he wearing again? You hummed and closed your eyes, calling up the image of the black-haired man with some brown type of jacket over a button-up. You had originally pegged him as a college student, but now that you had to think, no college student ever dressed like that, or at least not the ones you ran with on campus. 

“Come on new years luck! Give me a sign!” you pleaded to the sky. Pressing your hands together in mock prayer and bowing your head as if the spirit of luck would answer you. You must have looked so strange to people who drove past or anyone who might take a look out their window. A girl with knee-high boots overtop their bare skin, a loose fitted shirt that was thrown hastily on over a tank top with glasses on and their head bowed.

“Dazai-san you don’t understand,” a voice whined across the street, making you open one eye to look over at the two figures, one being pulled by the wrist, the whiner, and a brunette who looked annoyed out of their wits. A car raced passed and shone a quick light on them.   

“Just retrace your steps,” the brunette told them, their eyes stuck on the ground as they seemed to be searching for something. Another car passed by and their lights flashed across their faces once again. The outfit of the man trudging behind made a spark light in your brain. “Sweets boy!” you breathed out, unclasping your hands and looking both ways across the street. They had yet to notice you, both talking to one another quickly and fast. They were quickly moving away from you, and a car was zipping down, meaning you couldn’t run across until it passed.

“Hey! Hey wait! I found your uhm- your glasses!” you called across the road. But obviously, they still weren't paying attention as they briskly continued down the opposite way from you. The car you were waiting on finally passed and you bounded across the road, your eyes caught on the now-distant figures. How could they walk so fast so quickly? Were they that worried about these little prop glasses that you wore? You took a deep breath, gosh you did not want to have to run in the cold, but alas… a good samaritan would under such circumstances. 

You were off, one foot in front of the other as you took a racing- okay, jogging -start down the street. Your steps must have alerted the brunette, who turned his head fast, cocking it and seeming to grow tense. He seemed to relax once you waved at them and he turned back around; he must have thought you weren’t waving to them, but instead to a friend in front of them he must not have seen. The sweets boy, the one you were ever so kindly helping, didn't turn or even care to look who was behind them. His head was down, and he seemed to still be whining.

You made quick work to get to them, reaching out to tug on the boy’s cape-like jacket. You bent your knees and took a deep breath.

“Hey! Sweets boy- Jesus, why are you both so fast,” you wheezed, coughing out the cold air from your lungs. The man you held onto turned fast, the brunette more lazily until he noticed the glasses perched atop your nose.

“Where did you get those?” he asked, striding forward to snatch them off your face. You held up a hand and took a breath.

“You dropped them at the convenience store, I was trying to find them to return em to ya!” you breathed out. a small laugh taking catch in your throat as you looked up at the man you had chased down all night. The cold air that was once your laugh traveled up and past his face into the night sky, and as soon as you could get a clear look at his face, you breathed back in.

Lady luck is truly on my side.

The man was beautiful, a smile seemed always imprinted on his lips, his green eyes looking down at you with an amusement glint. His arms were on his hips as if admiring your work to find them. You could tell his arms were lean and strong. You felt that one bottle of beer finally gave you one last push of courage; one sip got you to stay and sit at that parking stop, the next to play detective and find the missing owner of the glasses, and the last sip still working its way through your veins gave you the words you confidently spoke to your news year fated stranger, “I played a pretty good detective to find ya, if I had known you were so pretty I would have worked harder!” your cheeks flushed a faint pink, maybe from the run or the beer, or you know, the boldness that just overtook you. 

The brunette behind him let out a low whistle as he folded the glasses up and placed them in a pocket of his trenchcoat, and the green-eyed man let out a joyful laugh that just fit him, his entire being encapsulated into one sound.

“My my, if you are a detective like me and Dazai here then you should join us at our party!” His grin grew even wider at his words. You could see his white canines in his smile and you felt your stomach flip. You shook the flirtatious thoughts out of your head, had he invited you to an office party? Not just any office party, a detective office party? “Wait I was just kidding-” the man took your arm and linked it with his. And you could hear the brunette- Dazai -snicker at the action.

“Nonsense! This was the sharpest detective work I have seen!” He exclaimed. His joyful step infested you, and soon you were walking arm and arm with newfound vigor as the man behind you watched and seemed to hold back his laughter.

You walked together in the cold air, sharing pleasantries and getting to know one another. His arm never untangling itself from yours. Dazai chimed in here and there to explain how the party was going and where it was. As you turned the corner, you saw the festive lights of a cafe beaming, the sign on it flipped closed, but the people inside were obviously granted special access. You tripped slightly as you took in the sight, people all smiling and sharing drinks, arms wrapped around one another as they laughed in the new year. Ranpo made sure you didn’t fall, his green eyes turning to you.

“You’ll fit right in! And you can share with us your story!” you could already tell you would have a new crush for the New Year. Dazai walked ahead, his shoulders pushed back and his hands in his pockets, while Ranpo pulled you along, smiling and chatting with joy as he listed off the names and appearances of all his co-workers as if you would remember it once you got inside. 

Despite the December cold, you felt so warm, as if you were bundled in the softest and warmest sweater. The stars in the sky twinkled as if enjoying the puppy love romance beginning to blossom, but you were unaware of them because your north star was right in front of you, leading you to new friends and new stories. All your New Year's wishes seem to come true in an instant.

#bsd x you #bsd #bungostraydogs #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs fanfic #ranpo x reader #ranpo edogawa #ranpo x y/n #bsd ranpo #ranpo x you #bungou stray dogs ranpo

[duskspring]

Cooking Together - Terzo/Omega

Domestic December - Day 1

Summary: Terzo and Omega share a quiet evening together

Content (do let me know if I forgot anything!): Google translate Italian as per fandom tradition, fluff, sexually suggestive flirting

Word count: ~1.5k

Omega was at his lover’s door at 6pm sharp, as was agreed upon. He’d been looking forward to being with him all day and finally Terzo would be all his.

He didn’t knock when he walked in, something that felt unlike him, but the former Papa had told him plenty of times that he was always welcome no matter what and that knocking was ‘a bother he shouldn’t have to waste his energy on’.

As soon as the door opened, Omega was greeted with a mouthwatering blend of smells. He picked up on meat, spices and something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“In here, amore.” Terzo called out to him from the kitchen.

Omega hurriedly took his shoes off, still taking the time to put them away neatly, before speed walking his way to the kitchen.

An old Italian vinyl record was playing slow music, the ghoul automatically swaying his hips as he walked up behind his partner and wrapped his arms around his waist.

Terzo immediately leaned back against him, relishing in the warm comfort of the embrace. He swayed his hips in time with Omega’s, the carrots he’d been cutting completely forgotten.

Omega reached his hand over to get Terzo to put his knife down, before spinning the short man around in his arms. The two now swayed face to face.

“How has your day been?” He asks with a quickly reciprocated smile.

“I was mostly looking forward to just this.” Terzo eagerly got up on the tips of his toes. It was the telltale sign that he wanted a kiss, though even at the extended height he couldn’t reach Omega’s lips unless the ghoul bend down.

Of course he instantly did so, the two kissing softly but with no less passion.

All too soon Terzo reluctantly pulled away, a playfulness in his voice when he said, “You’re gonna make dinner catch fire.” He took a step back after one last peck, making sure nothing was on the stove longer than it should’ve been.

“Any way I can help out?” Omega asked, already rolling up his sleeves.

“Could you continue cutting those carrots for me please, caro?”

“Anything for you.” The ghoul quickly got to work. He knew his way around the kitchen quite well, most of that skill taught to him by Terzo himself. It was always something they’d shared.

“But what about your day?” Papa asked.

“Apart from looking forward to this,” The two glanced and smiled at each other simultaneously, “Mostly helping Phantom get set up.”

“Ah, yes. The insetto più recente. How’s he adjusting?”

“Quite well. Everyone has been very receptive to him. Even Dewdrop, surprisingly.”

“He was always the troublemaker.” Terzo reminisced.

“It seems he can keep using the same guitar as Aether, so that saves everyone time and energy. And he’s finally getting to know his way around The Ministry.”

“So no more getting woken up at 4 because he’s lost and stumbling into every room?”

“I told you I’d take care of it.” Omega smirked.

“And you did! You always take such good care of me, cuore mio.” Terzo had once again wandered away from the stove and towards his boyfriend.

He couldn’t help it. Those full 6 hours they hadn’t seen each other since lunch had been unbearable. At least if you ignore Omega stopping by his office a few hours after that, but still!

The ghoul quickly cut the final part of the last carrot before carefully putting the knife down and turning 90 degrees.

Terzo wore his signature smirk as he grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and pulled him in closer while getting on his toes again.

Omega didn’t immediately lean down this time, “We’re never gonna eat at this rate.” He still couldn’t help but smile.

“I have something other than food in mind.”

Omega was unable to stop the growl that left him. He wanted so badly to give in. To lift his partner into his arms and off to bed. But even the allure couldn’t erase his hunger, “Sweetheart-“

“You don’t?” Terzo kept pushing it, putting his hand onto Omega’s crotch to find the proof that indeed he wanted this as well.

The ghoul took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, “Dinner.”

Papa removed his hand, but otherwise stayed put. The two stared into each other’s eyes intently.

Suddenly Omega had an idea, “What would Primo say if he saw you burn dinner?”

Instantly Terzo pulled away, “Aaaaahhh, amore, why’d you have to bring him into this?” He shook his arms around like a child throwing a tantrum, trying and failing to not imagine the old man’s disapproving face.

His boyfriend let out a fond belly laugh, reaching over to the cutting board of carrots and holding it out for Terzo to use, “Dinner.” He repeated with a victorious smirk.

Terzo begrudgingly took the board, only to immediately put it down again, “Let’s first find out if everything is not already ruined.” He grabbed a spoon, stirring the sauce he’d been putting together a few times before lifting it up and turning to Omega.

Without needing instruction, the ghoul stepped closer and tried a taste.

For a sauce with such a straightforward texture there was a big punch of flavor in there. Something sweet, yet a little sour on the aftertaste.

“Immaculate.” He rated.

“I know, but what’d you think of the sauce?”

Omega took another deep breath to will himself to not get distracted from cooking again. It was only when he saw Terzo’s shit eating grin that he made a quick move to spank his ass.

“Dinner.” He said for the third time.

Terzo rolled his eyes playfully, “You’re no fun.”

While Terzo continued his cooking, Omega set out the plates and cutlery they’d need. He liked displaying it all neatly, it made even simple dinners feel like an event. He also made sure to get two glasses and a nice bottle of wine for them to indulge in.

After all of that he sat himself at the table, content to silently watch his partner cook for a bit longer, his head bobbing along to the music that still played.

“Omega, guess what.” Terzo said after a little bit.

“What?”

He turned around, face serious and the pan he’d been using to cook the meat in his hand, “Dinner.” He impersonated his partner.

He’d meant for it to be a tease, but all the reaction he got was that same loving stare and smile. He couldn’t resist a smile of his own.

Omega got up again to help put down all the bowls and everything on the table. Once that was done he walked around to Terzo’s side and kindly pulled his chair out for him.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Papa joked as Omega also filled up his wineglass for him, “Thank you, amore.” He said genuinely.

The table they sat at wasn’t too big. Though they had easy access to huge dining tables whenever they wanted, when the two officially moved in together Terzo had insisted on a table that would allow for just them. They sat across from each other, both staring into the other’s eyes. They had enough leg room underneath, but could so easily reach out and touch.

“I had planned multiple courses, but I found I didn’t have the time.” Terzo seemed legitimately a bit disappointed in himself.

“This is more than enough,” Omega held his hand, “I’d eat take out for the rest of my life if it meant being with you.”

“Enough talking,” Terzo still didn’t stop smiling as he picked up his fork with his free hand and stabbed a cut of meat onto it, holding it out for his partner, “Open up.”

He obediently did as told, allowing Papa to feed him his first bite. It was nothing short of spectacular, as was to be expected.

Omega closed his eyes and moaned a bit at the taste, perhaps just to tease a little bit.

“It’s wonderful, as always,” He said, his fork picking up a slice of carrot in return, “Open.” He made sure to lower his voice a bit, the command similar to one he’d give in the bedroom.

Terzo visibly shivered at it, and spoke as soon as he’d swallowed the food, “I still put a lot of work into this meal, caro. Stop making me want to dismiss it.”

“Says you.” Omega countered.

They kept going back and forth, one bite after another. Even with the one course, it took them nearly as long to eat it all as they would’ve had it been three courses. But time didn’t matter here. Only the two of them.

“So,” Omega started before quickly downing the last bit of his wine, “what’s for dessert?”

Terzo hid his smirk by wiping his mouth on a napkin for a second. But when he uncovered his face there were no pretences, “Take a wild guess.”

[My Main Masterlist | Domestic December Masterlist]

#did I have any clue what they were eating? clearly not. could I have easily thought of something..? perhaps #domestic December #the band ghost fic #papa iii #omega ghoul #terzomega #the band ghost #papa emeritus the third #nameless ghouls #ghost fanfiction #ghost bc

[wordstome]

hi, new könig fan here 🙃(i was able to delay the brainrot only for so long and now he has bewitched me body and soul) so...i've stumbled upon you and went through your whole königcore tag and *chef's kiss*, yes to all of that 😌(i'm sure as hell that i'll dive into your works for sure💓) although what i've really barged in here for is to offer a few headcanons that my brain has been cooking (and you can choose not to post them if they are not your cup of tea lmao): -deployed!könig (since we're in december let's set it in this month) going back to rural austria to his family and bringing his gf with him, he'll probably even dress up as a krampus and partake in the krampuslaufen cause he's such a cryptid (also mask>>> and stalking/chasing people around, scaring the hell out of them>>>) -and to connect to this one a bit, cause food is my love language and this 6'10'' man has to like function, right? right. so he's deployed and he can 'take it easy' and cheat a bit (specially since it's the christmas holidays), so his abs are not as defined as they were 2/3 weeks ago and he might be getting soft here and there...he'd probably get self-conscious a bit and hide/avoid close contact with his gf until the issue get talked between them and she has to reassures him and all (sorry i'm exceptionally soft for him, it will happen again) and that was it, hope you have a great day ✨

Welcome to the König fandom! We're clinically insane <3 I'm glad you're here and thank you for checking my stuff out 🥺

I THINK ABOUT DEPLOYED KÖNIG ALL THE TIME! He would 100% partake in krampuslaufen (I saw a video recently of a parade in Salzburg, it looks like so much fun ;;), probably chases his s/o around a bit when he's in costume (he 100% uses tactical gear for it)

König strikes me as a guy who takes great personal pride in his ability to keep things tight, which is why I like it so much when he's portrayed a bit thicker and his s/o adores him. I love the idea of someone feeding him as much good food as he can handle (and he can handle a lot, that big ass boy) and still doting on him even when he feels insecure.

#thank you anon i will!! #könig #König x reader #König x you #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #answered

[minicoffee00]

Up and Coming Part 2

Again so I can actually organise my life, because being a uni student and having a job is harder than I thought… I now have a ROUGH schedule for the next few weeks of when something may be uploaded.

Get your diaries ready folks!

Also please let me know in the comments if you guys like other fandoms and what that reach is.

Right now I’m heavily hyper fixated on the Formula 1, it’s always been a part of my life because of my dad, and I was obsessed when I was younger then throughout covid when they streamed and media was funny, and I was alone and grasping for any type of realism, it was all I would watch aswell as Marvel and StarWars. And now it has resurfaced … so if you guys enjoy any other fandoms and you’d want me to write for them I’d be more than happy too!

TBP / too be posted

Fast Changes Part 7 Azriel x Reader

Plot: You are Feyre’s younger twin and get sent into the Cauldron with your sisters coming out as high fae. What happens on this journey

TBP: 13/11/23

The one that got away Part 2 Rhysand x Reader x ?

Plot: you are the closest thing Rhysand has to a mate before he is taken away by Amarantha, what happens when you haven’t seen the man you adore and love in 50 years to come back claiming he has found his mate and he wants nothing more to do with you.

TBP: 14/11/23

You’re killing me Part 2 Morrigan x Reader

Plot: Morrigan finds her mate, finally after years of not being out to her family and refuses to come out to her family still. And her mate becomes insecure thinking she doesn’t think she’s worthy of the Morrigan.

TBP: 16/11/23

I’m just here as a distraction right? Part 2 Lucien x Reader

Plot: After Lucien finds out Elain is his mate, he spends the first year pining after her. After seeing her getting closer to Azriel and her found family in the Night Court, he starts to have feelings for a High Fae Girl who stumbled in Jurian, Vassa and Lucien’s home.

TBP: 17/11/23

You never saw me Nesta x Sister Reader

Plot: you are the second youngest Archeron sister in the family and get fed up with the way that Nesta and Elain did nothing to help. So you ended up getting a job as a mercenary and became a hollow shell of your former self. You provide for Feyre and Feyre alone, supplying her with food and better weapons. What happens when you find she has been taken to the fae realm?

TBP: 17/11/23

Baking and Shaking Elain x f! reader

Plot: You find some peace in Elain, and slowly start to fall for her and somehow you also manage to woo the soft girl … her fav activity to do with you is bake as it’s one of the only places SHE has the upper hand and can tease you, but you won’t fold!

TBP: 18/11/23

Fuck Buddies Hellion x Reader

Plot: every year, your High Lord of the day court chooses a young female to have as his companion in hopes he will find his mate.

TBP: 20/11/23

Look what you made me do Part 3 Eris x Reader

Plot: Eris is your mate, and when you’ve tried your hardest of a long week to see himself and Nesta dancing together, you run away.

20/11/23

Winter Solstice Kallias x Reader

Plot: we’ve heard of winter solstice in the Night Court but just imagine Winter Solstice in the court of eternal winter with your love

21/11/23

Massive break until the first of December for my 24 days of Christmas!

Taglist:

@cat-or-kitten

@sstrohma

@horneybeach1

@its-sam-allgood

@starryhiraeth

@xcastawayherosx

@glitterypirateduck

@azriels-mate123

@mavropouloupanagiota

@chasing-autumns-chill

@justdreamstars

#acotar #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #a court of mist and fury #acowar #acosf #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #high lord eris #eris vanserra #eris x reader #rhysand x reader #high lord rhysand #hellion #hellion x reader #nesta archeron #elain archeron #archeron sisters #cassian acotar

[quaranmine]

10 Years of Posting Fanfic: A Retrospective

(If you only care about reading my writing from when I was 12, skip to the cut)

I've always enjoyed reading as a kid. I was the kid in class who was reading at a high school level in intermediate school, and the kid who had 8 library books on her desk at a time. Therefore it is no surprise that I quickly realized that I enjoyed writing a lot too.

This post cannot be a look into when I started writing fanfiction though, because frankly I don't remember. Instead, all I have to go off of is the publishing date on my old fanfiction.net profile: December 15, 2013. I'm a little too young for the heyday of Live Journal and other fanfic sites, so ff.net was my first introduction to fanfiction. I also used to use Wattpad now and then, but I never posted anything there. I preferred ff.net, and did not make an AO3 account until 2016.

In middle school and intermediate school, if you asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I'd tell you I wanted to be a novelist. Of course my actual career went a different direction--I'm now an environmental outreach specialist. But the great news about writing is that it can be done at any time!

Fanfiction.net was also my introduction into the world of fanfic, back when I stumbled onto some Jayfeather Warrior Cats fanfic from a random google search. It took me entirely by suprise to find out that I could actually read more stories about my favorite characters! It was like stumbling into a gold mine. I still remember how thrilled I was. I was instantly hooked, despite being more than a little traumatized by instantly finding a "lemon" and reading about cat sex at probably 11 or 12 years old. Somehow, that did not stop me. I continued to avoid lemons, and developed a huge taste for angst, whump, and hurt/comfort stories. In retrospect, I'm not sure my mom would have viewed reading about torture or suicidal characters as particularly better than smut, but oh well. She never knew.

Throughout middle school and early high school, I was constantly writing. In middle school I had a notebook and used to hand write fanfics and original stories inside. I had two friends who also liked writing, and together we'd spend time developing and editing each other's stories. It's during this time I posted my first stories on FF.net. In high school, my school gave every student a chromebook laptop, and I started writing fanfic in Google Docs on that. I was fearless and had no problems writing angsty anime fanfic in class, on a school-monitored device.

I stopped writing fanfic somewhere in 10th grade, though I never stopped reading it. I stopped writing it primarily because I spent a lot of time writing other things. I was taking college classes. I doing competitive essay writing (I medalled at state) and competitive literary criticism. I was doing art competitions. In 12th grade, I had a job reporting school news to my local newspaper. I wrote op-eds about the environment and dutifully recorded hours of school board meetings to summarize. Then, I was properly off to college, and despite the pandemic hitting a year later I had classes to take online and a part time job outdoors. I had 60 page mock-environmental risk assessments to write. I was too busy to write fiction.

The MCYT fandom is what brought back my desire to write. The creativity of this fandom is so astounding, and I'm grateful all the time that I get to see the things everybody creates. Back in 2021, I no longer felt like I just wanted to read. I felt restless again, so I started writing a DSMP story about clingyduo at the disc war finale. I scrapped this, but it set things into motion again. In the summer of 2021 I posted my first two fanfics in years. I received such good feedback. By kudos, NWNF is my most popular fic on the site, and The Babysitting Game is still 4th most popular. I'm super grateful for that, and I'm grateful for everybody here who reads my stories. I still can't really comprehend that I post things that people actually read now. I save so many of your comments to keep for later.

I'll stop reviewing my history of writing here. You guys know the rest. I wrote HC, Evo, ESMP, and Life series oneshots. I wrote my first long fic, and then smashed that record by writing another longer one that I'm less than two chapters away from finishing. It's been a huge amount of fun and the improvements I've made in two years of active writing is super encouraging.

If I've made this much progress in 10 years, who's to say what I could do in 10 more years? I really look forward to it.

Anyway, the sappy stuff aside, who wants to read the story I wrote when I was 12? I'll post it below the cut in its entirety, no matter how much psychic damage it dealt me. It's Doctor Who, because of course it is. It always goes back to Doctor Who with me :)

From the TARDIS Files--A One-Shot Book

by: crazykatz430 <- I used to go by this everywhere

Description: This is a book of drabbles and one shots-nothing long will be found here, and it will not be updated frequently. Chapters will often have more than one short story in it. Rated T because I'm paranoid, don't know about what I'll end up writing in future chapters. All that said, enjoy! EDIT: CANCELLED

Published: 2013-12-15

Words: 1196

Rated: Fiction T - Language: English - Genre: Humor/Adventure -

Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara O. - Reviews: 4 - Follows: 1

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

A/N: Okay, so this is a collection of four short (I mean SHORT) oneshots I wrote, most of them just drabbles. So far, this will be just a fic to update when I write more short oneshots in the freewrites on my English Class.

Disclaimer: I don't own DW but if I did… <- oh the early days back when we were all sticking disclaimers on things but not knowing why

There will be a linbreak for new oneshots, and a cat symbol (crazyKATZ430..it's in the name) for the time skips or point of view changes..

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Without further ado, I present: Geronimo , Uploaded , The Forgotten , and Cemetery Nightmares .

Geronimo

Set: The Wedding of River Song

I don't know what to say. All my secrets, fears and enemies, they've all caught up to me. I've run too far, run for too long.

The prophecy states that silence will fall when the question is asked. The first question, the oldest and most important question. I do not know what the question is nor do I want to find out, for the silence that falls will be the silence of my death.

I do not want to do die here, at Lake Silencio, Utah, but it is a fixed point. It will always happen no matter how far or long I run from it. I don't want to die alone… don't want to make my love do it.

I have made a plan, one to hopefully save my life and the earth. Everyone will think I am dead, but it will be safer. They'll be safer from me.

Geronimo!

Now I know what to say, the same thing I've always said when adventure and danger and the unknown ensued…

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Uploaded

Set: The wi-fi's first victim ;

"Where am I?" I whispered, scared. "Hello?"

I looked around myself, studying the surroundings. It was all strange to me, I'd n idea where I was.

I felt panic rising in my chest. "I don't know where I am!" I shrieked, becoming ever more terrified. "Somebody, please, help me! Where am I, I don't know where I am!"

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

I raced around the room looking for a way out of what appeared to be someone's bedroom. I gave a cry when I couldn't get out and I subconsciously returned to the computer. "Help me!" I screamed infrustration and fear, my heart racing as panic took over my body. "I don't know where I am!"

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The wi-fi had taken its first victim.

The uploading had begun.

The Forgotten

Set: hmm… can't remember. Strange.

I was alone in a cold, dark room, no other living thing in sight.

I can't remember what I've forgotten. But if I can't remember what I've forgotten, then how do I know I forgot something?

But I wasn't alone.

How did I know that? There was nothing visible..yet I felt there was another creature in the room.

Sudden pure, unexplainable terror washed over me. I yanked the sleeve of my shirt down and stared at the underside of my arm. One fresh, black tally mark marred my skin.

The panic reached its heighth and I dropped into a defensive postureautomatically. I didn't know why, it felt like I was forgetting something… I was confused and terrified.

A second crisp tally mark appeared on my arm, closely followed by three more. A full set. But why?

Fifteen or more sets of five tally marks were tattooed on my arm.

Wordlessly I pulled down my right sleeve. What I saw there cause me to scream in fright and drop to the ground.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Doctor who?

Silence will fall when the question is asked. The first question, the oldest question…

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Cemetery Nightmares

Set: New York City, 1950 (set in New York City; however, the

character is British)

The statue had moved. It had really, properly moved!

Eagerly, I lifted my camera to take a picture. "Moving Statues in City Cemetery"? Sounded like a story to me! My editor always thought my stories were rubbish, but I begged to differ. Maybe he's let me print something with proof.

Curiosity killed the cat. This statue could be dangerous, what did I know of it? I smiled as I recalled the second part to the phrase. But satisfaction brought it back. Making up my mind, I held up the camera and clicked a picture.

I waited for it to move again, but it did not. Was it my eyes? No, I'd had two cups of heavily caffeinated tea this morning, you don't start seeing things untill the third day without sleep, I still had a day to go.

I huffed and sighed, closing my eyes. Why must good stories always slip way like this? Or was I just being too impatient?

Either way, I got a shock from when I reopened my eyes. The same stone figure, who seemed to be an angel statue, had moved again, closer to me. I didn't know if I should be happy for more evidence or scared because the hand seemed to be seemed to be reaching out to me…

I blinked again. A small cry escaped my lips as I noted it was closer. Was it all just some sick game? I was the only one in the cemetery though so that option was out of the question. Either way, the expression on the face of the angel now was frightening me. I decided it was best to leave.

I turned to walk back to my car, but on a whim turned to look back again. The statue had moved again, probably 15 meters in a few seconds! I began to tremble. It was like straight out of a horror movie! I just wanted to get away, to get home and out of this creepy place!

Then I made the mistake, my fatal mistake. My eyes began to burn and I blinked, a simple movement. But when I reopened my eyes I stood in a place far more different from where I'd been.

I was somewhere else! It was impossible, the city, cemetery and creepy angel statue were gone too! But where was I? I set out to find someone about what had turned into a nightmare for me. A cemetery nightmare.

The image of an angel becomes an angel.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

One bright red vintage camera lay on the ground, on button switched. The last picture it had taken displayed out from the screen. A seemly harmless picture of an angel statue, taken a minute before the camera's owner was whisked away.

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

A/N: There you go, three short oneshots with a fourth that's twice the size of the others! PLease remember to review and say if it was good or not, and have a wonderful day… now that I've given you some stories of dying people. ( Geronimo had no dying but it was pretty intense if I do say so.) And please forgive me, I'm not British so I may tend to overdo some things…

(narrarator voice: she did not, in fact, ever upload another chapter)

Anyway, hope you enjoyed, as soon as I type it up, another's on its way!

#WOOO HOOOO #idk how to tag this #quara fanfic #fanfiction #doctor who

[meraki-yao]

This is gonna be really personal, and really venty and probably really selfish, and I’m most likely gonna delete it in the morning, but I feel like this is the only place I can talk about it, so I’m just gonna shout this into the void. If you’re not in a good space either, please stop reading and keep scrolling.

I’m not in a good place in my life right now. Truth be told my mental health has been shit since I was 7, but this is the worst I’ve ever been. Long story short, I was pressured into a college major that I didn’t want by family, and I thought I could pull through the four years of school, but it’s the first semester of the second year and I can’t handle it. I do not suit this major, nor do I find any purpose or joy in trying to deal with it. I hate it, I struggle with, yet it consumes all the time in my life. It’s been like this since the start of college, and it’s just getting worse. It doesn’t help that adults around me keep telling me how good this major is as a career and how I need to start looking for internships. It’s gotten to the point where I’m mentally and physically unhealthy, and I skipped school for the entirety of October without anyone but my sister knowing because classes gave me panic attacks. My parents aren’t people I can talk to about this because 1, they invalidate mental health issues as my fault for not trying hard enough because engineering and science came easy to them 2, they’re the ones who put me in this position in the first place. My sister listens but I help her more than she knows how to help me, and my friends are all busy with their own stuff.

I am seeking professional help on my own, I have bimonthly counselling which helps, and I recently started taking prescribed antidepressants. But for me to find a psychiatrist for a diagnosis on my life long issues and more meds, or for me to start looking into switching a major (which is a fucking arduous process where I am, fuck), I need to wait till I’m done with my exams which will be the last two weeks of December

So for the following month, I’m stuck, and fucked.

RWRB saved me in a way. I accidentally stumbled upon the trailer when it came out and suddenly I had a source of joy, a reason to keep going and keep looking forward to the next day. RWRB made me the happiest I’ve been since January of 2022. I can’t explain why, maybe it’s how I relate to Henry, maybe it’s how firstprince’s relationship is so beautiful, maybe it’s how it’s a rom com, I don’t know. But I have a couple of movies/shows that make a huge impact on my life, and RWRB is one of them. Waking up to something new, waking up happy with something to look forward to felt so good after so long of wanting time to just pass by me. I’ve haven’t watched a movie on repeat since I was 6 and repeating the original Lion King. I started this account because I had so many thoughts about the movie and I wanted to share them.

And I know it’s not the healthiest to hook all of my sanity onto a fandom/movie. But I’m not in a space where I can deal with my actual problems directly right now. And I do have other things in my real life that make me feel a bit better, but RWRB really has been the most effective/impactful one right now.

This is also the first time since Infinity War in 2019 were I followed a movie’s promo and release rather than discover it when all is said and done. And it happened to coincide with the strikes. Which again I’m supportive of and proud of the agreements they achieved, but the timing of everything just makes me so upset.

I thought that Prime would keep it going for a bit, especially after the strike resolved. And right now I’m not saying they’re definitively not doing anything. We don’t know that.

But I thought they would release a new deleted scene on 18th since that’s the date the last two deleted scenes were released, and it was the 100th day since release. When that didn’t happen, I thought they would release it on Thanksgiving. I lost sleep over waiting for it. But that didn’t happen either.

I got an anon ask who kindly but objectively explained the situation on the business side. And after reading and answering those asks…

I felt really fucking bad.

I kinda just lied down, panting and trembling.

It kinda felt like drug addiction withdrawal. Which is a morbid thing to compare it to, because if it weren’t for my myriad of problems this would just be a hyperfixation, but withdrawal is genuinely the only way I can explain my reaction (but to clarify I never actually did drugs)

And the following days I just had this ache and weight in my chest.

I think the reason my reaction is visceral is because RWRB is really my only, singular source of unbridled happiness right now. It’s literally the only thing I’m trying to hold on and stay afloat for, the reason I wake up in the morning. I thought Prime would keep going for a while with a relatively fixed monthly schedule of something new, but that broke off.

And that’s not to say that the fandom isn’t included in my RWRB happiness. I still fucking love the fanart and fanfics I come across.

But the jump from August and September to now, and my worsening issues because of school, it just hits harder.

I’m kind of at a lost right now. I’m getting worse in my own life with exams that I’ll definitely straight up fail (and I used to be a star student: I’ve needed academic validation my whole life) on the horizon, and I feel like I’m losing the only thing I held on to for the past couple of months.

I’m fucked and I don’t know what to do.  

#personal

[pappydaddy]

my little girl (j.h.)

a/n: this is really short, i am so sorry. hopefully it's good, i was desensitizing myself to the song again (a yearly occurrence bc i bawl like a baby when i hear it). also, i aged the reader up to be an older teen starting university. i felt like it would make a better plotline, but the reader has a canonically late-year birthday (december) so she is seventeen. hope you don't mind lovely!

ps, i am trying a new format. we'll see if i like it...

fandom: stranger things | pairing: jim hopper x fem!teen!daughter!reader (father/daughter)

requested by the lovely @sunnysidesadie (hope you enjoy it💛!)

synopsis: visiting her old cabin when she misses her dad is normal for y/n. what isn't is her supposedly dead dad suddenly showing up. | based on this song by tim mcgraw (i grew up on country music, don't judge me) that always makes me cry so... | au where vecna stuff happens at another time

taglist: @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @badass-yn | @lexi-2004 | @i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo | *line through you user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: grief mentioned | (believed to be) dead father | emotional? | not being able to trust things

navigation | masterlist | taglist sign-up

- not my gif -

Standing in the ruins of her father’s cabin, Y/N’s chest ached. She often came here, ever since that day last summer. It looked the exact same as it did that night - a shell of a once lively house. Even if this wasn’t the home he raised her in, it was the cabin they made a home in such a short period of time. The Mind Flayer had ruined it, only the walls left standing. Everything else smashed and broken, even possession. 

  The sting of tears made Y/N’s eyes feel like they were burning out of her head. The Mind Flayer took her home, but the Russians took her father. In their greed to become the most feared country, they ripped the one thing Y/N loved the most from her. The one thing that she had in her life that was constant was gone. Sure, Jim Hopper was battling his demons, drinking, a bit aggressive in his parenting tactics, and a horrible communicator, but he was her father. He loved her with every fibre of his being. 

  Swallowing thickly, she spied a broken picture frame sticking out of the ruins, most likely from the wind pushing it around overtime. Slowly walking towards it, Y/N felt the old floor shifting under her. Soon, it wasn’t going to be safe to stand here. She feared that day. The bit of cabin was the only thing she had left of her father. He had sold their home when they had to protect El. Their prized possessions and keepsakes were either damaged or pillaged by teens who stumbled upon the empty cabin before they could finish off the Mind Flayer. 

  Bending down, she grabbed the picture, wiping off the dirt. It was her father and her. She was six, in a horribly itchy red and green dress. It was her elementary school Christmas Recital. She had on bright tights and a pair of shiny black shoes. Her grandmother had helped him dress her that time. Usually, for this recital, he would have put her in a green dress with her pink ballet tights. After that year, he had stuck to the same colour palette. Smiling down fondly at the picture, she couldn’t help but let a tear slip. “I miss you. So much,” She whispered, eyes squeezed closed. “I think you’d be proud of me, Dad,” She swallowed the hard ball that was forming in her throat, trying to ignore how her heart felt like it was being ripped in half. “I’m taking on this whole world. Just like you always told me to.” 

  Y/N stood there, looking in her full length mirror. It was her first day of senior year, it had to be perfect. Her shaking hands brushed over her outfit for the sixth time in that minute. Humming, she shuffled to the side, inspecting the outfit she had picked out last night for any flaw, turning up with nothing. However, she couldn’t find anything great about the outfit either. Light blue coloured mom jeans (brand new so fitting perfectly), converse, and a dark green mock neck sweater. There was nothing bad but nothing particularly amazing about the outfit. “Y/N, hurry up and eat your breakfast before you run out the door saying you’re too busy to eat.” Her dad told her, his voice nearing her partially open door. 

  “Coming.” She told him, but she didn’t move from her spot in front of the mirror. In the reflection, she saw her door being pushed open and her father appeared, clad in his brown uniform, his had noticeably missing. 

  “Y/N, I told you already, your outfit looks fine. I want you to eat before you leave,” He reminded her. Despite his gruff and aggressive appearance, her father’s words were spoken with a sense of softness. She sighed, slumping her shoulders as she turned away from the mirror. His brown eyes watched her. He was dense with the whole girl dad thing. It wasn’t easy trying to understand them, but he tried. Which is why he stepped into the room further, pushing the door closed behind him. “What’s going on? It’s gotta be more than worrying about your outfit.” 

  He sat on her bed seconds before she joined him. “I don’t know. My life is changing, should I really be wearing the same clothes I wear every first day?” 

  “What are you talking about,” He questioned, brows furrowed as he looked at her outfit. “Those pants and the shirt are all new. You’ve never worn them before.” She laughed at this, which wasn’t his intention, but he couldn’t help but smile and feel his heart melting. 

  “Not the clothes, but the style. I’m graduating, my life is completely flipped upside down after this year, but here I am dressing the exact same way and doing my hair the exact same way, going to the exact same school to hang out with the exact same people,” She muttered, feeling stupid about her worries. “I don’t know,” She shrugged. “It’s scary and I don’t think I am ready for it.” She confessed, her eyes finally looking up at her. The same exact eyes looked back at her. Everybody said that she had her father’s eyes. 

  Her father sighed in understanding, smiling sadly down at her. “If anyone isn’t ready for you to graduate, it’s me. I mean, one second I am dropping you off at kindergarten then all of a sudden, you’re sixteen getting ready for your senior year,” He informed her, nudging her shoulder with his arm, making her laugh. She hated being so much younger than her classmates, but she was starting senior year as a sixteen year old, turning seventeen in December. He had to fight the sadness filling him, knowing his daughter is growing up, because she needed him to be her rock. She needed him to be her cheerleader. “Never in my mind did I ever think you weren’t ready. You are going to take on this whole wide world, chasing your dreams,” He suddenly turned serious. “And I will be here, cheering you on because you’re always going to be my little girl. And just know, as long as you know the road that takes you home again, I will be here for you.” 

  “Just the road? That’s the only way you’ll be there for me?” She asked. Hopper looked at her, ready to get mad that she took it like he wasn’t going to be there for her, but that crooked little smile played on her lips - the same crooked little smile she wore when she was a kid whenever she did anything she wasn’t supposed to. Instantly, his anger and his naturally icy heart was melting, just like it always did and just like it always will. 

  “Real smart, you little ass,” He laughed, making her join in on the laughter. “Now, I still want you to eat, but I would rather you not drive like a maniac trying to get to school in time so I will put a few more snacks on the counter for you to stuff in your bag on your way out. I’ll add some change to it so you can get a drink at lunch,” He informed her as he stood up, walking out the door. “Have a great day, Pumpkin. I love you. So much.” He told her, he couldn’t put how much he loved her into words - he wasn’t good at emotions and sappy stuff, but he was confident she was sure how much he loved her, even if she didn’t realise he loved her more than anything. 

  “I love you more.” She said back and he was instantly reminded of everytime she said that exact thing to him in the past. From the time she could speak to that moment. For a second, he wanted her to be that toothless seven year old cuddling her teddy bear as he tucked her in again. 

  “I hope you would be proud of me,” She added in as her eyes slowly blinked open. “I am kinda taking on the world by myself at the moment-” 

  “And I’m sure you’re taking the world by storm despite that.” A voice scared her, making her whirl around, the picture frame clutched to her chest as her heart tried to run out of her chest. There he stood. Shaved head, bruises, and a crooked smile - the same one she wore when she got in trouble. 

  “Dad?” She breathed out, eyes wide. Was it a ghost? Was it her mind playing horrible tricks? What a cruel joke the universe was playing on her if the man standing before her in clothes that were obviously not his was all her imagination. Tentatively, she stepped towards him as he stood on the ground, through the damaged front door that was nearly off its hinges completely.

  The man (or product of her grief) nodded. “It’s me, Pumpkin. For real.” He reassured her. He knew she was reluctant, not wanting to get her hopes up. The reality of the Upside Down has put them through hell and back. It was hard to trust anything the universe gave them. Win the lottery? Are they sure it wasn’t just a cruel trick the Upside Down conceived to put them through more hell? Supposedly dead father standing before you? Was Y/N sure it wasn’t secretly some sort of shape shifting creature set to destroy El? 

  She walked a few more steps, finally reaching the door frame. Hopper stayed in one spot, but now Y/N could see the people gathered off to the side, giving the father and daughter space. Joyce and Murray stood in the treeline, giving Y/N nods of reassurance. “Dad!” She broke into a smile, her heart delighted. She was too overcome with happiness to even think about questioning how he was standing there if he was dead. 

  The photo slipped from her grasp as she ran from the doorway, all the way down the rickety old steps. Arms out, she nearly tackled her father, hot tears streaming down her face as she actually felt the warmth of his embrace wrapping around her. He was real. He was here. His heart was beating. She could feel it hitting his chest. She could hear it as she pressed her ear against his chest, nearly squeezing the life out of him, “So you know the road that leads you home after all, even without me here, huh?” Hopper asked, the tearful chuckle rolling through his large form. 

  Pulling her head from his chest, her arms still attached to him like a little girl who is scared. She kind of was a little girl scared that her father would disappear if she let him go. “Huh?”

  “You’re here. You came here all the way from West Lafayette. You knew the way home when you needed me. You did exactly what I told you that morning,” He took in her confused expression. “Joyce told me you chose Purdue. Smart girl, they did offer you a full-ride. Wish I could have been there to see your first day.” 

  “I wish you could have been there too, Dad.” She admitted, squeezing him in a hug again. 

  “Part of me doesn’t want to let you go back. Sometimes I wish I could just have a pause button so you would stop growing up. I would have paused it until I escaped the Russian base.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as tears started to fall from his eyes. Y/N was too overwhelmed to actually process that little bit of information, hoping to remember to ask him about it later. Joyce and Murray shared a look. This was a side of Hopper nobody saw. He was vulnerable. He was speaking in ways they didn’t think possible. 

  “No matter what happens, Dad,” Y/N pulled away from the hug slightly. “I’m always going to be your little girl. Me believing you were dead while you were really just a prisoner in a forgein country for so many months isn’t going to change that.” She joked, laughing through the tears rolling down her cheeks, the bright smile Hopper loved so much on her face.

  “You’ll always be my little girl,” He repeated, pressing his lips together. “Pigtails and all in my mind.” He smiled as she rolled her eyes playfully at this, pushing his shoulder before embracing him yet again, still scared that he’ll disappear again.  

#jim hopper request #jim hopper #jim hopper blurb #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x daughter!reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things season 3 spoilers #stranger things spoilers #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #stranger things fics

[tnbc-thoughtsandheadcanons]

Megan Shepherd's TNBC Novelization: Review

Here are my thoughts and full review on Megan Shepherd's Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas (Novel). Although the book is closely based on the movie, there are a few unique things about it that I deem necessary to hide under a 'Read More', for spoilers to those who wish to avoid them.

Review + my thoughts below!

The book closely follows the movie with descriptives for each scene, except it doesn't contain any of the songs or lyrics, so substitutional dialogue is used instead. Most of these went well to describe/summarize the songs they replaced. I have no complaints with how Megan followed the movie in novel form, it's pretty accurate beyond some...minor things.

One example: Halloween just ended when Jack goes missing and stumbles upon Christmas Town, and when he comes back, he decides to have Halloween Town handle Christmas themselves. It's noteworthy to mention that they manage to do this from only November 1st - December 25th, a timespan of only 2 months. However. In this novel, the timing is changed - and it takes the Town a whole year to manage their own Christmas, and it is stated in the text that they "skipped their first Halloween" in order to do it.

Wouldn't the humans notice something different with Halloween, without the monsters and creatures of the night to scare them? Wouldn't it be kind of lame, and warrant the title of a "bad Halloween"? When Santa Claus and his gifts were missing, the humans nearly brought an end to Christmas. Is Halloween exempt from impacting the humans like this? Wouldn't there be any repercussions? Isn't it the Holiday World's purpose/job to bring the holiday TO the humans??

Anyway!

The text is beautifully written and I loved Megan's portrayal of Jack Skellington's internal struggle and depression, and how Sally related to it. She wrote the two of them wonderfully in the novel and even brought new details into the picture, mentioning Sally had done sewing tasks for him and is the one who recommended putting white stripes on his suit. She also delivered his book of The Scientific Method from the Doctor to him. <3

The novel contains a lot of little details/changes like these. I loved most of them and only had minor issues with a couple choices. One particular recurring mention, that I and other readers have disliked, was the heavy reference and implication to Jack Skellington's death. A few times in the novel, he thinks of his "previous life" and how he died. I share a fandom headcanon that Jack is a special skeleton from a species in Halloween Town itself, rather than him just dying. But this is a personal nitpick and doesn't impact anything, really - it's Megan's choice for his backstory, and I respect that!

Another small nitpick of mine is that I always thought Jack nabbed all the Christmas books from Christmas Town, but in this novel, it says that he got them from Halloween Town's Library. This brings all sorts of confusing questions into my mind...

A couple of my favorite lines from the book:

Also, the MOST interesting part of this novel, for me, is how it follows The Pumpkin King Game's backstory for Oogie Boogie, where he attempted to overthrow Jack Skellington to become Bug King. The novel mentions this a few times, and it's one of my favorite takes of Oogie Boogie - so I was delighted to see canon from my favorite TNBC game implemented into the novel!

Overall, I loved this novelization and the new headcanons it brought to me. It was wonderfully written and stayed close to the movie while also portraying the author's own takes on the characters and their feelings. Beyond my few minor nitpicks, it was great and I can't wait to see what the author will do with Long Live the Pumpkin Queen's sequel.

Check out this novelization if you can!

#the nightmare before christmas #nightmare before christmas #tim burton #disney #henry selick #oogie boogie #jack and sally #jack skellington #jack x sally #tnbc #megan shepherd #novelization #review #spoilers #sally skellington #dr finkelstein

[writergirl3]

Favourite 4 Town Blogs

Sooo...I've been having real bad writer's block. Like, can't get anything on the page. So, I've been re-reading all the 4 Town content on here that pretty much made me fall into this fandom.

I'm sure most of you already follow these amazing blogs, but I wanted to show them some love.

Maybe it would be cute if people reblog this with their favs, y'know, spread the love?

Anyway, check them out!

⭐️@wondero28: One of the first blogs I found on here and it's a firm fav. Also think they're revamping their content, which is exciting!

⭐️ @4townlove: Stumbled on this gem a few months back, their writing is 👌🏼 Also, we have crazy amounts in common😂

⭐️ @miniimapp: Genuinely used to get so excited each day in December for their countdown to Christmas posts. Their hcs are some of my favs!

⭐️@shiroichiban: Not sure if they're active anymore, but I still head back to their master list full of cute pieces of writing.

⭐️@4townl0ver: Another fav, super active and their artwork is amazing!

⭐️@magicbratt: Relatively new find for me, but I really like what they've written so far and can't wait for more content.

I'm sure there's more, but here are a few favs just to start with. Us 4Townies are pretty starved, so reblog this with your own fav creators to satiate us all🧡

---

Musing Meaninglessly Masterlist

#4 town #4town #4*town #turning red #4 town headcanons #4 town aaron z #4 town jesse #4 town aaron t #4 town robaire #4 town tae young

[foibles-fables]

What's that? Random asks? Don't mind if I do!

How did you hear about Horizon that made you want to play it, and how was that first time?

Howdy hello and HECK YES! I love this question.

So--summer 2020. I'd just come back from a decade-long hiatus from fandom in general, and was starting to learn the new ropes and spaces (this former livejournal clown breaking into discord and twitter, etc.). One night, I was scrolling through my twitter timeline and happened to stumble upon the freshly-posted E3 announcement trailer for HFW. And even though I hadn't really played a narrative video game since the PS2 era, I decided to watch it. And, huh! I remember saying, "Badass freckly redheaded archer...seems relevant to my interests." The graphics were absolutely gorgeous and what little hints of the story were present in that trailer (especially for someone who knew nothing of the narrative background presented so far) were compelling.

So I looked up some info and found out that it was a sequel to a 2017 game. Cool. Filed that away for later, deciding to get a PS5 when they released later that year.

Jump-cut to late December. I managed to get my hands on a PS5, and it was delivered a couple days before Christmas. Which was awesome, because life was not going super well and I needed a heavy-duty distraction. At this point I had kind of pushed Horizon to the backburner and was instead excited to play AC Valhalla as my first game! But when I booted up, I learned that my mother had bought me the disc version as a Christmas gift. I was left with a couple of days to try other stuff out before I could dive in to ACV.

So, I shrugged and downloaded HZD instead. And the rest is kind of history.

Went into it kind of ambivalent and really hoping I would like it. I had tried to play BotW and was completely overwhelmed by the open-world aspects, and not in a pleasant way, and I hoped that wouldn't be the case here. I'd also never really been into a ton of action games before, as most of my old faves were turn-based. The gameplay itself wouldn't be the clincher for me--that would be the story.

WELL, good news is, I was hooked from the prologue. I would equate playing HZD to not just watching a narrative masterwork unfold, but being in the driver's seat of one. Each discovery Aloy and I made was enthralling and exhilarating, and I legitimately could not stop playing. Could not stop exploring. Every side quest, every collectible, every corner of the map (besides the hunting grounds after earning my Suns at the Nora one, SORRY TALANAH). The entirety of "Deep Secrets of the Earth" had me staring into the darkness of my gaming room in a mix of existential horror and pure amazement. I wept at the ending. The HZD cast left an indelible mark on my heart, and it really reminded me of just how powerful game stories can be. Still trapped in hyperfixation hell (affectionate) over it.

The fun didn't stop there, though. By the time I finished the game (I took my time!), it was early February 2021. I feel very lucky to have sauntered in when I did, because it really seems like it was the perfect time to join the fandom. Folks were coming out of hibernation from both 2017 and the 2020 PC release, hyped with excitement and theories for HFW. Within those first months I met some of the most fabulous and now-lifelong friends (and more <3) I've ever had.

Bottom line: after playing HZD, Horizon and the fandom pulled me through a very very very difficult time in my life. I'm eternally grateful to this series and the meaning I derive from it. Especially from the first game--its vibrant narrative, and its absolutely fantastic characters. Lightning in a bottle, man.

And no, I still haven't finished AC Valhalla. lmao.

#thank you so much for this ask it made me nostalgic!!! #have an amazing day! #horizon zero dawn #horizon forbidden west