#so i will probably not be doing a tag list for the near future

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo: Chapter Two

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @v-sh @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (I hope the tags worked, I'm new to having a tag list!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

Previous chapter: Chapter One

Next chapter: Chapter Three

WARNINGS: none for now

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

Note 2: I’m in love with Ruggie, so I accidentally made half of this chapter about him. Oops.

—----------------------------------

You decided that the best course of action would be watching from afar. The hyenas were afraid of you, the king of the lions didn’t like you, and the wolves were wary of you. All in all, not the greatest situation.

You didn’t know what you expected. Did you really think they would all love you from day one? They were half-animals, after all. They had the instincts of wild animals, not domesticated pets.

Still, you were determined to make them like you. The hyenas would probably be easiest, once they warmed up to you. The wolves would probably get used to you eventually. The lions- well, that was a tricky situation. They all followed Leona, so you’d have to win him over before you could win over the entire pride, and that would not be easy.

You grabbed your journal and pen from your locker and walked to the savannah exhibit’s door. This time, you had brought a water bottle with you, prepared for the upcoming heat you would have to face. You had also bought binoculars from one of the vendors, knowing you would need it if you were going to keep some space between you and the halflings.

You entered the exhibit, wincing at the heat that hit your skin. You scanned the dry land for the hyenas and found them lounging around the watering hole, talking amongst themselves. You stepped behind a large rock and leaned over it, raising your binoculars to your eyes.

It was impossible to hear what they were saying, but they seemed to laugh a lot. You really wished you knew what they were saying, but if you approached them, they would probably stop their conversation and focus on getting away from you.

Day 1

HYENAS

There are seven hyenas and they all seem to be close to each other, as they stick together in a group. Their conversations seem to be humorous, as they are often laughing. This could be from their hyena half, as hyenas are known for their “laugh”.

Each of the halflings are easily differentiated by their hyena ears and tail. They all seem to be around 5’5, but even the tallest ones do not hit 6 feet. 

They are relaxed until a female approaches them. In this case, all seven hyenas are male, so the problem starts when a female keeper tries to feed them or study them up close. They suddenly become extremely wary or even frightened and are very hesitant to come anywhere near a female keeper.

The best way to calm them down, I believe, is to show them that you are not aggressive like female hyena halflings are. It doesn’t get rid of their fear, but it definitely helps.

You peered through your binoculars and watched the six hyenas as they drank from the watering hole- most of them scooping water into their palms and drinking from their hands, while others put their head down to drink directly from the source.

Wait- six hyenas? Weren’t there seven?

You felt a hot breath on the back of your neck and you spun around, heartbeat skyrocketing. There, standing behind you, was the hyena halfling you had talked a little bit with when you were handing out breakfast.

He retreated to a safe distance and sat down, cross-legged, studying you curiously, a slight smile on his face as though he was proud that he had frightened you. Suddenly, you were all too aware of the claws on his fingers and the unnaturally sharp canines that shone in the sunlight when he flashed you a lazy smile.

“Shishishi,” he giggled, eyes locked on you, waiting for your reaction.

“You scared me, Ruggie!” you said, your heartbeat starting to go back to its normal pace.

His grin only widened. You noticed his eyes flickering from you to your notebook.

“Oh! Are you interested in my notebook?” you asked, holding it out to him.

Ruggie frowned, looking a little offended, “I can’t read.”

Oh. You felt your cheeks growing warm. Of course a halfling, who had spent his life in the wild and then captivity, wouldn’t know how to read. It was a miracle that any of them had picked up enough English to be able to speak it.

“Do you want me to read it to you?” you asked.

Ruggie’s eyes widened and he cocked his head at you. Finally, he shook his head. A little disappointed, you closed your notebook. “That’s alright. Did you want to talk?”

Ruggie shook his head once more and you felt yourself at a loss for words. You weren’t sure why he was still here if he wasn’t interested in talking. One of the other hyenas made a whooping sound and Ruggie responded with his own hyena noises, turning his attention to the other hyenas for a moment before he turned back to you.

You decided to try to get him to speak to you, “So, did you enjoy breakfast? You had three servings, after all.”

Finally, Ruggie nodded then, as an afterthought, added, “I like donuts better.”

“Donuts?” you couldn’t help but laugh, “Would you like it if I brought some?”

Ruggie’s eyes widened, “Donuts?”

“Yeah!” you said happily, “My boss said I could bring you guys anything, as long as I paid for it with my own money.”

He looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky, “Donuts!”

Ruggie called back to his friends with a series of whoops and other hyena noises and they responded back enthusiastically. You wished you could understand their language.

You turned back to your notebook.

It seems like hyena halflings like sweets or, at least this group likes donuts. One of them, the one named Ruggie, seems like he has warmed up to me a little. We talked a little, mostly about donuts, but I feel like he isn’t as scared of me as the others are.

Ruggie seemed to have had enough, because he stood up and, with a curious glance back at you, he ran off to join the others, kneeling by the watering hole to drink along with his peers.

You were a little disappointed by how short the conversation had lasted, but more than anything, you were excited that you had a conversation with a hyena halfling at all. Ruggie still seemed a little wary of you, but much more comfortable with your presence than earlier.

It was a step in the right direction.

You were not looking forward to seeing Leona, but you were already in the savannah exhibit and the lions weren’t too far off. The pride’s positions were the same as this morning’s, with Leona lounging on the large rock while the other lions sat and laid on the grass beneath him. The lions were either napping, grooming their hair, or just talking quietly amongst themselves.

The lions were not frightened by you and why would they be? They had a killer bite and claws on each hand. They regarded you lazily, as if you bored them a little.

“Hello, everyone!” you did your best to not sound as terrified as you felt. None of the lions stopped what they were doing for you, continuing their actions as if you weren’t even there.

You hadn’t even noticed at first that Leona was awake, until you glanced at the rock, hoping to get a reaction from him. 

He sat up on the rock, staring at you with an impassive expression. Despite his lack of a warm welcome, your heart soared. This was your chance!

“Hi there!” you said cheerfully.

He looked down his nose at you, clearly not impressed by your greeting.

“Did you have a good nap?” you asked.

Leona continued to stare at you, unimpressed with your attempts at earning his attention.

“So, I know your name is Leona, but would you like to know mine?” you asked hopefully.

Leona’s eyes turned to the right, as though he was making a decision. Finally, he spoke in that slow, rumbling voice of his, “Whatever, I don’t care. Go ahead”

You smiled up at him, pleased that you had gotten his permission, even though he wasn’t as interested as you had hoped, ��I’m (Y/n), it’s nice to officially meet you.”

Leona laid back down but didn’t close his eyes, watching you as you looked back at him.

“Did you eat your steak? I don’t want you to go hungry.”

Leona’s eyes widened a little, as though you had taken him by surprise. And maybe you had.

His gaze evaded yours as he responded to your question, “Yes, I ate it.”

“Oh good!” you smiled happily up at him.

Leona studied you closely, clearly unable to read you. Leona tilted his head and turned away from you, “Is that all you need?”

“I’ll write in my notebook, if you’d prefer me to do that.”

Leona grunted in response and closed his eyes.

DAY 1

LIONS

The lion halflings are not shy like the hyenas, but they are hesitant to talk to me. I feel as though, if I earn their king’s acceptance, I will be able to talk to them all. The king has started to talk to me, even if it was only a few words.

The lions are taller than the hyenas, most around 6 feet tall. They are easily differentiated by their lion ears and tail. There are 19 lions, with most being female, and only one cub.

Unsurprisingly, the lion halflings spend a good chunk of their time sleeping. I assume this is from the lion part of them.

“Did you want to read what I wrote?” you asked, sensing Leona’s eyes on you. Your eyes met his and he held your gaze for a few moments before growling, “I’m going to sleep.”

He flopped back down on the rock and closed his eyes again, his breathing becoming rhythmic almost right away.

You didn’t want to bother Leona when he was trying to fall asleep, so you sneaked away, sending an unrequited wave over your shoulder to the other lions. Maybe if you weren’t so determined to get out of the heat, you would have noticed the eyes boring into the back of your head.

The walk to the wolves’ exhibit was a long one. After all, you had to cross half the savannah before making it out into the back hallway meant for staff. Then, you had to push through the crowds to get to the wolf exhibit. At least the crowds weren’t too bad, since evening was on its way.

You were excited that the sun was falling. You’d be able to watch wolf halflings at their preferred time of day. After all, wolves hunted in the twilight hours.

You hoped that didn’t mean they’d see you as prey.

The exhibit door opened easily and you found yourself breathing the air in deeply. It took you a moment to discover just why you liked the wolves’ enclosure so much. Mountain air. Somehow, some way, the zoo had made the enclosure smell like the mountains. The air was even a little thinner here than it was on the pathways.

These wolf halflings must have been living in the mountains when they were brought to the zoo. The thought made your heart hurt a little. Were they offered a deal to live in captivity or were they captured and brought here by force? You didn’t like to think about it too much.

This wasn’t your battle to fight.

The keeper who fed the wolves their evening meal walked past you with full buckets. As she passed you, she gave you a word of advice, “You aren’t gonna find them all together like they are at mealtimes. They all split up, especially in the evening.”

You nodded, a little disappointed. That could make it harder to find them, much less study them. Plus, it’s not like you could look in several directions at once. This might be a little more complicated than you thought.

Or maybe it’ll be fine, you reassured yourself, trying to stay positive.

You reached a steep, downward slope and decided it was probably the best vantage point you would find. You found a nice place to sit down between a cluster of rocks and took out your binoculars. 

It took almost half an hour for you to see any movement. Down, at the base of the hill, one wolf halfling walked close to the barrier between the wolves and guests. He had his back hunched in a sort of prowl, and you realized that he was probably in hunt mode. 

Excited, you pulled out your notebook to make some notes.

Your pen froze above the paper when you heard a growl.

You slowly turned your head, and what you saw made your blood run cold. A buff wolf halfling with dark gray hair and pin-pricked ears had his lips drawn over his fangs in a snarl. He was growling so ferociously that flecks of spit flew in your direction. His yellow eyes dilated as he grew closer, back hunched as though he were ready to lunge for your throat at any moment. 

You gulped, forcing yourself to stay completely still. You were afraid, if you moved, you’d have your throat torn out before you could blink.

The wolf took one step closer, growled one last time, then lunged.

The halfling seemed to stop midair and, before you knew it, he was lying on his side in the dirt a few feet away. The cause of his sudden stop was made clear after a few terrified moments, when your eyes turned upwards.

The white-haired wolf halfling stood with his shoulder still out in front of him. You realized that he had shoulder-checked the older wolf during his attack. Shakily you smiled at him.

“Thank you so much!”

The dark-skinned halfling took a seat on one of the rocks surrounding you. You studied his features, everything from his white tail to his white ear tips. He, on the other hand, watched the older wolf warily.

The older wolf pushed himself to his feet, shaking the dirt from his clothes. His yellow eyes glared at you, but he limped off in the opposite direction, disappearing into the shadows of the trees. 

The white-haired halfling turned his attention back to you. You decided to offer your friendship to him.

“My name is (Y/n), what’s yours?”

He stared at you for a moment, before his rumbling voice said, “Jack.”

“It’s nice to meet you Jack,” you said, trying not to come across as too excited to be talking to him. You didn’t want to scare him away with your eagerness.

Jack continued to stare, his golden stare softening a little when he said, “Not safe.”

He didn’t seem to have a very good grasp on the English language, but that was understandable. It didn’t seem like the wolves were all too friendly toward humans.

“I have to stay,” you explained to Jack, hoping he would understand.

“Not safe,” Jack replied. He got up from his sitting position and crossed the distance between you in less than a second. You watched, trembling, as his one of his clawed hands took hold of the back of your shirt collar. 

You blinked owlishly as Jack began to carry you by the collar, stunned by his behavior and not wanting to tick him off by fighting. From what you could tell, he didn’t seem to want to actually hurt you, but you didn’t want to push your luck.

After a long walk, Jack set you back down on your feet. He pointed one clawed finger behind you. “Not safe.”

You turned around and, to your surprise, you were met with the exhibit door. Comprehension dawned on you. He wanted to keep you safe.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you soothed, “I have to study-”

“Not safe,” Jack responded, voice even gruffer.

You tried to come up with the perfect solution. You had to soothe Jack but you also had to do your job.

“Well, you could protect me,” you suggested.

“Pro-tect?” Jack’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, keep me safe,” you replied. Jack took a while to think that one over. Finally, he nodded.

He followed you back to your spot like an obedient puppy, but refused to sit down, choosing instead to hover over you, eyes darting in all directions.

Day 1

WOLVES

Wolf halflings tend to be around 6 feet tall, distinguishable by their wolf ears and tails. There are 12 of them in this zoo, with 6 females and males each. 

Some of the wolf halflings are very aggressive, and this seems to amplify in the evening hours, possibly because these are their hunting hours. One wolf, however, acts in a protective manner towards me.

It is interesting to note the wolf halflings appear to be in hunting mode despite just being fed.

All of the halflings, save for one, have hair and fur in different shades of gray, while one has white hair and fur.

You didn’t see any other wolves for the next few hours and you eventually decided it was time to go home. Jack shadowed you on your way to the exhibit entrance. You waved goodbye, and he mimicked the action awkwardly.

Laughing a little, you went home for the day.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 4

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

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

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

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: back again.

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

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

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

You sit at the dining table with your laptop, hiding behind the screen as you try to figure out what to do. How do you get this man to leave? Better, how do you do that without making him angry?

You stare at the unfinished project in front of you. You're not going to get paid for blurry pixels. Work is the least of your worries.

You peek over the top of the laptop and blanch as the subtle movement catches his eye. He grins and sits up, “need something, sweetie?”

“Uh, nope,” you put your eyes down and the screen goes fuzzy.

“Hm,” he hums into a grunt and heaves himself up, “you haven’t made any videos yet. What about your shopping trip huh? You gonna edit some of that.”

“Erm, maybe later, I have work stuff–”

“You know,” he nears and stands across the round table, looming menacingly with his hands on his hips, “you could probably quit all that if you committed to your streams. Lotsa people wanna watch a sweet girl like you.”

“That’s nice but I don’t even have ten followers,” you chuckle.

“Mm, maybe, but… I could help you,” he offers.

“Really, it’s fine,” your voice trembles, “it’s… it’s just a way to get my thoughts out, that's all.”

He clucks and clears his throat, looking around, “well, I guess I’ll go get my stuff.”

“Um, sure,” you look at him again then peek at the keys hung by the door.

He whistles, “Aika, come, you probably needa go.”

The dog rises from beside the couch and follows him to the door. You get up, heart flipping. You need to just lock the door. As long as he doesn’t–

He grabs the keys and shoves them deep in his pocket. He hooks the leash onto Aika’s collar as she stands obediently before him. He grins over at you, “don’t worry, sweetie, won’t be long at all.”

He turns and unlocks the door, swinging it inward as he lets the German shepherd lead the way. You deflate and fall back onto the chair. Holy shoot! What are you going to do? Nothing you can think of makes sense. He doesn’t make sense. It’s as if he really believes you know each other. That this is his home.

You bend over your lap and hold your head, rocking as you let out a drone. The panic is so bad you can’t hold it in. The noise escaping you is inhuman. You know you’re too weak, too afraid to do anything. So what? You’ll just let him take over your home?

You quiet and stay as you are, hunched over your legs. Are you going to let him do whatever he wants? To you?

Your blood runs cold and you sit up slowly. You’re dizzy as the silence rings in your ears. You stare across the room, only able to see a glimpse of the door frame.

You don’t know what you’re going to do.

You’re paralysed. You hardly believe it yourself, you don’t think anyone else will either. The thought of explaining it is embarrassing on its own.

You’re being stupid. You need to tell someone. Anyone.

You hear him before he enters. He opens the door, pausing as he lets Aika off the leash. She sniffs around as the door shuts heavily.

Sy appears, a large bag of kibble balanced on one shoulder as he carries a military duffle in his other hand. He drops the latter and brings the former into the kitchen. You stand, hollow as you make yourself move. You go to the doorway to the kitchen and watch him search your cupboards.

“Ladybird needs a bowl,” he says, “she’s hungry.”

“Oh,” you utter dumbly and blink. You’re stuck where you are.

His cheek dimples and he returns his attention to his search. He takes out the pink plastic bowl you use for salad and he uses a measuring cup to scoop out the kibble. You just watch as he puts it on the floor for Aika as she sits patiently.

He stands and she does too, eagerly scarfing down the food, flicking slobber all over your salad bowl. Sy faces you and you flinch as he comes near, reaching for you. You back away.

“Sweetie?” He says, “what’re you doing?”

“I… I…” you rub your arm, “how long are you planning on… staying?”

He scoffs, “what? Ah, come on, sweetie, you’re funny. “

“I’m… I’m serious,” you quaver, “I didn’t… we just met.”

His face falls and so does your heart. His expression turns dire and he crosses his arms. Aika seems to notice his shift and quits her loud chomping. She raises her nose, letting out a low growl. You gulp. He has that same glint in his eye as in the truck when he nearly rear-ended that other driver.

“Sweetie, I told you, I've been watching you all this time. You know, I was your first follower,” he takes a step closer and you take one back. “I know you.”

“Right, uh,” you push your hands together and bend your fingers back, “I understand, it’s just…” you can hardly breathe, “I guess I misunderstood. Of course you can stay, but… you know, I only bought enough groceries for me and… and it’s a small place.”

He considers you. He runs his hand over his beard and exhales loudly. He drops his other arm and tilts his head side to side, cracking the bones, “so we can get nice and snuggly, sweetheart.”

He nears you again, quickly, before you can elude him. He catches you around the back of the head and urges you close. He leans in and kisses your hairline. You freeze and let him. He purrs before he draws away.

“Right, I’ll get cleaned up,” he lets you go, “you can finish your work or… get cozy.”

You nod and stare past him. Aika once more chews loudly as your eyes settle on her straight back. You’re trapped. Your home is now a prison.

You stay like that until you hear the pipes whine and the shower buzzes to life. You glance over, the bathroom door slightly ajar. Mortified, you retreat to the table and sit behind the computer. You know the excuse won’t hold up much longer but you can at least pretend to be busy.

Aika’s claws tap on the tile as you hear her lay near the door. You can’t even run. His loyal guard dog isn’t just keeping people out, she’s keeping you in.

You put your hands on the laptop as you hear the faucet crank off. The scented steam seeps out and dampens the air with the scent of your strawberries and cream soap. You shudder and minimize and maximize the window.

You listen to him. He opens and closes the cabinet several times as he lingers in the bathroom. The door opens and your ears tinge as you focus on the laptop. He steps out as you swirl your fingers on the touch pad.

“I feel better,” he sighs, “how about you, sweetie? Maybe you should have a nice long bath?”

“I’m good,” you utter dully.

“Hope you don’t mind, I used your hairbrush,” he crosses the room.

“No, it’s f–” your eyes flick up on instinct. You swallow as your eyes round. He has only a towel around his waist, the rest of him brazenly bare. “Fine.”

You rip your gaze away and accidentally exit out of the editing software. You try to wipe the image of him from your mind. His thick muscles, the dark hair across his chest and stomach, and over his thick thighs. There’s little left to the imagination or doubt. The sight of him confirms his unbeatable strength.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“N-nothing,” you insist.

“You’re being all shy. What’s going on, huh?” You shake your head as he comes around the table. He presses the laptop shut until you retract your hands. You sit back and look at your hands. “You’ve been working long enough. Come on, sweetie.”

“I… I have a project to finish–”

“And that’s more important? How long have I waited to be with you? Over there in the sh– in the chaos?” He says, offering his large hand, “I got you something. I wanna show it to you.”

“I…” you rasp and peer up at his face, too afraid to look anywhere else. “Okay.”

You give in. Your surrender. He’s a soldier and he’s won the battle. You take his hand and stand up.

He takes you into the front room and leads you to the couch. He stops you in front of it and gestures you to wait. You do and he disappears around the other side of you.

He returns with his duffle bag and puts it in the chair. He keeps his back to you as he unzips it. You peek up and your eyes cling to the scars along his burly back. Just beneath his shoulder and another along his side. Through the fear, you feel a pang of sympathy for him. He must have been through a lot.

“I bought you something,” he says, “when I was driving up.”

He turns and shows you a dainty piece of fabric hanging from his index fingers. You gape at the pale pink bodysuit; flowers in a darker shade trim the corset and the tops of the cups are subtly scalloped. You love the colours but you would never dare to wear anything like that.

“Uh, wow,” is all you can get out.

“Just you know for a special occasion,” he smiles, “it’ll look real nice on you. It’s your colour.” He steps closer as he holds it out to you, “I showed the lady your picture and she said it would be nice on your skin tone.”

You feel like you’re going to faint. Is he really giving you a piece of lingerie? You take it and examine the thin material.

“Obviously, not tonight since we’re settling in and all that,” he chuckles, “but you know… if you wanted to…”

“I’m… I’m going to put this away,” you croak.

You move past him, slowly as if wading through water. You go to the bedroom and cross to the dresser. You stand before it as you stare at the fabric. Your chest aches as you hold a breath inside.

“Ah, still pretty tidy in here,” Sy comments from behind you.

You pull open the top drawer and hide the bodysuit. A shiver rolls through you as you shut it and turn to the intruder. You watch helplessly as he invades every inch of your life.

“You did such a good job, sweetie,” he praises as he nears the bed and plops his bag on it, “watching you clean… it’s admirable how determined you are.”

He reaches in his bag and takes out a stack of folded clothing. You blink as he strides over to the dresser and pulls open a drawer. You sway as you resist the urge to ask what the heck he’s doing. He makes room beside your clothes and shoves his inside.

As he stands, he adjusts the towel hanging lower on his waist than before. You turn away. As much as you don’t like him touching all your things, his nakedness is even more off putting. Most disturbing is his lack of self-awareness. Frankly, it’s frightening.

He unpacks, bit by bit, and rolls open the closet to put his empty bag inside. He goes back to the dresser to shut the top drawer he left open but his hand curls around the top. He dips inside and lifts out a pair of your panties; the ones speckled with printed on bows.

“I like these,” he says, “they’re cute, like you.”

“Thanks, I…” you murmur. “I…” Your mouth is dry and chalky, “I need some water.”

“Aw, sweetie, you look faint,” he drops the panties and approaches you. “Why don’t you sit down?”

He urges you onto the edge of the bed, his hands on your shoulders. He looks down on you as you tilt your head to peer back at him. He looks so big. He keeps his hands on you, gripping tighter, and for a moment, you’re not sure what he’s going to do and you think he is even less certain.

He pulls his hands away and shakes them out, “I’ll get you some water,” he says, “you had a long day, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hum and lower your chin, your hands shaking in your lap.

You did this. You welcomed this man in. More than letting him drive you home or cross the threshold of your apartment, you put yourself online, exposed yourself to the public. You heard the horror stories before, the true ones, but you just never thought it would happen to you.

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #sandcastle #follow you anywhere

[oleander-nin]

Yandere ROTTMNT Vampire Headcanons

A/N, not important: I am so sorry this is so late. I haven't been doing very well lately. I have one more vampire thing in the works, and I'm also going to start getting as many of my requests done as possible. Feel free to ask questions if you need clarification or want a certain thing answered. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Food insecurity, withholding of food, vampires, bites, dark themes, violence, yandere

Words: 1696

Summary: Yandere ROTTMNT Vampire Headcanons

Tag list: @f1oricide @itsyagurlchip @lordfreg @acutiewithagun @rottmnttmnt2012 @lixnininotnay

Michelangelo:

Mikey tries to hide it from you for a while, mostly because he doesn’t want you to be aware of his added abilities. He thinks it’s just funny now when you try to plot an escape or fight back, since now you really have no chance. Most likely, you never even realized he was a vampire until he first sinks his fangs in your wrist.

He thinks biting you is like, subtly romantic since you’re more or less blessing him with your blood. You’re allowing him to live off your own life, and it just pulls him further into his delusions of love. Obviously you’d fight back harder if you truly hated him. I mean, so far, he only has to chain you down!

Mikey will constantly talk about your future with him. Now that he’s going to live forever, he knows he actually means it when he says he’s never leaving your side. He’ll track down the original mutant to get them to infect you, ensuring that you’ll be with him until the sun goes out. He’s absolutely giddy at the thought, updating you every day on his hunt for the mutant until he finds them.

Before he can infect you, he’s even clingier than before. His skin always feels cold now, so he’s drawn to your natural warmth and just likes to be near you.

Watches you sleep a lot as he lays with you. Now that he can see in the dark, he doesn’t want to waste a single moment where he could be admiring you.

Once he finally turns you, he’s ecstatic. His only grief is that he can’t feed from you any more, but he’s plenty happy with the certainty you’ll never be able to leave him.

If you complain about being turned, he’ll get upset. He did this for you! He ensured both of you would be together forever more, and now you’re being ungrateful. He’ll pout for a while, trying to convince you of all the ways your life is better now.

He’ll withhold blood from you if you misbehave. Because you obviously can’t hunt yourself, you rely on Mikey to get you your food. If he thinks you’re being unfair, or aren’t listening, he’ll conveniently ‘forget’ to get enough food to feed you as well.

He gets surprised when you fight back more after being turned, your enhanced strength and speed making him question his choice for a small while. He doesn’t like that you have a better chance of leaving now. He obviously wins, but he’s afraid he’ll slip up and you’ll get away. He keeps you chained tighter for a while, at least until you’ve calmed down. No matter how long that takes.

Donatello:

He doesn’t tell you of his new infection, but he doesn’t hide it either. It’s just another mutation to him, one that’s more beneficial in a lot of ways once he realizes how much more he can do. He doesn’t really see why he should tell you, especially when you’re fighting him at every turn anyways. You’ll probably find out after seeing him storing blood bags in the fridge in his lab, which causes you to freak out.

Once you’re aware he’s a vampire, he’ll start feeding off you more since he finds it more convenient than going out. He likes holding you and just sinking his teeth into your shoulder while he works. It keeps you both still and close, and it prevents him from having to find his own food. He claims the prolonged contact helps you both bond whenever you try to fight him.

Donnie is obsessed with getting you infected as well. He’s terrified of losing you somehow now that he knows he doesn’t ever have to. He’ll hunt down the original mutant to get you bit, not even telling you of his plan until you’re already bit. He doesn’t want to give you a chance to try something stupid before he’s able to secure your place by his side, even if he knows he won’t be able to feed on you anymore.

He has two new punishments for you now that you joined him in the undead. While he isn’t afraid to withhold blood from you for misbehaving, he’s more likely to either force feed you normal food, which tastes awful and can make you nauseous, or he’ll only give you human blood. Both options leave you paranoid with the blood/food he gives you. If you ever try to refuse what he gives you, he’s not afraid to force it down your throat himself.

Threatens to give you blood from your family or friends if you continue to try and cause problems. While he wouldn’t ever really want to actually give you blood from a loved one, he’s not above lying and telling you the blood you're drinking is from them.

The new strength and speed you gain from being turned makes Donnie paranoid. Theoretically, you now have a better chance at escaping. To negate this problem, Donnie makes you wrist and ankle weights to slow you down. At least, until you give him a reason to slow you down permanently.

Raphael:

Raph only feeds off you when he’s too tired to go find his own food. He’s paranoid he’ll drain you, even when his brothers insist it’s impossible. He doesn’t see a reason to feed off you when he has a supply of animal blood at the ready. The difference in taste isn’t a big thing to him, and he doesn’t mind having to find his own food while he’s out. The sewers have plenty of small critters living around.

He’s terrified of hurting you. Raph knows he’s strong, and he’s not always the most sure footed because of his large size. When he accidentally hurt you before, he would coddle you for weeks, but now that he’s nearly twice as strong normally? He knows he’s going to have a lot of accidents, so he practically babies you until he’s adjusted to his new strength. He doesn’t care how suffocating you say he’s being, he refuses to let you be hurt when you don’t need to be.

Waits till you're older to turn you. He wants you to stay human for as long as possible. While he knows turning you would be beneficial as you’d be less likely to get hurt, he doesn’t like the idea of taking your humanity until he has to. Refuses to argue about turning you when he finally does. He mentions it once and doesn’t care how much you protest. He’s let you stay human for years longer than needed. You should be thanking him in his eyes.

Likes to hold you a lot more. He’ll keep you in his arms as he moves from room to room, or be cuddling you whenever you’re both alone. Having you with him forever makes him so happy, and he doesn’t want any time to go by without you feeling loved, or how he perceives loving you anyways.

Hates you when leave his sight. Now that you’re faster and stronger, he’s afraid you’ll do something stupid and try to run. He sees keeping you near him as him protecting you from yourself.

Doesn’t let up on his protective behavior, even though you’re now tougher. He’s not taking any chances with you and your safety. Any plea to leave and go outside is instantly shut down. You’re no longer human, you don’t need to go up top anymore. Your place is with him, forever.

Leonardo:

He doesn’t tell you until he feels it’ll help him. He likes having the extra strength you won’t know about, at least until telling you benefits him. If you’re throwing a fit or have refused to talk to him for a while, he’ll flash his fangs and threaten to drain you until you pass out. After you know, he’ll constantly remind you of his heightened senses and strength. He doesn’t want you to forget how hard it will be to ever leave his side.

Is always a bit worried he’ll get too rough with you and hurt you more than he means to. His upgraded strength makes him more confident, but he doesn’t always remember how much strength he gained. Even as he teases you, he’s hesitant to actually try and mess with you in case he goes too far.

Dry bites a lot. He likes just sinking his fangs in your shoulder while he holds you close, liking the fact you’ll have the imprint of his teeth in your skin for a while. He doesn’t like to feed from you, since it makes him feel like a parasite, but he likes to see the faces you make when he touches the holes his teeth made in your skin.

Waits a while to turn you, mostly because he knows you’ll be able to run faster if you ever do get away. Before he turns you, he’ll start keeping you locked away more. He’ll have you turned while you’re asleep so you don’t even know what happened. In Leo’s opinion, the less you know about this, the better.

He’s ecstatic now that you’re going to be by his side forever. His worst nightmare was losing you, and now he’ll never have to worry about that again. You don’t have to worry about most diseases, death, or being alone now that you have him. Leo treats turning you like a huge favor, ignoring the fact he knows you never wanted it. He plays off hiding it like it was a surprise.

Pretty much solely feeds you animal blood at first, only giving you human if he feels you’re acting out too much. He doesn’t tell you of the change, but he knows it tastes different, and you do too. He doesn’t want to mess with your food too much, since blood is now the only thing you can consume.

If you ever do escape, he’ll probably go straight to an extreme now. You’re stronger, and you're more agile due to the mutation, which makes you harder to contain. He’s not willing to lose you, even if it means hurting you.

#rottmnt #tmnt #rise of the tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt donnie #rise leo #vampire tmnt #vampire rottmnt #vampire tmnt headcanons #vampire leo #vampire donnie #vampire mikey #vampire raph #vampire tmnt raph #vampire donatello #vampire raphael #vampire michelangelo #vampire leonardo #vampire 2108 tmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raphael #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt headcanons #vampire #yandere tmnt #yandere rottmnt #yandere leonardo x reader #yandere leonardo

[casuallyawkardd]

Close Encounters of the Spiderkind Pt II

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Single Mother!Reader

Summary: Your daughter needs a sitter at the last minute and no one else is available, at least that’s what you thought..

Warnings: Fluff, Miguel is still a softie around kids, your daughter is a menace to society, this is basically the Miggy and Vada show, I’m not fluent in Spanish so correct me if I mess up 

A/N: Here’s the part 2 ya’ll wanted so bad! Thank you for the lovely feedback from the last post, I appreciate you guys 💞 If you want to be tagged for future parts, be sure to join the TAGLIST

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

Another month had passed since your little home visit with Miguel. Halfway between then and now, you had decided on sharing your little secret with the rest of the Spider Society. It was no surprise when the other spiders wanted to know more about your daughter, many insisting that you bring her in some time for them to meet. It was especially rewarding when Peter B and Jess heard the news. Granted, Jess was a bit annoyed that you had kept Vada a secret for so long and Peter thought you had deprived Mayday of a potential friend, but after the initial shock they were just as eager to meet her as the others. 

Everyone was surprised at how anticlimatic Miguel’s reaction was. “I already knew,” he would reply when someone would question his behavior, “it’s my job to know.” Ever the cocky asshole, O’Hara. 

The biggest pro to the whole of Spider Society knowing you had a kid was the near infinite amount of babysitters. And trusted ones at that. Except Ben...he was on probation for encourging Vada to hit a new PR with very big, very real weights. Hobie was on thin ice as well, in your opinion Vada was too young to be ‘sticking it to the man’ as he so generously put it. 

When Miguel finds you, you’re in the Go Home Machine control room. Weird, he definitely remembered assigning you an urgent mission. He saunters in, welcomed by the sound of Spider-Byte and you in a very heated discussion.

“Come on Margo, it’s only for a few hours. Vada is a good girl, she won’t get in the way of your work.”

“Nope, not gonna do it. It’s way too last minute, do you see how many anomalies I have to send out today? Plus, I don’t do kids. They're sticky and my equipment doesn't do sticky,” Margo says dismisively, her holgogram zooming around the room as she continues her work.

"My daughter is not sticky," you retort, spinning around in place trying to keep up with her, arms crossed, suited up and ready to go. Miguel recognizes the annoyed look on your face, glad he’s not on the receiving end of it for once, but he’s about to be.

“What’s the hold up? I told you to be on Earth-76C ten minutes ago.”

Your head snaps in his direction, frustration fading only slightly as you huff, “I know. I’m supposed to pick up Vada in an hour, but now I need someone to do it instead and watch her until I finish the mission,” you deadpan him, fidgetting with the Gizmo on your wrist. 

“Did you try-”

“Yes, yes, I’ve asked everyone. Jess is doing date night, Peter said Mayday is sick...” Miguel listens as you rattle off the excuses every spiderperson threw at you, listing every close friend of yours in the society. “...Her grandparents are out of town and my neighbor is the one watching her now, but she has plans tonight as well. So if you have any bright ideas-”

“I can watch her,” it’s so surprising to hear those words come out of Miguel's mouth that even Margo has stopped working to look at him, but his eyes are focused solely on you. Your mouth is moving, but no sound comes out as you try to form a coherent sentence. 

“I couldn’t-”

“It’s really no problem.”

“You’re probably busy-”

“I’m actually very free right now.”

You scoff, hands moving to your hips, “Did Lyla lock you out of your lab again when you went to go grab food from the cafeteria?”

His eyebrows furrow and his jaw tightens, “Do you need a sitter or not?”

Miguel had lost track of how long he was standing in the hall of your apartment building, holographic suit materialized into more fitting clothes for your universe. It felt like an abnormal amount of time, but was probably only a few minutes. Only one old lady going into her apartment looked at him funny, but that was most likely due to the uncomfortable look on his face. It’d been a long time since he’d had to look after a kid by himself, let alone one as young as Vada. 

He had seen her in passing, whenever you would pick up or drop her off with one of the other spiders who had agreed to watch her. You even introduced them one time, saying he was your boss. Vada had just stared at him, he couldn’t tell if it was with a look of fear, confusion or awe. He had no idea how she would react to him picking her up rather than her mother. 

His knuckles rapped against the door and Miguel could hear someone approach from the other side. When it opened he was greeted by a woman, looking to be around your age, maybe even younger. She did a double take when she saw him, but Miguel was used to that. There weren’t a lot of universes where being six foot nine was considered normal. 

“Can I...help you?” she asked him finally.

“M’name’s Miguel...I was told to pick up Vada,” he said simply and her eyes lit up in understanding.

“Oh! You’re who she was calling about,” she called Vada’s name over her shoulder, letting the little girl know it was time to go. “How do you know Y/N again?”

“We’re coworkers,” it wasn’t a lie technically. Miguel parroting what you had told him to say so he could pretend to be someone you knew from your day job. 

“You’re a scientist?”

Miguel paused, confused by the question until he realized she was talking about his...physique. Her eyes not very subtly giving him the up and down. “I...work out when I’m stressed.”

The corners of the woman's mouth briefly turned down in a 'hmph' before returning to their normal position, “Must be hella stressed.”

There was the pitter patter of feet, making Miguel glance past the woman as Vada came to the door. It was almost comical how small she was compared to him, the top of her head barely making it to his hip. The pig tails that were meant to be on top of her head were lopsided, one still in tact while one sagged sideways, and there was a wet spot on her t-shirt. Is that...drool?

“She woke up from a nap about ten minutes ago,” the woman seemed to pick up on his confusion. She knelt down beside Vada, the two hugging goodbye, “Are you okay going with him back to your apartment?” she asked the toddler. 

Vada bit her lip in thought, looking back at Miguel as if to stare him down....or rather up. “Hmmm...yeah. Bye Aunt Harrie,” Vada responds in a neutral tone, stepping through the doorway with a backpack almost as big as her slung over one shoulder.

Miguel exchanged pleasantries with her aunt before the three parted ways. He easily tugged the backpack off her shoulder and followed the little girl down the hallway. She seemed to know the way home, their destination only a few floors up. The rickety elavator opened for them and Miguel stepped in, stopping the doors from closing at the last minute when he saw Vada had yet to get in. 

She...just stood there. Staring at him. Is she scared? Toddlers can get irrational fears, maybe the elevator freaks her out? Then she wouldn’t be looking at that instead of staring at me? “Are you coming?” he finally asked, meeting her gaze when she looks back up at him.

“You have to say superhero jump.” Well that was blunt.

“¿Perdóname?”

“Huh?”

Miguel cleared his throat, “I mean, what are you talking about?”

“Mama always says ‘superhero jump!’ and then I do a reeeally big jump from here to there,” Vada talks with her hands, pointing at her feet and then the elevator.

That’s ridiculous, was what Miguel was going to say before he stopped himself, sighing. “Superhero jump.”

“You have to say it in a happy voice.”

“Superhero jump~,” Miguel’s voice raised an octave in mock enthusiasm, but it seemed to do the trick as Vada did her bathetic jump over the elevator gap. “...Wow, good job.”

“Thank you,” she said proudly as she stood on her tip toes to hit the button for their floor. 

The rest of the short trip was uneventful. Miguel did give Vada a sideways glance when she didn’t request he say ‘superhero jump’ when they got out, calling her actions inconsistent in his head. Like he wasn’t referring to a toddler. When he opened the door to the apartment, Vada was off. She started by running into the living room, stuttering to a stop before going to her mother’s room, then her own and even the bathroom.

Finally she stopped back in the living room where Miguel waited, “Where’s Mama?”

“She’s working, I’m watching you, remember?”

Vada’s nose scrunched at that, “I want Mama.”

“I’m sure you do, but you’ll just have to wait.”

The toddler’s foot stomped defiantly, “I want Mama now!”

“Vada,” Miguel huffed, squatting to be level with her. “Cálmate, your mother will be home in a couple hours. You’re a big girl right? You can wait,” Vada glared at him, but it was hard to take a three year old’s anger seriously when she looked cute expressing it. She then gasped dramatically, cheeks puffing out as she held the breath, little hands covering her nose and mouth. There was a moment of awkward silence as they stared at one another.

What was she-oh. Oh.

“Stop that, throwing a tantrum isn’t gonna change my answer,” Miguel said a bit more firmly, making sure to be somewhat gentle still. She didn’t budge. “Vada, ay coño, that’s enough.¿Quieres desmayarte?” Do you want to pass out?

He reached a hand out to grab her, maybe jostle some sense into her, but didn’t get the chance as she erupted into giggle when his hand grazed her side. Miguel was confused at first before realization hit, “Are you ticklish?” he teased.

Vada giggled again, her bad mood seeming to fade away almost instantly, “Noooo~,” she cooed. 

Miguel scoffed, the corners of his mouth turning up, “Alright, you’re not ticklish, but come on. I’m sure you don’t want to just stare at each other until your mom comes home. There’s gotta be something you want to do? Maybe play? What do you and your mom do for fun?”

The afternoon went by surprisingly fast. Vada was...quite the little firecracker. Very much her mother’s daughter. Not only did she look like a carbon copy of her mom, but she had the same mannerisms. The way her nose scrunched when she was displeased with something he said, the way she bit her bottom lip when thinking hard about something, it was like he was babysitting a tinier version of you. 

Vada played him like a fiddle, getting him to play pretend with her little toys, even convincing him to do different voices for each of the dolls she had assigned to him. Miguel was just glad no one else was around to witness this, he’d be spending the rest of his life threatening them to keep quiet. He became very aware of the drama at Vada’s preschool, the little girl filling him in on all the latest gossip, to which Miguel was listening to with an embarrassing amount of intrigue. 

“...now Becca isn’t talking to Daina because Daina laid next to Teddy during nap time,” Vada rambles on, absentmindedly rolling a toy truck across the floor. 

“Uh huh, because Becca like likes Teddy,” Miguel affirms, his deep, monotone voice a stark contrast to hers. He sat next to her on the ground, watching Vada as she continued to play, while detangling the hair of one of her dolls with a tiny, plastic brush. 

“Yup! And then Becca got mad and pushed Daina into the sandpit, so now Becca can’t play outside for pickup.”

“Tch! Puta...” Miguel mutters the phrase without even registering it, catching himself when he realizes how invested he’s gotten in petty gossip. A child’s petty gossip, no less. Domínese, O’Hara... 

“Puta.”

Miguel’s eyes widen, looking back at Vada. Did she just.. “Don’t say that word.”

“Why?”

“It’s a bad word.”

“Nuh-uh, my mommy knows all the bad words and she's never said that one.”

“It is.”

“Poooootaaaaah~” Vada enunciates, giggling at how annoyed Miguel gets when she says it. Before Miguel can scold her once more, the clicking of the front door alerts them of your arrival, both Vada and Miguel’s head snapping to watch as you come in and shut the door behind you. 

It had been a more difficult mission than you had anticipated. The Sandman from your earth was reeking havoc in another dimension. Seemed like an easy fix, until you discovered there was another Sandman from a different universe also in the mix. After some sloppy web work, a little assistance from the spider of that universe and a few bruised ribs, you had them captured and returned to HQ to be sent back to their respective earths. The damage to your body was minimal, for someone with superhuman abilities, a good night’s rest would have you back to normal.

The door had hardly been shut when the familiar tapping of Vada’s feet on the hardwood approaches you. And as usual, you crouch down to accept her embrace, this time wincing slightly as her little body collides into yours, your toddler oblivious to the injuries you had sustained. She wastes no time talking your ear off, telling you how her day was at Aunt Harrie’s and her evening with Miguel.

Miguel, speaking of, stood in the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room to watch the interaction unfold. You don’t see it, but the sight of you watching as Vada eagerly chatters brings a smile to his face, just a small one, as he admired the relationship between mother and daughter. When you glance his way, he averts his gaze to the ground and clears his throat stiffly. 

“Well, sweet girl, it sounds like you had a busy day,” you say, looking back at your daughter. She’s beaming at you, a sight that always warms your heart no matter how many times you see it. “Come on, let’s get dinner started.” Vada moves like someone who’s never eaten, bolting to the kitchen counter and crawling onto one of the bar stools. 

“Can Miggy have dinner too?” she asks, fidgetting excitedly in her seat. The question makes you pause, stopping just as you were about to fill an empty pot with water. After hemming and hawing for a moment, Vada decides to turn her attention to the man in question, “Can you, Miggy? Can you?”

Miguel’s eyes narrow, jaw set as he thinks of what to say, Vada waiting with bated breath. “Well...”

“It’s fine.” You finally find your voice again. 

Miguel turns his attention to you now, “It is?”

“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” you shrug simply, “that is if you want to stay for dinner.” Miguel purses his lips as he thinks over your offer and you try not to chuckle at the sight.

“...What are you making?”

“Boxed Mac n Cheese.”

He scoffs, “That doesn’t sound very-”

“Mac n Cheese is my favorite!” Vada chimes in, “Mama always gets the one’s shaped like unicorns and rainbows cuz they taste better.”

Her words make Miguel pause again, finally letting out a deep breath through his nose, “Sure, I’ll stay for dinner.”

You smile mischievously, “We’re happy to have you, ‘Miggy~.’”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Dinner with you and your daughter was surprisingly pleasant. Miguel didn’t say much as he shoved the cheap pasta and cheese down his throat, watching you interact with your daughter. It was domestic, almost peaceful. Afterward Miguel offers to do the dishes while you put Vada down for the night. He excuses himself once done, thanking you for the meal and making sure to leave out the part that, for dinner being a cheap box of mac n cheese, it was the best meal he had had in a long time. 

Tags:

@l0sert0wn​ @deputy-videogamer​ @arctic4life​ @sasaleleselfships​ @autismsupermusicalassassin​ @snert-bees @qundadedingle11 @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @fangirlreice7 @mouse-teagreat @andr3wgarfieldsupremacist @yellieeeee @thesrtuggleisveryreal @escherichiacolli @sweeteaacorner @marvelouslovely-barnes @meeom @candlewitch-cryptic​ @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @melovetitties @ilovemycat6808 @vegas-writing-den @pippethealien @shibble @mommyhange1 @chiikasevennn @pokhouu @jenniferdixon05207 @m0sscr3ates @momos-peaches @insanelycrazyanddelusional @miggyoharaswife @justtnat @imliquidesmooth @thedevillovesflowers @mvc2019   @starrynightnight @risinglightmoon @charming4u @whitetearx @blueparadisecollection16s @idontknowwhatimgoinghere @ziyahshinez @migueloharaslxt @obi-mom-kenobi​ @allysunny​ @viriexo @futuristicpandakid ​ @louderfortheback @tomhollandisabae @itzsab @blue-pears-blog @geraskier-thots @saintskully @johnny-pie @keenzinemugstudent @rizahawkeye1380 @realalpacorn @prettylittlebrowngirl​ @leahnicole1219​ @fandom-ash

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara headcannon #reader insert #close enounters of the spiderkind #miguel o'hara x single mother!reader

[eyebagshawty]

Is It Really You? (Part 1)

Pairing: Astarion x Spawn!Reader

Summary: While Astarion is roaming the streets for Cazador's next meal, he stumbles upon someone crying near the edge of the lower city. Turns out, you wouldn't be a worthy victim, and you're a lot closer to him than you may imagine.

Song Inspo: Is It Really You? By Loathe

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/cruelty, mentions of abuse, mentions of trauma, NSFW (18+ ONLY), Cazador is his own warning

Other Tags: Slow burn, eventual smut, fem!Reader, soulmates

A/N: Hello! I wanted to make a self indulgent first installment to this playlist event I’ve got linked below. This will probably be more than 2 parts. I'd love to create a tag list if folks are interested, but alas I do not know how. If you would like to be tagged in future updates, please comment below or message me and I'll make sure to add you.

Part 2 Part 3

Your dagger sliced through the belly of a dead sheep, your hands immediately moving to inspect the entrails. While magic in Faerûn was quite advanced, nobody had succeeded in finding out how to perfectly see the future. This meant that most had to resort to unusual forms of divination, such as haruspicy. This involved the sacrifice of an animal, inspecting the entrails, and speaking to the god that blessed one with this ‘talent’.

Your thumb rolled over the small intestine, causing your eyes to roll back into your skull. “Well girl, what do you see? Say it,” Cazador hissed, his nails digging into the sides of your throat. The dark lady, Shar, whispered into your thoughts.

“Lady Jannath will agree to your request to meet, you will acquire 6 spawn,” you mumbled, your mouth dry and lips trembling. Your head reeled as your eyes rolled back into place, your vision a little blurred as you got your bearings. You were so hungry, but you knew the vision wasn’t good enough to acquire more than a rat.

“And what of the deal?” His nails clenched harder, just breaking the skin of your neck. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, fear nestling into the depths of your stomach.

“The dark lady knows nothing of the deal. The shadows were too great to understand if you would gain control over the area. All she told me is that you will keep the power you have now at least, my lord.” You choked out. With the grasp he had on your neck, he threw your head into the sacrificial table in front of you. You crumbled to the ground, hands immediately covering your head in defense. “Please my lord, I am hungry. It is all she allowed me to see I beg of you.” He tugged you by your hair onto your knees and bent down so that both of you were eye level with one another. You felt the all too familiar intrusion of your mind, your every vulnerable thought being exposed to him. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to keep eye contact with him; his thumb traced the ridge and squeezed it when he had pried all available information from you.

“I see you do not lie. Leave and fetch another animal, something larger. We will do this again, and you will tell me how this deal ends. Once you do, you will be fed.” You stood, and were roughly pushed to the door, feet tripping over each other as you grasped the door frame for support. “Now! Leave. My. Sight,” he hissed, the door slamming closed behind you as you stumbled through the darkness of the castle halls.

Astarion kicked a pebble with his shoe, slowly walking through the quiet streets of the lower city. His goal for tonight was the Elfsong, maybe a lonely human down on their luck and 5 drinks deep. His skin crawled at the thought, disgust with himself, with Cazador, worming it’s way through his veins.

He let his mind drift, thinking about the past 200 years — he at least thought it was around 200 years, but he had honestly lost count around year 5. He was nowhere near the Elfsong, instead walking near the edge of the city near the woods. Cazador surely can’t punish me more if I get his meal back to him an hour late, he thought. His feet stopped in place as he heard sniffling and stifled sobs nearby. He snuck closer, peering around the stone wall of a house, and he saw her.

His heart lurched, feeling a strange pull towards her; he wanted to see her face, maybe comfort her. His nose scrunched up and he averted his gaze. He shouldn’t be doing this, he needed to stick to the plan lest he end up with Godey for a fortnight. He looked back to her to see her looking straight at him, eyes the same color of red as his with her fangs peeking through in her shocked expression.

Warmth flooded his body as he stared at her. He had heard about true vampire mates from Dalyria whenever she gabbed on and on as he tried to fall into a trance. Could she be his? No, she can’t be. You’re just a spawn. This couldn’t possibly happen to you, you imbecile. He shook his head free from all thought and walked over to the bench she sat on. “Is this seat taken?”

If you had the blood to blush, you’re sure your face would be beet red. You’d never seen another spawn while out in the city, nevertheless the castle. Cazador only ever allowed you to interact with Leon, the longest favored spawn waiting hand and foot on his ‘cherished’ haruspex. You looked up into his eyes, the same wine red color, and you felt warmth flood through your cold skin and a tug at your unbeating heart. You nodded and patted the space next to you.

He sat with very little distance next to you, and glanced down at the wolf below you. He looked over your features more and noticed the fresh scratches and dirt covering your form. “Forgive me for asking… but were you fighting a wolf?” You let out a defeated chuckle.

“I’m the haruspex for our lordship. The vision Shar granted me tonight wasn’t to his liking so he sent me searching for a better, more sentient animal,” you looked down to the cobblestones below you, sighing weakly, “I’m not sure the vision will change. I can’t control what she tells me, which probably means no food for a month until his next request.”

Astarion placed a hand on your shoulder, scowling at the same ground. A shock raced through both of your bodies at the contact, jumping lightly. “You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry,” as he spoke, a thought entered his mind. “How come I’ve never seen you before? Surely I would have recognized your face you’re…” he trailed off. Your head tilted in question, waiting for him to continue. “Beautiful.”

You smiled at his quiet admission, looking over to his stark white curls, his pointed ears, his gaunt but perfectly sharp cheekbones. “He keeps me next to his personal quarters. I’ve never been allowed to see another spawn except for Leon, who oversees my practices and brings me the occasional rat— or cat if I’m lucky. We’ve become quite close. Well, as close as we can be with Godey’s supervision.” You heard a light growl at that. “I don’t love him of course, I’ve kind of lost any hope for that kind of relationship since I was turned,” you quickly assured, not wanting Astarion to get the wrong idea. You’d only just met him, you didn’t even know his name, but you felt deep down that you wanted to please him. “I also think you’re quite beautiful,” you whispered, looking to the sky in shy embarrassment.

Astarion didn’t understand why his stomach filled with rage when you spoke of being close to Leon. He wanted you to be close with him. He wanted to learn everything about you; what you loved, what you hated, who you were before this new life. He slid his palm from your shoulder to your hand, stroking your thumb gently as you looked back to him. “What’s your name?” He asked, already knowing it would be the most beautiful word to flutter from his lips.

You gave your name to him, your eyelids becoming hooded as you slowly leaned closer to him. He smiled and fully intwined your fingers.

“Astarion.” His lips met yours, and the tugging at your heart strained even more, an inseparable bond being created. You reached your free hand to his curls, pushing one behind his ear. As your finger stroked across the shell of his ear he let out a breathy moan into your mouth. He wrapped his free arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

He knew that you were his; his true mate.

He nipped softly at your lips and pulled away reluctantly. You both stared at each other with eyes full of adoration and soft, tender love in the mix. You smiled and cupped his cheek, eyes never leaving his. “Tell me about yourself, Astarion.”

He looked off to the side. “Hmm… well. Before all of this, I was a magistrate. There’s not much I remember except for that,” he sighed softly and you stroked his cheek with your thumb, encouraging him to continue. “I was attacked in an alleyway, beaten within an inch of my life. Cazador found me, offered help and more, and I took it. Now I’m here, I’ve been here for quite a while. 200 years perhaps. Seducing, silencing, and bringing back unaware victims for Cazador to consume. It’s monstrous,” he snarled.

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” you mumbled, searching his eyes which softened before you. “I think you’re just trying to get by. Same as me, same as Leon, same as all of the others. I think people often forget that spawn are victims to him just as anybody else. Sure, the longer end of the stick, but we’re all grasping at the same one.” He leaned into your hand, nuzzling your palm with his cheek.

“My dear, you might be the only one who sees that. But nevertheless, thank you. Now, enough about me. Tell me about yourself,” he gently smiled, rubbing your lower back with the hand wrapped around your waist.

“Well I don’t remember much of my family, but I remember my mother. Not her face, or anything specific, but how she made me feel. She made me feel so loved, supported. I cried a lot after I was turned. Because all I felt was this loss for her,” you sniffled a bit mentioning her, and Astarion squeezed your waist in a comforting gesture. “He must have loved me in his own fucked up way, because the next day I was bathed, dressed, and taken to a mother superior of Shar to learn haruspicy. It’s been about 350 years since that day, but I remember it like it was just this morning.”

He quirked his brow and the corners of his mouth turned downward. His concern flooded through your chest. “What do you mean by ‘loved’?” You filled with shame and broke eye contact with him. You maneuvered his arms from around you and stood, worry flashing across Astarion’s face. You motioned him over to undo the laces of your simple blood red gown. “If you also have one of his poems I wouldn’t be sur-“ his breath hitched as he took in the state of your back.

Near every inch of skin was marked by Cazador, each bite mark, bruise, and scratch in various stages of healing. “I don’t know if I would call it true love, he’s completely insane about me speaking to anyone. That’s why I can only talk to Leon, someone he knows wouldn’t turn their back on him. He’s tried to… be with me a couple of times. Each time I turn him down it’s a week in the dungeon.”

The emotional pain radiated off of you into Astarion’s heart. He could feel the pain of his mate, how she had been used. He brought her to his chest and wrapped a protective arm around her back, the pain being replaced with pure hate. “I want to get you away from him. I don’t want him to touch you ever again,” he growled. He buried his face in your hair and kissed your head. “You’re mine. And I’m yours. As long as you’ll have me.” He nuzzled the spot that he kissed.

You looked up into his love filled eyes timidly. “Astarion, I want that too, but I truly don’t know you very well. I don’t know why I feel so strongly for you, like I was made for you, but strangely I’m falling for you. I want to see where this goes first. And I don’t think Cazador will ever give up on finding me if I’m gone.”

He kissed your neck again and rubbed your sides. “You should ask Leon about true mates, without Godey if you can,” he mumbled as he looked to the sky. The blackness of the night had faded to a dark blue. He needed you to get back to the palace safely; the sun would rise soon. “Darling, we must go.”

Your head popped up, gasping at the lightness of the night sky. You let him take you back to the palace, frantically running away from the early morning Baldurian sun, the dead wolf cradled in your other arm. You were now a block away from the palace. Astarion took your wrist and nipped it. Your heart lurched in its place from the bond and you felt it might snap in two from how tight it had gotten. “Astarion… when will I see you again?” You looked frantically to the castle and then back to him, your worries being calmed ever so slightly by seeing him before you.

“Whenever the time is right, make sure Shar obscures one of your visions. I hunt for him every night. I will wait at the Elfsong tavern every night to see you again my love.” He kissed you fervently, lips moving affectionately with yours. He squeezed your hand and let it go. “Now go on darling, I would never forgive myself if you got punished for being out too late.” You walked backwards toward the palace, only breaking eye contact with your mate when you looked up to the window, clutching the wolf’s body tighter to your chest as you saw Cazador looking down to you in the courtyard from a tall window in his quarters. Astarion was just out of eye view from him and mouthed, “I’ll be right behind you, my sweet.” He was less scared of the punishment he would be receiving later, as he finally had something — someone — that was his.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion #18+ content #bg3 #bg3 astarion #slow burn #angst #astarion ancunin #soulmates #astarion x tav #astarion romance #fanfic #bg3 smut

[clbrq]

CLBRQ’S MASTERLIST

-/-

COLBY BROCK;

sucker for pain.

steamed up.

jealous.

she was a dancer.

all for me.

tease. (ft mike’s dead)

series—wannabe; teaser.

venom.

that’s mine.

i hate you.

you’ve done it now.

SAM GOLBACH;

stalker.

SAM AND COLBY;

double trouble: pt1, pt2.

unavailable: pt1, pt2.

uh oh.

destroy me.

-

UPDATE; my requests are now closed until the near future, my inbox is completely full and i’m trying to get round to them as soon as possible.

similarly, my posting schedule will be reduced as i have a lot of work to do outside of writing and need some proper rest and socialising time too! i be posting probably every other day maybe, but stay tuned.

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, i have a post about that, so feel free to comment and you’ll be added.

thanks for all the love, and thank you for reading :)

b<3

#colby brock #colby brock angst #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock fics #colby brock fluff #colby brock headcanon #colby brock smut #colby brock smut x reader #colby brock x reader #colby x reader #sam golbach fics #sam golbach smut x reader #sam golbach headcanon #sam golbach fanfiction #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach smut #sam golbach #sam and colby #sam and colby smut x reader #sam and colby headcanons #sam and colby fics #sam and colby fanfiction #sam and colby x reader #sam and colby smut #corey scherer #tara yummy #xplr club #xplr #the trap house

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 9

Oh wow, a new chapter? Who'd have thunk it.

My posting schedule is all off and I honestly don't know if I can get it back under control. I have no idea when I'll get time to sit down and write and when inspiration will strike, so I can't assure weekly updates. But I'll try my hardest to get this story out! I have future chapters written, it's just that I have no way of connecting them right now :/ Oops.

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Ah shit, here we go again. Angst, arguments, jealousy

Word Count: 2,250

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6][Part 7][Part 8]

Some moments are easier than others. Sometimes you feel like you’re not pining like a love-sick teenager enough to think that you can actually do this – you can actually be friends with the man you love.

But then there are moments like tonight.

A few weeks have passed since community get-together, and you and Bucky are the new kids in town. Everyone drops by to say hello, leave you with enough food to last the winter, and invite you both back to their homes for dinner. It’s all very sweet, and you would appreciate the hospitality in any other situation.

But the amount of mothers trying to marry their daughters off to Bucky is insane. 

Several have not-so-subtley seated Bucky next to daughters of marriageable age, while everyone else is silently discouraged from interrupting their conversations. It skeezes you out when the girls are barely out of their teens, but most of the girls are around your age or older. Morality-wise, that’s a whole lot more appropriate. Internal monologue-wise, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh doesn’t even begin to cover it. What you feel whenever he laughs at something they say, or looks at them with his intense blue eyes – it hurts. That’s how he used to look at you, once upon a time. Like his life wouldn’t be the same without you in it, like you’re one of the most important people in his world.

To be fair to Bucky, you probably read waaaay more into it than he ever meant. And you only ever really saw that look come out when you were straddling his waist and grinding hard on his cock, skin mottled with his teeth marks and wearing his metal hand as a necklace. 

Stop, stop, stop, stop!

Anyway,

You’re usually placed next to older, widowed relatives, as most of the young men in the town have already settled down and popped out a few kids with their spouses except for Petre. Tessa foists the two of you together at every possible opportunity, hoping you’ll hit it off and decide to get married in the near future. 

Petre is nice, smart, cute, but not really your type. You’re convinced that you’ve only ever had one type and he’s off-limits. But Petre’s company is much more enjoyable than the sad, lonely older men they try to pair you with – it never feels great to be compared to someone’s long lost love – so you don’t mind having someone around your age to talk during these things.

Speaking of.

“It’s a nice night, yeah?” Petre comments. The night is warmer than expected, but you and Petre are still bundled up in your coats as you stroll through the dead copse of trees near the latest dinner party. The sun had set only minutes ago and the stars are making their presence known. There’s next to no light pollution in this area, so you always take the time to admire the night sky when you have the chance. 

You often take walks with Bucky up and down your street as a way to decompress after your shifts at the HYDRA facility. After the first week or so of being everyone’s errand-runner, they’ve slowly built up your workload to include calculations and deductions based on redacted data – it’s not as much information as you’d like, but it’s enough to build a foundational understanding of what the experiment was about.

You hum in agreement and continue walking. It’s about time to turn around and head back, but you can’t bring yourself to return only to watch Bucky flirt with the pretty girls that were also invited.  

“Is something the matter?” Petre asks you.

You startle out of your petty, jealous thoughts. “Hm? Oh, no. Nothing’s wrong,” you reply with a smile.

“It’s just that you seem very distracted tonight,” he responds.

With your hands in your pocket, the only thing you can do is shrug your shoulders. “Just tired, is all. It’s been a long week at the office.”

“Ah, I know the feeling,” Petre commiserates. 

All of the sudden, a wailing, piercing shriek ricochets between the tree trunks and reverberates in your ears. Tensing with adrenaline, you take two steps forward, ready to intervene in whatever events are unfolding in the darkness.

Before you get much further, Petre reaches out and takes hold of your elbow. Turning you around, he starts leading the way back. You try to tug your arm from his grip, but he holds firm.

“The cry of a vixen who is looking to mate. They’re rather vicious creatures this time of year, foxes. We don’t want to get in her way,” Petre deters.

“But…” you begin, looking back over your shoulders and watching for unexpected movement among the swaying branches. “It sounds so real.”

“Terrifying, really. I was just as concerned when they began, as well.” Petre gives you a tight smile and relaxes his grip slightly when you stop trying to pull away.

“What do you mean?” you question.

“What?” Petre’s eyes flash around quickly, looking through the woods that surround you.

“‘When they began’. What do you mean by that?”

“Ah,” Petre replies. “When mating season began.”

There’s no more discussion on the eerily accurate sound of a woman in distress. You can only trust that Petre would know the local fauna and their habits better than you, since you’ve never spent an extended period of time in areas such as this.

***

The neighbor’s house finally comes into view. A lone figure stands silhouetted against the porch as they lean against the railings, their arms braced against the banister and posture rigid. When you get closer, you realize that the figure is Bucky. 

You can’t see his face, but you can feel his eyes on you. And apparently Petre can as well.

“He doesn’t like me?” Petre asks.

“Why do you say that?” The question puzzles you because Bucky has no reason to dislike Petre. He’s been incredibly helpful so far, allowing you to ask as many questions as you want about himself and others and he doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. In fact, you feel as if you and Petre have become friends.

“It just seems like he’s never happy to see me.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that – James just has RBF,” you reply nonchalantly.

“RBF?” Petre replies.

You laugh as you and Petre climb the stairs, only now realizing that he still has a hand on your arm. You’d forgotten all about it, but you miss the slight warmth that permeated through your jacket when he removes his touch. You turn to look at him, but Petre is looking away, his hands now deep in his pockets. Turning your focus onto Bucky, you see him watching Petre, his eyes squinted.

A large smile returns to your face as you reach up and grab Bucky’s chin, squishing his cheeks and making his lips pucker from the pressure. “This –” you say triumphantly, “is an RBF.”

Bucky glares down at you and swats your hand away. You cackle at the perfect example of Resting Bitch Face™ in front of you, throwing your head back in joy. When you right your posture again, you can see a small smile on Bucky’s face as he laughs along with you.

“Whatever,” he murmurs. He shakes his head in exasperation before circling his arm around your shoulders. Bucky begins dragging you back down the steps you had just ascended and you grunt in protest. “It’s time to go,” he says simply.

“Ugh, you’re so rude,” you say to him. Craning your neck as much as possible, you look back towards Petre who remains on the porch. “I’ll see you later!” you call backwards with a wave. Petre raises a hand in return, face hidden in shadow as Bucky’s had been.

Focusing back on the road in front of you, you can practically feel what little mirth Bucky had drains away. Looking up, you notice that his jaw is clenched and a hard look has entered his eye.

“What’s wrong?” Now you’re worried that something happened to Bucky while you were gone that has put him in a bad mood. Did someone say something to him? Did one of the women reject his advances? You can’t see who in their right mind would turn him down, but not everyone feels the same way about him as you do. But if it’s the latter, the guilt you feel only slightly outweighs the relief.

“You don’t think you’re spendin’ too much time with him?” Bucky says between clenched teeth.

A frown appears between your eyebrows as you continue to look up at him. “No?” you respond. “He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Ofcoursehedoesn’t,” Bucky mutters under his breath, but you can still hear him.

You slide out from under Bucky’s hold, his agitation sparking flames of your own. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You don’t think you’re leadin’ him on a bit, Y/N?” Bucky asks you.

You scoff. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“You’re always hangin’ around him!” Bucky quips back. “You’re flirting with him and walking out of parties together. All these people, Petre included, are going to think you’re pitching for an engagement.”

The hurt and pitiful feelings from earlier tonight come flooding back. Only this time, instead of feeling them for what they are, you combine them with the anger his comment brings. How dare he accuse you of leading Petre on? As if he isn’t doing the same thing to all those girls?!

“And what about you?!” you yell, the last word ripping its way between your lips and setting your tongue ablaze. “You don’t think you’re stringing all these girls along behind you? You don’t have any intention of getting into a relationship with any of them, either, do you?” 

As the words escape, you remember how Bucky sat you down and asked for a friends-with-benefits situation. Said he wasn’t ready for a real relationship, but tired of one night stands. How the two of you could help each other out since you weren’t seeing anyone either. The old resentment towards yourself and how you let yourself fall for someone wholly unavailable whiplashes back into your mind after months of repressing it. 

If he could ask that of you, does that mean he’s asked someone else? You usually arrive home later than him, but on some occasions that you are released early, he’s not there. Instead of asking where he’s been, you had just let it slide since it could have been construed as possessiveness. Like your feelings – that Bucky believes to be long gone – entitle you to his life. You hadn’t wanted to risk anything at the time, but now your mind can’t help running wild at the possibilities.

“It’s not like I’m screwing his brains out every time we’re gone!” You shout at Bucky. You had been walking down the road away from the house party which was on a street with few homes, so there’s nobody around to hear your fight. “We’re not in the bathrooms having quickies, he’s not fucking me against a wall, or bending me over his motorcycle! He hasn’t proposed we fuck around with each other until someone better comes along!” 

Your chest heaves with the effort of expelling these vicious words from deep within your heart, and you can feel a burning beginning to creep behind your eyes. You hate getting angry – hate that any strong emotion makes your eyes well with tears and makes you look weak. And in this situation, you are weak – weak against Bucky, weak against yourself, weak against the knowledge that the one man you’ve ever loved never felt the same way and never will. Your inability to keep yourself from falling for someone you knew you could never have? Your jealousy that he is probably sleeping with one or more of the women in town? That makes you weak. 

And you can’t stand to be weak in front of Bucky again.

“Newsflash, Buck: I know how it feels to be lead on by you and it fucking sucks!” You lower your voice slightly and take another step away from him. “I know that wasn’t your intention, and I didn’t feel that way at first, but that’s how I feel now.”

“You were my best friend, Y/N – I didn’t want to lose that!” Bucky exclaims. “And I genuinely thought we were on the same page!” He takes a deep breath and clasps his hands over his eyes before saying, “And seeing you run off with Petre all the time just reminds me of us – how we’d always sneak away to get some time alone. It’s just –” He drops his hands and sighs heavily, looking up at the star-studded sky and then back down to you. “I’m jealous.”

“You’re jealous?” You ask incredulously. “Why?”

“Because –” You can tell that he’s struggling to get this out, and if he hadn’t started this argument and accused you of wronging Petre, you might have been more receptive to what he’s saying. More understanding. But right now, your anger swallows all empathy and hope that his words would usually supply. “Because that could have been us,” he breathes. Bucky takes a tentative step in your direction, but freezes solid at the icy glare you send his way.

“No,” you say flatly, “No, it couldn’t have. You made that abundantly clear when I asked.”

You turn your back on him and start running, ignoring the sound of your name as you leave Bucky behind.

Part 10

Taglist: @jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewifeife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshinee @happinessinthebeingg @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #sorry i love you

[kissofsuguru]

COMMUNITY QUESTIONS!

This may be a bit of an embarrassing post, but if any of you wouldn’t mind reading and answering a few questions I would be extremely appreciative!

I have had Tumblr for a very long time, but I have never used it for posting. However I have been a writer, and have often used this app for reading purposes! (mostly fanfics and such). I would like to start writing here, but i’m still unsure on what is important to add/have as a writer on this platform. I am a JJK fan, so I aim to write fanfics, one shots, smut, fluff, practically all genre’s (all probably being anime related). Below I will add a segment on what I do know vs. what I do not (or am confused about) and I would love if any of you wouldn’t mind answering or having some advice to give.

WHAT I KNOW:

I am aware that Tumblr is a so-called home to some very good and experienced writers, as well as mostly used for it’s aesthetic purposes and its vast options. I have noticed that the majority of writers specify the genre at the beginning of their posts, as well as the word count and warnings (if there are any). I am also aware that, like most posts, specific hashtags pertaining to your topic are used. I see that most writers also copyright at the bottom of their works, and that some even have masterlists or links that can direct you to other segments of their work. I have also noticed that some authors have a tagged post for their own information.

WHAT I DO NOT KNOW:

As stated above I noted that this platform is notorious for its aesthetics, and as for that I have to ask: does everyone pick their own style or color scheme and go with it for every post, and everything? If so is it okay to change it up? Another thing I must ask is about the warnings. I have seen CW (content warning I assume) a lot, and was wondering if it is used for all content, or just NSFW content. If so, what and all do you have to specify? What should mostly be specified in your warnings in general? I also don’t know if word count is necessary, as well as don’t know how to get it, but that is something I probably won’t have a problem figuring out on my own. I know that for just starting out I don’t have the need for a master list or anything of the sort, but would it be a good thing/or is it necessary to have some sort of introduction post? If so, what information is the most necessary to have? (I assume name, age, and pronouns being most important). Even then though, I am unsure on how to link things if I were to get a master list in the near future (I know, It’s kinda embarrassing and I apologize..)

There are probably more that I cannot think on top of my head at this moment, but if you have read this far I appreciate you very much. I know this is probably an embarrassing and annoying post, but we all start somewhere so I assumed it wouldn’t hurt to ask. I also did not know which tags to add to this post, hence why I chose JJK ones. I hope you all can forgive me and thank you all for your time <3 Once again I do not expect any feedback but any and all would be utterly appreciated.

#suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto smut #geto suguru imagines #geto x reader #geto smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #about my writing #about myself #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami smut #nanami fluff #kento nanami x reader

[ghuleh-recs]

♡ Fandom Faves Tag ♡

Tag 1-3 (or as many as you want) of your favorite creators (writers, artists, outstanding members of the community etc) and link your favorite creation if you can.

Thank you for the tags @midnight-moth and @coffeeghoulie! I'm gonna challenge myself to not wax poetic and keep these extra short and sweet. That way it's not as intimidating for others to participate (hope that makes sense). Oh and I'm not putting a "keep reading."

Witness my faves (ง •̀_•́)ง

@midnight-moth (who started this tag game ♡) drew THE Phantom art of all time and I recently went absolutely feral for:

Buried in Treasure - Dew x Phantom - E, 3.6k

When his eyes roll forward again, he notices more than just the same riff playing over and over. He notices Phantom’s grip on his hand simultaneously go still and tight. He notices the rosy flush on his cheeks, and the tent in his pants that he tries to conceal with the hand holding the phone. It takes more than a few seconds for all of the dots to connect and when the thought is fully formed, Dew grabs the phone and launches it to the end of the bed.

@ramblingoak hey why is there an angel in the satanic band fandom? I created this whole blog so I could shout about:

The Cardinal's Bride - Cardinal Copia x F!Reader - E, 91k (wip)

A Romantic Adventure in the Old West: After being forced into a marriage with Mr. Saltarian by your father you are sent west to his estate in Nevada. Along the way you end up meeting one of the cowboys you have always fantasized about…

@conjuring-ghouls finds the perfect moments and turns them into the loveliest gifs. On top of that she is endlessly kind and supportive. Look at these!!!

@coffeeghoulie is writing the Aeon x Swiss hurt/comfort fic of y'all's dreams and I got to do my first "official" art collab for it yay!!

Eternal Heatstroke - Aeon x Swiss - M, 17k (wip)

For once in their life, Aeon feels lucky. Whoever's opened this portal, whoever's summoning ghouls Up Top, specifically wants a quintessence ghoul. They may not be the biggest or strongest quintessence ghoul, far from it, but they'll do anything this summoner wants if it means they get to live. Or: being Topside is a drastic change from the life Aeon's used to.

@writingjourney truly the kindest soul and an absurdly talented writer. I screenshot Ibi's tags on my posts all the time because they cheer me up so much 🥹🥹

Friday Nights (series) - Papas x GN!Reader - E, 40k

“But to die as lovers may - to die together, so that they may live together.” ― Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla Each of these stories features a vampire papa and a gender neutral reader.

@anamelessfool writes some of the best world building and characterizations that I have ever read in fanfiction AND she's a fantastic artist.

Violence & Gentleness - Primo x OC - E, 50k (wip)

You made me forget myself...I thought I was someone else, someone good... LATE OCTOBER 1979 Primo has his work cut out for him as the bodyguard of the beautiful and fearsome Mater Emerita Jocasta. As mystery after mystery unfolds, it becomes harder to remain a honest man in this den of thieves called the Ministry.

@foxybouquet makes wonderful art and her colloquial Italian posts are an incredible resource for the fandom.

@angellayercake has angel in her username for a reason tbh. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I learned important things about myself and my love language whilst reading the brilliant:

Banchetto - Terzo x F!Reader - E, 22k (wip)

Papa Emeritus III is struggling to adapt to his life after the Ghost project but perhaps some good homemade Italian food will do the trick.

(I'm cutting myself off here because I could do this all day. I will probably be making another list in the near future because I love and admire so many of you. 😅)

No pressure at all but I would really love to see this tag game keep going! If you're reading this please consider adding some of your personal favorites to the list! This fandom could use some positivity right about now ♡

#i was very calculated with who i tagged btw #i am trusting some of you to tag who i didn't 😅 #tag game

[drippingmoon]

Another Get to Know Me

Tags courtesy of @sleepy-night-child and @splashinkling aaand thanks a lot you two, I loved seeing yours🤩❤

a band you don't like that many others do

Hmm. I'm not really keeping up with people's music tastes anymore (except for you guys). But in middle school, everyone was obsessed with Panic! At the Disco, while I just couldn't vibe with them, so I was mildly worried I'd get defenestrated for it. I didn't, though the chairs did (my class was unique in that they'd slingshot chair seats out of the window by thing them with curtain beads, and they'd kinda just peacefully swing in and out till recess was over)

least favorite animal and why

Nightfriend, I feel like you're making me commit sins (though not really since insects are animals, but it does not feel so??), soo, I raise you: earwigs. Like. My Good Sir. Was there any need for you to grow pincers on your arse to look like you're gonna pull my brain through my ears? No? So please.

hot fandom take

I don't really have any. My fandoms have always been veeery small, even limited to one person (me. Waving, hello!), I'll just hand everyone hot tea and chill🍵

do you wear any jewelry, if so, what's your favorite piece

Not a jewelry person. I did use to have a kitty brooch... but the thing with brooches is, they are perfect for self-poking especially when you're so naturally inclined, so I gave it up.

a movie others liked that you didn't

Ouch, I'm really so out of touch with movies, and these days I'm watching what's very much not popular with people (except for Interstellar. Interstellar is baby). Probably any of the Pride and Prejudice adaptations, I had to go through them for a course, and you couldn't pay me to sit down with them again.

three things you love about yourself

*sees the question and shakes it like a snow globe*

These things so do not come naturally to me. Probably because I'm the type never to think if I can do something and just act, so pride just feels like spur-of-the-moment joy. Though, I'm really starting to think that's just what pride is.

Perfect, actually! So, that I just do stuff, probably my ability to entertain myself, and that I refuse to let life feel like a race. I'm here for the journey.

a place you hope to visit in the future and why

Iceland! Iceland! At night! When I can finally see all the stars, and very importantly, it'll be that delicious shade of freezing, and SNOW! I miss biiig snows so much!! And I want to share it all with my best friend🥰💜💙🥂

an actor that gets on your nerves and why

Am I supposed to know names?

things you're excited about in the near future

Ooooh, you find out like this I'm a bit of fraud come next week. I have goals to put an ungodly amount of chilli in the puff pastries I'll make next week, mostly because I wanna see for myself how painful it can get😈 and, oh, a lot of very awkward and very hilarious dancing, but with how silly it is, it energizes me like nothing else. (And it's still leaps and bounds classier than the 1967 Far From the Madding Crowd adaptation of Troy's... fencing mating rituals. Why was I made to watch that with mine eyes🤣🤣)

least favorite ship in a fandom you're in

I'm in a fandom? Since when? Jokes aside, probably Tomoyo and Kurogane from CLAMP's Tsubasa Reservoir, because HELL NO. Tomoyo crushes hard on Sakura, and you just can't separate Kurogane from Fai. You can't. It'd cost him an arm and maybe a leg also this time.

what's the most toxic fandom you've been in

Oh no, I just make some tea and detox whenever it's the case. I am not a social person, so it helps

list three things you find beautiful about life

Hnnngh, getting to talk to someone in the wee hours of the night when it feels really special, the wind and how it'll numb my fingers but rekindle everything else in me, and how you can grow to love so many things you wouldn't even have thought about before. I love being surprised by time.

any dreams for the future

My personality is such that, from time to time, I just won't dare make a sound from fear they'll just slip through my fingers. I am taught to wait and see.

But this is the rest of the time, SO

I WANT TO KEEP WRITING FOR THE REST OF MY DAYS, AND NEVER FORGET THE THRILL AND JOY OF WATCHING MY STORIES DEVELOP BEYOND MY WILDEST IMAGINATION, OO-RAH!😍👏👏🤺

how are you feeling today

A bit like someone's stomped on my face (sleep; my fault, this time, but the lack of required hours keep me hostage), but also? Energized. Ready to go. And I absolutely never rest😈

These were really pleasant, so if anyone wants to hop on and grab some tea🍵, I'm keeping this tag open for you! I love talking😊

#tag games

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Part I - Chapter I

Masterlist | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.8K

Beta. @starstofillmydream

“The risk of love is loss and the price of loss is grief. But the pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of never risking love.” - Hilary Stanton Zunin

16 Telona

Kazi would never again visit the lighthouse with her sister.

The place where they peeled citrus-stars, watched oceanic storms, danced in puddles, played and laughed, and smacked the other when they argued. It was their sanctuary. And, of course, the ragged lighthouse overlooking Outlook Harbor preserved their culture—the eldest of Ceaian legend.

The legend of the dragons.

As legend claimed, a dragon guarded each Ceaian harbor, its fire a source of light for ships navigating the rugged surf and rocky cliffs. Without the dragons’ guidance, sailors would crash and drown, and the Ceaian population waste away.

When the last of the dragons died, lighthouses replaced their source of light and guidance. But a lighthouse could never replace the security and warmth of a dragon. 

A lighthouse could never replace the visceral reaction of seeing a dragon. Of knowing you were home.

Dominated by childlike wonder, Kazi decided, when she was six, that she would buy the old lighthouse and fix it up. Beside it, she would build an inn. And one day her inn—adorned with her sister’s flowers and succulents—would be the most lauded across all of Ceaia. 

For years the dream sustained her and her sister. She would run the inn and manage the finances, meanwhile her sister would oversee decorations and meal planning. Nothing else mattered. Except for a rowdy sailor here or there. But Kazi would handle them too. Because she would protect her sister. She would always protect her little sister.

And so those girls dreamt of their future and planned for endless happiness.

But life never cared much for dreams. 

Nowadays, Kazi tried to forget the lighthouse’s existence. It made it easier to ignore the ache in her heart and guilt in her mind. 

Slashing rain warmed her fingers as Kazi snapped the final window shut, securing the house from the onslaught of the torrential rainstorm. The sunroom’s windows—spanning the entirety of the wall—overlooked the rolling hills of Eluca’s endless jungle, the planet’s three moons hidden behind clouds pregnant with more rain.

Housing a small couch, four armchairs, a game table, and a handful of potted plants Daria fawned over, the sunroom was Kazi’s favorite place in the house. It boasted the best view of sunrises, and the best views of Eluca’s near-daily rainstorms. 

Tonight, the storm was the worst Kazi had seen since arriving on Eluca two months ago. It wasn’t an oceanic storm, but it was close enough. 

Thunder boomed, loud enough to rattle the windows. Rain harshened its upheaval; lightning spider-webbed chaotic rictuses across the blackened sky. 

Kazi started to smile—the awe and terror of raging storms a memory buried—but the muscle movement strained. Her half-smile fell away. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she last smiled. At least two months. Probably the day before the Purge—

“I met a man at the marketplace today.”

Kazi stiffened. From the corner of her eye, her sister approached the windows, hands clasped loosely before her stomach. A healthy distance—a meter—separated their bodies. Daria seemed to maintain the distance instinctively. Kazi both noted and despised it.

There was a time when Daria would sneak into her bed late at night. Usually scared from the storms, her sister sought refuge beneath her bed covers. She hadn’t minded. What else was a big sister for? 

Now, the distance was a physical phenomenon. Tangible; representative of the emotional distance built over the last decade. Kazi held the blame and responsibility. But she still craved the missing connection. The muffled laughter in the middle of the night; sneaky grins; warm hugs. 

Daria observed the lashing rain with a blasé countenance that belied her usual calculation. “He’s kind but also ambitious, and his financial situation is sound. I want you to meet him—”

“No.” Kazi crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve told you, repeatedly, that I won’t entertain arranged dates—”

“This one is good,” Daria interrupted, facing her. “Give him a chance—”

“I said no.”  Kazi kept her voice quiet and controlled, refusing to yell and risk waking Neyti. “I’m too busy with work and taking care of you—”

Daria recoiled. A flash of lightning emphasized the blush staining her cheeks. Kazi bit her tongue. Her sister was sensitive to any mention of her illness. 

“I only ask that you consider meeting him.” Daria straightened, her gentle poise sharpening, like a vibroblade sparking to life. “I’d like to see you married before I die.”

Kazi bit back her annoyed groan, opting for a glare. Currently, she had three goals, and marriage was not one of them. 

The first goal was treatment for her sister’s illness. It should have been simple to accomplish, and while she had found a healer specialized in palliative care, Daria’s symptoms were still ubiquitous and worrisome. Even now sweat beaded her sister’s forehead, and her fingers spasmed unintentionally. 

The problem laid with ineffective medicine, according to Healer Natasha’s most recent report. 

“As I’ve told you,” Kazi said slowly, “I’m not interested in wasting my time on arranged dates—”

“How are you not lonely?”

Kazi scoffed. “Loneliness is not a reason to get married.”

“Maybe not,” Daria said, “but you have no one to rely on. No parents. No friends. No husband.” 

A hollow sensation gaped in her chest but Kazi ignored it. 

Daria took her silence as permission to continue. “Marriage is a necessity in life. Humans desire companionship—women desire the stability a man can bring to our lives. We’re not meant to be alone.”

Kazi took a few seconds to organize her thoughts and counterarguments. After years with a mother who shared Daria’s sentiment, she was prepared for this specific debate. 

“Marriage isn’t something you can force between two people who don’t know one another,” Kazi started, forcibly calm. “Marriage should be based on love. Not desperation or settling out of loneliness. Marriage is about two people who realize they want to share life together. Who feel life is complete when the other is in it.”

Daria snorted. “That’s quite the idealistic notion of romance I wouldn’t expect from you.”

“It’s not idealistic—”

“But it is.” Daria quirked a manicured eyebrow. “Marriage is a pact to maintain the traditions and ideals of two families, and to implement those beliefs in a future generation. It’s more than just love.”

At the condescension in her sister’s tone, Kazi gritted her teeth. She wasn’t an idealist; she preferred realism as her chosen form of analysis. But love wasn’t an idealistic notion for hopeless romantics. She had read the stories and myths. Love was attainable. Maybe not for her, but it still existed. And she refused to settle for a marriage borne out of duty rather than respect and trust and emotional connection.

The argument represented the sisters’ different lines of thinking, and Kazi couldn’t help but wonder: if their father hadn’t died when they were so young and their mother imposed Reformist teachings on an impressionable Daria, would Daria have shared Kazi’s beliefs?  

Then again, Daria was the perfect mold she was trained to be: a dutiful wife. And nothing more.

“Think about Neyti,” Daria said. “She’s a child who needs stability in her life—who needs the stability a man can provide.”

Kazi sniffed. “I don’t need a man to provide stability to Neyti’s life. I can provide it.”

“I know you feel responsible for upholding your promise to her mother,” Daria placated, “but you need to think about this situation logically. Neyti needs a family. She needs two parents. She needs emotional support and love.”

“I can be her family.” Kazi frowned at her sister. “I can raise her. I can love her. I can take care of her.”

“Oh, Kazi.” Daria gave her a sympathetic look that itched. “Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes.”

“You have no emotional capacity for a child. You can’t take care of her the way she deserves to be taken care of. Not when you’re alone.”

Kazi resisted the urge to flinch, and instead, shifted her attention to the game table where a bedraggled stuffed dog laid. The toy belonged to a six-year-old girl—a girl shoved into her arms when she was fleeing Ceaia. A child who no longer spoke and remained an enigma she couldn’t figure out. Neyti. 

The second goal was to find Neyti suitable, loving parents. Parents who could raise the sweet child in an insecure world fraught with instability and fascism. However, the goal was proving difficult. 

Entering a child into a credible adoption center required extensive documentation. Medical records, education certificates, familial-history records. Kazi didn’t even know Neyti’s last name, much less have access to any of the required documents. 

Their first week on Eluca, she enrolled Neyti in the local primary school, and she secured baseline medical tests. The medical tests proved useful for Neyti’s therapy. Still, the adoption process was slow and arduous. 

Daria wasn’t aware of Neyti’s impending adoption. She believed Kazi was committed to raising Neyti herself. It was a secret Kazi wanted to maintain. Still, Daria’s concern for her lacking competence to care for Neyti hurt. 

“I have emotions, Daria.” Her voice was too strained and Kazi grimaced, clearing away the twinge of hurt. “I’m passionate, I feel things, I experience a wide range of emotions. Just because I don’t allow them to dictate my decisions doesn’t mean I’m unfeeling and emotionless.”

 “I never said you were.” Daria waved a dismissive hand. “All I’m saying is that your emotional capacity is not sustainable nor durable for a child. You work all day; you work late into the night. You aren’t physically around much for her, and you’re too aloof to provide her the emotional stability she needs. Have you ever considered why she still doesn’t speak?”

“She’s grieving—she lost her mother two months ago,” Kazi said disbelievingly. “She needs space to grieve, and I’m not going to force her to do something she finds solace in.”

“But have you considered the possibility that she doesn’t feel comfortable or safe with you to speak?” Kazi winced at the accusation but her sister wasn’t finished. “Neyti needs emotional support, which you can’t give if you’re not physically present.”

“This conversation is over.” Kazi uncrossed her arms, fisting her hands behind her back to hide their trembling. “I’m not entertaining a marriage for the sake of a false notion of stability.”

“It’s not a false notion,” Daria argued. “You may refuse to acknowledge it in yourself, Kazi, but I see it. I see your struggles, and I know that you need someone—”

“That’s enough.” She turned away from the windows. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about my own wants. So don’t you dare try to pretend that you’re interested in securing me a marriage outside of your own personal goal of making me live up to Mama’s teachings.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do—”

“It is. Just because you failed to get married and have children, doesn’t mean I want that for myself.”

Daria flinched. Disbelief wrinkled her forehead, and for a long moment, she merely stared at Kazi, as if uncertain who stood before her.

“Every woman wants to be married and have children,” Daria finally said, securing her hurt behind a well-practiced mask. “It’s in our nature.”

“You’re delusional.” Kazi ignored Daria’s affronted glare. “Forget Mama’s teachings. They did nothing to help you, and she was wrong about most things.”

“Don’t disrespect the dead.”

“I didn’t respect her when she was alive. What’s the difference now?”

“Maybe Mama was right.” Daria sneered at her. “Your access to emotions died the day Papa did.”

Kazi opened her mouth—what to say, she wasn’t sure—but two loud knocks on the front door interrupted. A signal. It was a reminder of her third and final goal: to survive the rebel network.

Relations with the rebel network were new and difficult to navigate. Kazi was indebted to them. She owed them her life—and Daria and Neyti’s lives—and for that reason, she served the network’s needs. However, the network wasn’t a benevolent entity, and being indebted to its cause rattled Kazi more than she liked to admit. 

Typically, she avoided debts. They forced her into a compromising position, allowing someone the opportunity to control her. She preferred self-reliance to kindness, and when she did indebt herself, she always paid it back quickly. 

Her father believed it a question of honor and a true demonstration of character. Her mother took a more cynical approach: “To be in someone’s debt is to give them power over you,” she once told Kazi. “Only fools put themselves in such situations.”

Sometimes she wondered how her mother would have responded to the Purge. Would the Ennari matriarch humble her obstinance to secure a means for survival? 

Whatever her mother would have decided didn’t matter. Kazi sought the network’s aid, and now she owed them. So far, she had met Eluca’s five rebels, the cohort a tight-knit group. It was one of many belonging to the larger network slowly establishing a presence in the Outer Rim. 

Kazi rarely interacted within the cohort, receiving orders from Fehr or Bash, the network’s main contacts, and acted alone. But that morning, she received a comm from Fehr asking her to join an unexpected meeting. The message left her unsettled, and her arrival at the abandoned warehouse used for most meetings heightened her consternation. 

Some days, like that morning, she questioned if she was walking into a trap, wary of Imperial stormtroopers posed for her capture. Today, only the five other rebels were present. 

“My contact has informed me that three men want to establish a safehouse out of reach of the Empire,” Fehr said. A human woman at least twenty years Kazi’s senior and the owner of one of Hollow Town’s highest employed farms, Fehr preferred brusqueness to political coyness. It was something Kazi appreciated. “Their operations will be separate from ours.”

Carinthia, a data courier for Moff Harpy of Veridian Sector and a skilled identification and chip saboteur, narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “How do you mean?” 

“These men will be running rescue-and-relocate missions.” Fehr glanced across the five other members. “They’re former employees of the Empire.”  

Kazi pursed her lips, noting the discomfort of those around her. Bash, Head Treasurer of Eluca’s national bank and a well-respected member of the Elucan government, furrowed his brows. Lore and Sparks, married pilots, shared a skeptical look.

“Former employees of the Empire can’t be trusted,” Carinthia argued, her skin eerily pale in the warehouse’s shadows.

“We trust you,” Lore said casually.

Carinthia sneered. “I never worked for the Empire—”

“But your family—”

“Is of no importance.” Carinthia swiped her hand through the air. “How do we know we can trust these men?”

“The more important question is,” Kazi interrupted, irritated by Fehr’s lack of transparency, “who are these men? You say they’re former employees, but where did they work?”

“Former intelligence workers would be nice to have,” Sparks said. Lore nodded her agreement.

Fehr took a deep breath, black eyes settling on Kazi. “These men are former soldiers.”

Kazi tensed, an unwelcome burst of panic clogging the back of her throat. Fehr wouldn’t risk the dangers of— 

“They’re clones.”

In the silence that followed Fehr’s declaration, Kazi forced herself not to react. She bit her tongue until it hurt, controlling her features and ordering her panic to calm the fuck down. She could not appear incompetent nor afraid. 

But the panic in her chest was as sharp as an electric shock. Simultaneously heart-stopping and heart-quickening. 

“Clones are loyal to the Empire,” Bash said diplomatically. 

A silky voice imbued with a calm that complimented Fehr’s usual bluntness, Bash was a difficult person to read. With bronze skin and cunning silver eyes, he and Fehr were the sole rebels indigenous to Eluca. His position within the planetary government, as well as his contacts within the rebel network, made him the most important and powerful member of the cohort. 

To learn that Bash wasn’t aware of the clones’ arrival intrigued Kazi. Similar to the Empire’s backstabbing politicking, it seemed the rebel network didn’t share all their information with each of its contacts. Kazi tucked away the information. 

“We can’t trust them,” Bash continued.

“Be reasonable, Fehr,” Carinthia said, her smile wan. “Clone allegiance is to whichever government is in control.”

Fehr straightened, and though her tone was collected, it was lined with an edge that could cut. “These men have denounced their allegiances—”

“And their allegiances could switch again.” Sparks shook his head. Even the adventurous pilot was hesitant. “If you need an example: look at the Republic.”

Agreement swept through the small group. But Fehr was staunch in her decision. 

“The clones are operating a rescue-and-relocate mission. Our paths will rarely cross, and they won’t be working planetside.” Fehr stared them down, her glare unapologetic. 

Shortly after, the meeting dissolved. Kazi made to leave but Fehr motioned for her and Carinthia to stay, the latter throwing a perplexed look at Kazi. The moment Bash left, his eyes narrowed in skepticism, Fehr faced the two women.  

“There’s more about the clones that I didn’t share with the cohort,” Fehr said. “The clones will be staying planetside.”

To her annoyance, Kazi noticed Carinthia studying her. They were similar in age, and yet their backgrounds were vastly different. Carinthia hailed from a wealthy family that lived in the Inner Rim, and her shrewd personality bordered conniving. 

“They need somewhere spacious to make their base. Somewhere far enough away from the city where they can easily hide.” Fehr squared her shoulders and stared Kazi in the eye. “I offered the men the basement.”

Kazi blinked, uncertain if she had heard correctly. 

“The basement…” Her voice hitched and she cleared her throat. “You want the clones to stay in the basement. At the house where I’m living.”

Fehr nodded.

Her hands started to tremble and Kazi clenched her jaw. Clenched it so hard she thought it might break. 

“The clones are the reason I’m on this damned planet, Fehr.” The strain in her voice was palpable but she didn’t care. Fehr was the sole rebel she considered somewhat benevolent, and this new information was a betrayal she wasn’t prepared for. “Have you forgotten that?”

“I haven’t,” Fehr said calmly. Too calmly. “But these men deserted. They don’t serve the Empire and they need a place to stay. I considered one of the apartments in town but people will be curious and could start talking. The house is an ideal location.”

The house, not your house. 

Because the house didn’t belong to Kazi. It belonged to Fehr who had gifted it to her when she first arrived on Eluca, homeless and penniless. 

The memory still rankled her. Her pride cringed at her forced reliance on another person. Her chagrin was further heightened by her financial helplessness. Years of frugality, investments, and savings were made obsolete by the rise of the Empire. 

“It’s not that awful, Kazi,” Carinthia said. “The house is large. Large enough for you three to survive cohabitation with a few clones.”

Before Kazi could respond, Fehr raised her hand. “I know your history with the clones isn’t ideal. And if you’re uncomfortable—” Carinthia released a derisive scoff that had Kazi tensing. Fehr shot the younger woman a hard look. “If it’s too much, I can look at other locations. But the basement—”

“Is ideal,” Carinthia cut in. “It’s large enough, and it connects to the communications tower. I assume that’s a necessity for them.” Carinthia twirled a crimson curl around a finger, her expression contemplative. “Eluca’s proximity to a well-plotted hyperlane, and the surgent of Imperial military bases across Veridian Sector and the Outer Rim, at large, make this planet the most effective base.”

Fehr nodded, her attention returning to a still-silent Kazi. “It’s your choice.”

Except it wasn’t. Not really. The house wasn’t even in her name—an attempt to protect her sister and Neyti. To prevent Imperial officials looking into their sudden immigration and ambiguous history. 

It was an older yet well-maintained home settled in a forgotten neighborhood five kilometers from Hollow’s Town. The neighborhood stood empty except for two other houses located a kilometer away. 

Built a century prior in the midst of a planetary civil war, the basement served as a bomb shelter. One of four designated for the neighborhood. Fortified by duracrete and buried deep in Eluca’s soil, the basement housed five bedrooms with ten bunks each, three refreshers equipped with full amenities, and a war room dedicated to military strategy. The war room was still wired to the communication tower in the capital. The only communication tower available for public use in Veridian Sector with consistent and reliable access to the Mid and Inner Rims. 

Kazi had visited the basement once. The darkness, and the knowledge that hundreds of tons of dirt could easily bury her, convinced her never to return. It was the ideal location for rescue-and-relocate missions. Which irked her.

“It’s fine.” She clasped her hands behind her back. She was indebted to Fehr, anyway. “We can make it work.”

Three more knocks, rapid and quieter, followed the first two. The completion of the signal. Kazi followed Daria through the kitchen and toward the front door, her body tensed to a point of pain. Anxiety itched her skin, like thousands of ants crawling along her spine and burrowing in her hair. 

She opened the door and then retreated a safe distance. Fehr stepped into the small entryway. Behind her, three males followed. Dark gray ponchos hid their upper bodies and hoods cast their faces in shadows. 

Kazi schooled her features into insouciance. One of the few benefits of etiquette lessons: she could control her expression. For the most part. 

Rain frizzed Fehr’s ebony hair and the older woman patted her braids, nodding at Kazi. She scanned the kitchen behind the two sisters. “Is Neyti—”

“Asleep.” Her tone was curt and she ignored Daria’s disapproving scowl. 

The older woman chuckled. “School must have been exhausting if she can sleep in this weather.”

“The thunder was louder back—” Well, it didn’t matter. 

Silence ensued, eclipsed by the echoing thunder and the rain from the clones’ ponchos dripping onto the hardwood floor. Ever the dutiful host, Daria stepped forward, her smile practiced kindness and warmth. 

The ease in her sister’s friendliness was a point of jealousy for Kazi. Growing up, she yearned to exude the same gentleness Daria effortlessly managed. She never perfected it. 

“Welcome,” Daria said. She gestured to Kazi. “We made up three of the beds downstairs and stocked the fridge with extra food.”

It was a lie. Kazi didn’t shop for the food—only Daria—and she didn’t make the beds. She lugged the sheets and pillow cases from the upstairs closet to the basement but she refused to make a bed for a grown adult. 

The clone to the left stepped forward and removed his hood. Beneath the dimmed lights in the entryway his skin was dark brown and his eyes even darker. A white scar threaded itself from his temple to his cheek. Black hair was trimmed precisely, long enough to run a hand through. He looked to be a year or two older than Kazi. Possibly twenty-eight.

“That was generous of you,” the clone said. He gestured to the two other clones. “We’re grateful for this.”

A blush darkened Daria’s cheeks and Kazi almost rolled her eyes. Her sister extended her hand and the clone accepted it. “I’m Daria, and this is my sister, Kazi.”

Kazi didn’t step forward; she didn’t offer her hand. She merely nodded. The clone assessed her for a moment, his eyes flitting from her face to Daria’s, probably noting their differences. 

Trained for society, Daria carried herself with an easy elegance. Her hair was honeyed and loosely curled. The green of her eyes was darker than the jungle after a rain shower. Hours gardening over the years had softened the curves of her body.

Unlike her sister, years of swimming left Kazi with an athletic and toned build. A body type undesired by high society Ceaian males, as she was told, repeatedly, by her instructors. 

And even though she attended the same finishing classes as Daria, she never mastered her sister’s posh demeanor. She was well-mannered and polite, but she spoke with a bluntness considered too judgmental, further heightened by the darkness of her eyes with their slashes of hazel. 

“Like a bird of prey,” her instructor for Poise and Deportment once complained to her mother.

Her mother considered her with a critical eye, and Kazi steeled herself. “I would counter: sunlight in a meadow.”  

It was one of the rare times her mother complimented her, and it had stuck with her the last seven years. To this day, her eyes remained her favorite feature.

A throat cleared and Fehr glanced at her chrono. “Kazi, Daria, let me introduce you to former commanders Cody, Wolffe, and Fox.” 

Kazi’s heart faltered. 

Commanders. The clones weren’t just soldiers. They were fucking commanders.

She shot Fehr a baleful glare. The older woman’s gaze was already on her face, and imperceptibly, she dipped her chin, acknowledgement and confirmation of Kazi’s unspoken accusation. 

The woman had known all along the clones were former commanders. She had known and had refused to mention it. 

If the situation hadn’t affected her life, Kazi would have admired Fehr’s sly play. Instead, she ignored the woman, fisting her hands tightly behind her back to hide their trembling.

The two other clones removed their ponchos. Kazi tried not to stare but the rumors were true. They were identical. Except for a few distinctive traits.

The one on the right—Commander Fox—bore a scar on his chin; his hair was similarly styled to Commander Cody’s. At her perusal, the clone arched a brow. His eyes swept across her face, in both assessment and curiosity. 

She moved her gaze to the last one. Commander Wolffe.  

He was observing her with a neutrally-controlled countenance. Narrowed eyes. Rigid shoulders. Calculated expression. 

Kazi recognized the look in his face—the subtle wariness and hardened reticence. It was the same shrewdness she practiced. One she relied on to determine genuine from disingenuous; trustworthy from unreliable. 

Emphasizing the guarded calculation in his gaze was a stark white scar. Like a bolt of lightning, it seared the skin above his right eye and slashed down to his cheek. Whatever had torn his skin must have ruined his eye, for a silver cybernetic sat in his socket.

“I have business to attend to,” Fehr said, drawing Kazi’s attention away from her analysis. The lack of explanation and the urgency in Fehr’s tone warned Kazi the ‘business’ was network-related.

Once the darkness of night swallowed Fehr’s form, Daria showed the clones to the basement. Surreptitiously hidden behind a white bookcase bereft of personable touches other than a dragon figurine and a few succulents Daria had purchased the last few weeks, the staircase to the basement was dimly lit by a buttery-yellow light. The stairs descended into a blackness thicker than the ocean’s surface on a moonless night.

Few words were exchanged. Kazi didn’t bother with false pleasantries, she left it to Daria, and soon the basement door swung back in place. The bookcase rested snugly against the white wall. Even the most observant soldier would overlook the entrance’s location.

“They seem…nice,” Daria said, shifting the pot of a vibrant blue succulent. “You could have been more inviting.”

“Why?” Kazi gave her sister a condescending smile. “Are you wanting to match me with one of them?” 

“Kazi.” Daria released an exasperated sigh. “I’m trying to help you prepare—”

“I don’t need your help. And I certainly don’t want it.” 

“Fine.” Dabbing at her forehead, Daria sniffed. “I’m sorry for caring.”

Kazi snorted. “Caring? Is that what you call this nagging?”

“I do care.” Daria started to tremble. “I have always cared and—” She cut off, pressing a palm to her temple, her face screwed in pain.

Kazi reached for Daria’s shoulder, her stomach dipping with concern. But her sister backed away. The dismissal silent yet resoundingly loud. Louder than the thunder rattling the old windowpanes. Her hand fell to her side; she tried to ignore the guilt bittering her mouth. 

Lifting her chin, Daria smoothed the fabric of her pale purple dress. She looked Kazi over once, disappointment thinning her lips, and then made her way toward the staircase opposite the bookcase. The old stairs creaked beneath her labored pace.

The moment her sister’s door clicked shut, Kazi collapsed on the bottom step, rubbing her temples. 

She didn’t want the clones here. Hell, she didn’t want to be here. On this planet. In this fucking house.

It was too much. 

Daria’s disease.

Neyti’s adoption.

Spying for the network.

Three clone commanders.

A disappointment. Incompetent. Indebted. Possibly endangered.

She looked out the kitchen windows toward a clearing sky. Eluca’s three moons peeked through the clouds like a child peering through a curtain. The urge to run—to ignore all of her problems, to avoid the responsibility—hit her. 

But she couldn’t run. Not this time. 

Masterlist | Chapter 2

A/N: Next chapter release – January 11th

Pronunciations:

Kazi Ennari: kah-zee ; uh-nar-ee Daria: dar-ee-uh  Neyti: nay-tea Fehr: fare Eluca: eh-look-ah (emphasis on first syllable)  Ceaia: say-ee-uh (emphasis on second syllable)

#I Year and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe #oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe x ofc #star wars fanfiction #commander wolffe fanfiction

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life in the City 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: A brief reprieve from the snakish prince.

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

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You nurse your glass of wine. You're not much of a drinker, you mostly brought it for Melanie. Despite her agitation, she seems to be enjoying it. She snuggles up to Clark as you sit awkwardly at the other end of the couch.

You really shouldn't be here. The longer you sit in silence and pretend to care about the movie, the more you think of leaving. You definitely crashed their party and they're not being very subtle.

You reach for a handful of popcorn to busy yourself. The crunch blocks out Melanie's shameless whispers. She doesn't get much back but she doesn't give up. You can't find an exit plan that isn't completely obvious.

Finally, she quiets down upon getting a grunt from Clark. She nestles against him and rests her head on his shoulder as he drapes an arm over her. You can't help the pang of loneliness. You're not jealous, it's just been a while since you had someone to snuggle aside from your stuffed hippo.

You sit back as you swallow down the last of the kernels with a swig of wine. You put the wine glass on the glass coaster Melanie kept reminding you of. As the evening sets in, the room is only lit with the glow of the television. The haze of colours and alcohol itches on your eyelids.

You yawn and plant your elbow on the armrest, leaning into it as you tilt your head. Your lashes close, only for a moment before you twitch. You feel a tickle on your hip. You lift your head slightly and peer down from the corner of your vision.

Is he... touching you? Maybe it's a mistake or he doesn't realise he's doing it. You freeze, mortified. You should clear your throat or move or something...

You can't. His fingertips brush down your thigh and back up it, lingering just along the curve of your ass. You reach for your wine and he rescinds his hand, curling his arm around Melanie as she gives a delighted moan.

What was that? You're overthinking this. He probably thought it was her. Somehow. You're not sure. He's a nice guy, a stranger still, he wouldn't just touch you.

You drain the last of your wine and stand up, "just gonna pop into the bathroom."

"Whatever," Melanie dismisses as she rubs Clark's chest. 

You don't look at him but you swear you can feel his gaze on you. You circle around the back of the couch and find your way to the bathroom. You close yourself in and shake the jitters from your nerves.

You're tired and you don't know if it even happened. You've been drinking and maybe just maybe you're a little tipsy. Well, at least the movie is almost done. You can try to catch the last bus or turn in for the night if Melanie lets you have the couch.

You get yourself together and go back out. As you near the couch, Melanie and Clark quickly part, their sloppy kiss ending in a pop. You try not to give away your discomfort and resume your seat, pressing yourself against the armrest as small as you can.

"I'm getting tired, sweetie," Melanie whines.

"The movie's not done," his voice is rocky and low.

"I've seen it," she pouts.

"Well, I haven't. If you want to lay down, I'll be in when it's over," he says coolly but not unkindly.

"You can finish it tomorrow," she simpers.

"Hon, you got a friend here," he reminds her, "don't be rude."

He looks at you and sends you a smile you barely glimpse as you shy away.

"I never even invited her," she hisses under her breath.

"Go to bed, Mel," he retorts, his timbre steady, "you've had too much wine."

"I haven't had enough," she snarls.

"Honey," he softens his tone, "remember what we talked about."

She's quiet as she stares at him. You can only see the back of her head. She sniffs and leans in to kiss his cheek, "sure, sweetie, I'll be in bed..." she stands, tickling his jawline, "waiting for you.”

You give a sheepish ‘good night’ but she doesn't answer, or even look your way. You dip your chin down, embarrassed by her indifference and turn your focus back to the television. Well, not much longer and you can hide in the dark and wait for morning.

Clark bends forward to take the bowl of popcorn off the table. He sits back and offers you some as he sidles a bit closer. You shake your hand and murmur, “no thanks.” All the salt and butter is already curdling in your tummy.

He shoves a few kernels in his mouth and chews as he watches the screen. You don't enjoy it as much now. Your nostalgia sears away as the tension rises between you and him. The kiss that should be a resolution is suddenly awkward and cringe worthy.

“So,” he swallows, “how long have you known Melanie?”

His voice is like thunder in the lull. You rub your arm, his shadow lurking at the edge of your eye line as you keep your head straight. You clear your throat, “for a while… since high school.”

“Oh, wow, she never mentioned you,” he says, “what's that like ten years or something.”

“About that,” you answer. 

“I mean, don't know why it wouldn't have come up. A friend who brings snacks? That's the best kind,” he puts the popcorn down and grabs one of the coloured napkins to wipe his fingertips.

“Um, I stayed… back in our hometown. Went to school in the next city but lived at home so… just moved here to see what it's really like,” you shrug.

“Oh, just got here? How are you liking it?”

“It's… blurry,” you chuckle nervously. Didn't he want to see the end? He's talking over the whole thing.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he stretches his arm across the back of the couch as he reclines. He sets his knees wide as his hand rests just behind your head. “I grew up on a farm. When I got here, I was so lost.”

“A farm?”

“Oh, yeah, big wake up call, but there's not much fodder for journalism in a field,” he snorts.

“Right, you're a journalist?”

“Sure am, with The Daily Planet. Little magazine you may have heard of.”

You blanch and nearly slap yourself, “Daily Planet? Clark… Kent?”

“Ha, so you've heard of me.”

“Yeah, uh, I…” you pause. He's older than you expected but you're not surprised. Melanie always had a type. “I wrote a review of your work in my undergrad.”

“You did?” He sounds amused as he leans a bit closer.

“Sure, well, we had to choose a contemporary writer…”

“I'm flattered. You did journalism?”

“Not exactly, it was just one class,” you wilt into the armrest.

“So what do you do?”

“Well, not what I studied,” you sigh, “I work a desk job. Data analysis.”

“Riveting stuff,” he kids and nudges you playfully when you don't laugh. “You know, Mel never mentioned she grew up in a small town. She always just seemed like she was from around here.”

“Uh, yeah, well, she hated the place so…” you scratch your chin as the hest crawls up your face. “How long have you and her, er, been dating?”

“Well, three months officially. Before were were just ‘having fun’,”he brings his hands up to curl his fingers in quotation, “that's what she called it anyway.”

“Oh, well uh, she seems to really like you,” you utter dumbly.

“Yeah, I think so,” his smirk is laced in his tone.

The room goes completely quiet and suddenly the drum track begins. You watch the credits roll as Clark faces the television. He laughs, “oops, guess I wasn't paying attention.”

He drags his arm from the back of the couch as he stands, his hand grazing your shoulder. He stretches and you notice the hem of his shirt lift, a peek of his muscled stomach above the elastic of his sweatpants. You quickly dart your eyes in the other direction. 

“I should… go check on her, but can I get you anything? Water? Help dilute the wine?” He offers.

“Er, well, no, I can get some myself. I’d hate to infringe–”

“Well, I wouldn’t ask if it was a problem,” he says.

“Really, it’s fine, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

He nods and glances towards the hall, “you know, it didn’t bother me having you here. I’m sorry about her.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know she forgot. She’s done it to me too. Before we were… official,” he says the last word with punctuated syllables.

“Oh, I’m sorry–”

“See, it’s not that hard to apologise so, I’ll make sure she does,” he interjects, “and I’ll let you settle down. It’s late and I’m sure you’re exhausted. Coming all the way here after work. You really went out of your way and I had a great night. Thanks.”

“Er, yeah, sure,” you murmur, “thanks for… joining in.”

He reluctantly leaves you as you watch him with bated breath. You’re so frigging awkward. You wait until you hear the bedroom door shut before you get up, taking the wine glass with you.

You go to the kitchen and rinse out the glass, refilling it with fresh water. You bring it back to the living room and move a pillow against the armrest, pulling down the fluffy throw onto the cushions. You shut off the television and tuck yourself in, the blanket too short, even for you.

What a lame Friday night. You could’ve had more fun alone.

🌆

It takes a bit for you to even feel tired. Your body is achy and sore but your mind is racing. Finally, you manage to close your eyes for more than a few minutes. You roll over to face the back of the couch and nestle into the pillow. You yawn as you feel yourself drifting.

A high pitch leaks into your ears. You twitch and your lashes flutter. It’s just the pipes or a siren somewhere in the distance. The city sure is loud. You hear it again, something more akin to a squeak.

You shift onto your back as your stomach tingles. You cover your face with your arm and try to ignore the irritating sound but it just doesn’t stop. Your eyes snap open as you rip your arm off your head, realising what it is.

The soft low growls in return, the steady tap against the wall… it’s not the pipes or a siren. It’s Melanie. And Clark. They’re… 

You flip the pillow over your head and bend your arm around it, blocking out the noise. Just when you think you can’t get any lower. You’ve been there before. The third wheel, the wing woman. High school was just you standing against the wall as Melanie made out with boys at a party you weren’t even invited to.

Maybe things haven’t changed that much. Maybe it’s that you didn’t see what was right in front of you. The one friend you thought you had, forgets you just like everyone else. This whole thing was a mistake. Moving to the city just so you can be her tag-along.

You wallow in your self-pity and sink down into your unconscious. The world slips away from you as your dreams ripples with muddy colours. You feel as if you're floating, bobbing on soft waves, disoriented and dazed.

You wake to the clink of glass. You groan as your head aches, the cushions stiff and unforgiving. Your neck is knotted just above your shoulders. You rub your cheek and stay as you are, still under the pillow as you get your bearings. You remember where you are and cling to the dregs of sleep in your eye.

Cool air tinges your skin, your leg hooked over the blanket. You hug the crumpled throw as the night seeps icily though your pajamas. The thin short set speckled in the little red hearts offer little warmth. You reach back to pull the shorts to your thigh as it rides up and tilt onto your back.

As you do, you sense a shadow over you. You peek under the slits of your eyelids and see a figure standing just a few feet from the other end of the couch. Long breaths blow into the air. It’s too large to be Melanie. It’s him. Is he watching you?

You can’t move. You’re paralysed in horror. Why is he just standing there? Goosebumps raise on your skin. You feel a whisper against your hip where he touched you earlier. It just can’t be that. He’s too nice.

You don’t know what to do so you close your eyes and lay completely still. You measure your breath as you wait. There’s a soft thunk as he sets down a glass on the table by the armrest and walks up the side of the couch.

Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move…

He tugs on the throw and spreads it over you as best he can. His fingers drag up your arm and he lingers, stroking your cheek as you resist the urge to pull away. He lets out a low growl and lumbers away, swiping up his glass as he goes.

You let your eyes open and catch a glimpse of his silhouette. His back is bare and thickly corded. The moonlight limns his muscles just before he disappears into the hall. You shudder as you release the heavy breath from your chest.

The bedroom door snaps shut as you clutch the blanket tight. It starts again. Melanie’s moans, Clark’s grunts, and the knocking of the bed frame. Quicker than before, almost furious. You just want this night to end.

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent x oc #thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #life in the city #dcu #dc #superman #avengers #mcu #marvel #au

[maddstermind]

Hey there, howdy, hello! Welcome to my writeblr that I am going to try real hard to be active on!

I'm Madd, they/them, and while I might not post it all here, I am a very active writer hoping for publication in the near future! I'm hoping to become part of the community, so feel free to tag me in things/shoot me asks/anything of the sort!! I'd love more writer friends :>

(Also, this is a sideblog! My main is warriorblood1, so if you get random follows/likes from that account, that's me!)

Want to know more details? Keep reading!

What do you write? I write all kinds of things! I have ideas in honestly too many genres and whatnot at this point, and I hope to someday write them all!

Right now, however, I have two main focuses: spooky short stories, and a novel series! (Though I do have a couple other novel things.)

Tell me about the short stories. My short stories tend to be 3k to 5k on average, and most wind up being horror or horror-adjacent. I tend to describe them as being "Twilight Zone-esque," but most would fit as being called gothic horror.

I have previously published some short stories, but my full legal name is on them so I hesitate to link them here. Regardless, I hope to publish a collection sometime soon!

Tell me about the novel series. Auberon Academy is a four-novel series told through a rotating POV of four main characters. It is a fantasy setting (though a bit more modern fantasy; more or less 1950s tech-wise), but the plot is more of a mystery/thriller.

I'm querying the first novel and have the first draft of the second one finished, and am now starting to draft the third book! You can learn more about the first book, Manifestations and the Missing, here in this funny slideshow I made. Update: Here's a slideshow for book two, In Pursuit of Knowledge!

What do you do besides writing? Not much. Just kidding.

I'm bad at video games, but I love to play them. A favorite hobby of mine is tabletop role-playing games, my favorites being Call of Cthulhu, Blackbirds, Dungeons & Dragons, and Vampire: The Masquerade! I also love to draw, and several of my story ideas are actually comics!

But lets be honest. Torturing my characters (canonically or otherwise) is my favorite thing to do. What kind of writer would I be if I said anything different?

How do you tag things?

General writing: #madd writing

Prompts: #prompt response

Tag games: #tag game

Ask games: #ask game

Asks: #questions

Resources: #holding

Short story work: #short story

Novel work: #novel work

Auberon Academy-specifc: #boberon

Soulbearer-specific: #sogbog

DIIE-specific: #DIIE

Conspiracy Gang-specific: #nerdy prudes

My art: #madd doodles

Other writeblr-related things: #writeblr stuff

Also, this post has the list of character tags for Auberon!

I'll also try to tag anything that feels like it should warrant a trigger warning!

Anything else to note? I'm very nervous about posting my work to Tumblr (fear of theft really gets to you), but I'm trying to overcome it. That being said, you might not see too terribly much of it here - if you're really interested, please reach out to me! I'd most likely be happy to share more on a more private level.

Also, I have ADHD! I tend to hyperfixate on my own work (which is a nightmare but also useful), but if you're ever confused by something. That's probably why.

Thanks for being here, y'all!

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #original writing #creative writing #writeblr intro #writeblr stuff #i hope this is decent lmao

[late-to-the-party-81]

Shut up and drive

AN: My darling @krissy25 asked for reader watching Bucky give Steve road-head, so I thought I would continue with our trio from ‘In the middle of the night’.

Un-beta'd so probably commas all over the shop. Dividers by @firefly-graphics, moodboard and banner by me

Main Master list | Challenge Master list 

Summary: The morning after the night before, and you and the supersoldiers have hit the road. A silly conversation between you and Bucky leads to him demonstrating one of the ways he keeps Steve frustration-free while on the move.

Relationship: Stucky x Agent Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

CW: Cheeky Bucky, Needy Steve, Slight Dom Steve, Dirty Talk, Blow Jobs, Implied P in V Sex, Implied future blow jobs

You relaxed against the cushions of the back seat of the car as it sped down the near empty road. Despite the fact that you’d taken part in a lot of ‘acrobatics’ last night, you were surprisingly refreshed and ache free. You sighed in contentment and heard the creak of the leather passenger seat as Bucky turned to look at you.

“You enjoying yourself back there, doll? You look like the cat that got the cream.”

You snorted at his unintentional double-entendre.

“Bucky!”

“Well you did get a lot of it.”

You couldn’t stop your giggle, especially when he waggled his eyebrows at you.

“Sorry, Bucky. Did I steal your share?” Your voice was laced with faux-concern.

“I’m sure I’ll live.” You enjoyed your banter with Bucky, even before the shift in your relationship.

Steve tutted from the driver’s seat. “Do you two have to be so immature?” You knew it was a front, you could see the corners of his mouth twitching. You leaned forward and ruffled his hair.

“Aaaawww, is Stevie feeling a little frustrated this morning?”

“He shouldn’t be! Punk got more than enough last night. But then again…..” he brought his hand up to his mouth as though he was about to spill a big secret, but then stage-whispered to you. “His record is 12 times in one night. He slept for almost two days afterwards, though.”

“Buck! We don’t want to scare her.”

“Don’t worry, Cap. You haven’t. I get tired, I just tag in my partner, right Bucky?”

The brunet gave you a mischievous smile.

“What if we’re both working you, doll?”

Tilting your head to the side, you pressed your index finger up to your lips in thought.

“Then I guess I’d just expire in the best way possible. ‘Fucked to death by supersoldier lovers.’ That’s what the headline would say. I’d be the envy of folk the world over.”

You all started laughing then, and you couldn’t remember when you’d last felt so carefree. You knew reality would kick in at some point, but for now it was just the three of you and the open road. And it gave you time to indulge in your latest hobby; teasing Steve. You couldn’t pinpoint why it was so much fun, but it probably had something to do with the way he blushed so prettily and shifted in embarrassment, until he finally snapped and became all assertive. 

“So, Bucky… tell me. How often have you had to…umm… ‘help’ Stevie out in unusual places. I’m guessing it happens a lot if he’s constantly horny?”

“I’m right here, you know!”

“Ssh, Steve. Doll-face asked me a question. You concentrate on driving and not crashing.”

Steve let out a harrumph, but you knew he wasn’t really put out.

“So… let me think. To be honest it’s happened a few times. In the quinjet… in Tony’s lab… hell, in a half collapsed building at the end of a battle…”

You chuckled as you watched the blush creep further and further up the back of Steve’s neck at Bucky’s words.

“Even given him road-head on more than one occasion.”

You looked at Bucky, askance. 

“Road-head?”

Bucky had his trade-mark shit-eating grin on his face.

“Yeah, punk here loves the thrill of getting his cock sucked while driving.”

“Bucky…” There was tension in Steve’s voice, like he was trying to hold himself back from either punching his boyfriend, kissing him or both. Bucky shifted his attention from you to Steve and, if it was at all possible, his grin got even wider.

“Well, would you look at that? Lil’ Stevie appears to be wanting to put on a demonstration right here and now.”

You peaked over Steve’s shoulder, to gaze upon the impressive bulge inside his pants.

“Wow, it doesn’t take a lot to get you going, does it? You gonna let Bucky give me a demonstration?”

You scratched your nails into the short hairs at the base of his skull causing his eyelids to flutter momentarily and a salacious moan to leave his mouth.

“Please…” The word tumbled from his lips, full of desire, and he shifted in his seat.

Another chuckle emanated from Bucky as he leant across and started to work the fastening on Steve’s pants.

“What you’re gonna see here doll, is Stevie starting off all sweet and needy, but I guarantee by the time he cums he will have gone feral.” 

Steve’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, making the leather cover creak, as Bucky pulled out his erect cock and licked his own lips in anticipation.

“Enjoy the show, doll.” Bucky winked at you, before leaning forward into Steve’s lap. You shuffled in your seat to get a better view, and what a view it was.

Last night the two supersoldiers had been more focused on you than each other. Yes, they’d kissed and touched each other during your threeway romp, but this was much more intimate. Bucky’s right hand was gripped around the base of Steve’s cock, gently jerking it. His plump, pink lips were suckling around the tip, his tongue swirling around to coat it in saliva. Steve’s breath had picked up, and he was staring ahead out the windshield of the car, as if by not looking at what Bucky was doing to him he could maintain some semblance of control.

However, when Bucky inched down Steve’s length, engulfing him fully, the blond couldn’t help but react. He dropped one hand from the steering wheel to tangle in his boyfriend's hair, and let out a sigh.

“Bucky…BuckyBuckyBucky. Love your mouth, sweetheart. God! Feel so good. You’re so good…”

For a moment you felt as though you were intruding, but then Steve let go of Bucky’s hair to reach back, take hold of your hand, and place it where his had been. You heard Bucky moan as your slimmer fingers twisted in his locks and a wave of heat washed over you.

“Feel what he’s doing, doll. He might go on and on about how needy I am, how, it’s me who’s constantly wanting him, but what he doesn’t say is how much he loves doing this. He’s a slut for my cock, always wanting to feel it. Always desperate to please me and make me cum. Fuck! Just like that, honey.”

You couldn’t tear your gaze away, watching how Bucky bobbed up and down Steve’s full length without any issue, an amazing feat considering how much he was working with. And it was clear that Bucky loved doing this; his own free hand was rubbing against his own pants, massaging his cock through the fabric, and he kept letting out little moans and whines. 

It had almost slipped your mind that Steve was somehow still driving through all of this, but then he suddenly pulled off the road, onto the dirt and gravel at the side. His large hand came down over yours on Bucky’s head and he started to thrust his own hips up.

“Gonna cum, Buck. Gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours. And you’re gonna take it all for me, ain’tcha?”

The ache between your legs had intensified, and you were sure even your pants were going to be sodden, having a front row seat to this pornographic show. Bucky let out a garbled noise, and Steve came with a shout, his hips locked in an upward position, his head leaning back on the head rest. Your gaze flicked back and forth between his face, with its expression of ecstasy, and his lap, where you could see Bucky, eyes closed, swallowing down all the cum being pumped into his throat, with a look of pure bliss.

For a moment, the loudest sound was that of Steve’s breathing, combined with the car engine idling. You were running your fingers through both of the guys’ hair, gently petting them as they recovered. When Bucky finally let Steve’s cock go, he came back up with a grin on his face. Turning in his seat he gripped your chin with his right hand, drawing you to him for a brief, filthy kiss, before turning to kiss his boyfriend, which you really couldn’t complain about. But you were now horribly aroused, and rubbed your thighs together to relieve some pressure.

“Looks like you and Buck are both in a situation now, eh sweetheart?”

Steve’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at you, and you felt heat spreading up into your cheeks under his gaze.

“And I know just what to do about it, punk.” 

You were momentarily confused until Bucky moved. He opened his door, hopped out and then opened the rear door next to, slid in and slammed it closed.

If you’d been slightly disappointed by the briefness of your previous kiss, there was nothing to worry about for this next one. It was though Bucky was trying to consume you. You were both panting when he broke the kiss, and you surprised yourself with the little mewl of want that passed your kiss swollen lips.

“What are you planning, jerk?” Steve had twisted in his seat, looking at the pair of you with a raised brow.

Bucky pulled you to straddle his lap and spoke over your shoulder. 

“Shut up and drive, pal. I’m gonna sort out our girl, and then when we swap drivers at the next rest stop you can taste her on me when you return the road-head favour.”

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @talia-rumlow @peaches1958

#stucky #stucky x you #stucky x reader #jen's 1k follower celebration #jen's 1k challenge #krissy ❤️

[infinityinakiss]

I know we're all devastated about this, but there are things we can still do. Maybe we won't be able to get the show saved or renewed, but we can still cause massive tidal waves that makes sure this doesn't happen to future sapphic shows and stop this cycle of cancelling shows prematurely. But we have to at least try. Here's what you can do:

- Use the hashtag #SaveWarriorNun on apps like Instagram and Twitter. I know we all hate the bird app right now, but we're not going to be heard on any other apps. When you're tweeting make sure to include words or images and don't use more than three hashtags. Always check the spelling of the tag (we really don't need #SaveWarrionNun trending)

- Sign the petition, please. We're already at 50k signatures. Send it to all your friends.

- There is a request show form on the Netflix website. Request Warrior Nun season 3. There are similar forms on other streaming platform, like Hulu, and you can request to save Warrior Nun.

- Cancel Netflix. They don't deserve any more of your money, and there are other platforms you can use. One of the reasons Netflix will just straight up cancel shows is because they get new subscriptions because of the show and then they won't make another season because it costs more money. They'll then put that money towards a new show that they'll probably end up cancelling. We need to make this a bigger loss than a gain. If you really can't live without Netflix, then just cancel it for a couple weeks. We just need them to see a sudden drop in subscription numbers.

- Call the Netflix help center and file a complaint about the cancellation. I know talking to customer service can be stressful, but the calls get registered as complaints and is one of the best ways to reach Netflix directly.

- Stay salty at Netflix. Tank their rating on the app store and other websites by writing reviews. Let’s make sure everyone knows that Netflix will cancel shows before you get a chance to fall in love with it.

- Make noise. There have been a ton of articles questioning the reasoning for the cancellation, especially since Netflix hasn't put out anything official. Reach out to your favorite youtube channels and media outlets, and ask them to do a video or article about Warrior Nun and the cancellation of shows.

I love this fandom so much. You have fought for this show like nothing I've ever seen before. The holy war is nowhere near over, but it's okay if you're tired. If you need to take a break and focus on yourself for a bit, then please take care of yourself. At the end of the day, your mental health is most important thing. But if there is anything on this list that you can do, I'll really appreciate it. :)

In this life, or the next.

#save warrior nun #cancel netflix #renew warrior nun #wlw #sapphic #lgbtq #lesbian pride #bisexual #warrior nun #clexa #wynonna earp #wynhaught #wenclair #netflix #sense 8 #lucifer #avatrice #thasmin #gay #wlw shows #queer shows

[witchersoldier]

Stars He Hung || part two

azriel x fem!reader

PART ONE PART THREE

SUMMARY: He hung the stars for you. Then he made you cry them all.

WARNINGS: (+16) first person pov, angst, suicidal thoughts, unrequited love, more angst, probably bad writing.

WORD COUNT: +1200

Author's Note: I feel like I rushed into this one and it ended up more of a filler chapter than super important part of the story. It's not as good as I thought it'd be. But more is to come, hopefully faster than part two came. This was not proofread. Also sorry if I forget to tag anyone, I suck at this posting fics thing

tag list: @clara-geekhime

@yakoxshadow

@feysandzoyalailover

@tell-me-a-poem

•••

“Y/N sweetheart, are you awake?” someone knocked on my bedroom door, asking for me with a soothing voice. Barely awaken and already had a hammering headache, the consequences of crying myself to numbness hitting stronger than ever. I sat up on the bed, stretching my legs and arms. “Who is it?” I asked in between yawning. Slowly walking to the mirror placed above my dresser, I saw my reflection and the remaining golden stains on my face and neck. “It’s me, Feyre. Can I come in?” shit, I thought. I must have cried more after washing my face last night, when I thought I had calmed down. “Just a moment, please.” I responded while running to the bathroom sink to wash my face as fast as I could. Just before opening the door, I noticed my face wasn’t the only thing stained with golden tears, my pillow was too. Extending a hand towards the pillow, shiny purple tendrils of light seeped from me and reached to turn the messy side down.

Opening the door when everything seemed in order, Feyre’s big blue eyes greeted me, a sympathetic smile matching her doe eyes. “I won’t beat around the bush, so please, let’s sit down so we can talk.” She asked, worry in her voice. “Feyre, I appreciate your concern, really. But everything’s fine, you don’t have to worry.” I tried to assure her, but she just ignored my words and took my hand in hers, leading me to the lilac armchairs I had by the window, near the bookshelf-covered wall. Sitting down, I stared at her for quite some time before she spoke, “I talked with Amren earlier, about what I saw last night.” The words were carefully said to me, she knows it’s a touchy subject and I know that what she found about my condition is not going to be good news. “How bad is it?” I want nothing more than to be over with this conversation, so I can go back to the never ending self-pity cycle. “It’s a disease called Star Tear, caused by-” she paused, taking in a long breath before announcing “It’s caused by unrequited love.” I saw pain and confusion in Feyre’s eyes, it hurt her to tell me about this. Which is totally understandable, I’d hurt too, if I had to tell my best friend the fae she’s hopelessly in love with doesn’t reciprocate her feelings. But why is there confusion in her? Everything is so obviously clear. “The star light you’re crying; it’ll damage your vision. Within the first five days, the colors you see will start to fade away, until the only color you can see is from the golden tears.” Feyre was fidgeting with her hands. It’s been such a long time since I saw her antsy, anxious. “What happens after the five days? Do I die?” If I’m honest with myself, that’d be a great relief. Not having to deal with the shame, the pain he’s putting me through. “No. After those five days, you start losing your vision. If by the seventh day you’re still crying stars, you’ll be permanently blind.” How poetic, I think, living in the City of Starlight, crying stars for the love you give to a male who doesn’t seem to know how to love, then being blinded by love and stars. All those dreams I had as a youngling, about loving someone who makes you see stars, they were so misinterpreted. Everything I once craved turned into my own ruin. I dug my own grave, I cursed my own future. I deserve this awful destiny; I should be fated to an even worse one. I was so stupid. I am so stupid. He made me stupid.

“Thank you for letting me know, Fey, but I need to be alone right now. Please.” Holding back those stupidly bright tears were so difficult, so fucking difficult. Feyre has so much do deal with, I can’t stress her any further. I’d never forgive myself if I was to blame for worrying her during her pregnancy. This is the one thing I can’t bear to do. She stands up, but not to leave my room as I hoped she would. She stood in front of me, offering her hand before she sat by the arm of my own chair. Looking down at me, with her eyes so warm and comforting, “Y/N, I…” Feyre stopped as if she was balancing her words and deciding against voicing her thoughts. “It’s okay. Take your time. When you’re ready, come down and let’s have something to eat, okay?” I nodded before she left.

★

Overthinking all night, I barely got any sleep. Tossing and turning in my bed, my blanket fell off so many times, I lost count. My cheeks were once again dirty with star tears as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, trying to look presentable for the day. My temples hurt, headache taking over me, with something like pieces of a puzzle itching in my mind, trying to come together. She needed to ask me something, I noticed that. Whatever it was, must be like a blow to the stomach, something so hard to take in that Feyre, my High Lady and best friend, couldn’t ask me. As if anything she had to say could make me hurt more. Little did she know that there’s almost nothing left of me to hurt. Seeing Azriel giving Elain that necklace, being so close to her, feeling his desire, it ripped me apart. My chest tightened so much, there wasn’t enough air in the world for me to breath at that moment. I felt like my heart was tied by a rope so strong and powerful that I couldn’t get away from the scene. I was frozen in place. Tied to him. And the more I had to stretch that rope that bound us together, the more it hurt. Walking away from him physically hurt. I don’t think something could ever hurt me more than the weight of this rope on my chest. Crushing my heart, begging for release. Release.

★

I didn’t realize he had finished cleaning me up until I missed his body warmth beside me. Blindly reaching out to him, I touched his scarred hand, grabbing his attention back to me. “I love you, did you know that?” I said barely above a whisper, unconsciously caressing his hand. Azriel leaned down and softly kissed my forehead. He’s always been sweet to me, but even in my almost dozed off state I could feel the difference. This was tender, loving and even a little melancholic, as his lips trembled and tears formed in his waterline. I wish he would open up, let me him. I want to understand him, but right now I can barely keep my eyes open. “Let me in to your heart, I would never hurt you.” I muttered before the warmest and brightest of feelings inside my chest lulled me into a deep sleep.

“You already own my heart, my mate.” Azriel whispered to himself. The realization sending chills down his spine. He longed to feel like this, but there were so many things keeping him from getting what he’s always dreamed of. So many thoughts restraining him, keeping him trapped in this dark and cold pit, in a loop of fear and anger, sadness and self-hate, pain. What does it take to get out of this place? How does he let go?

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #feyre archeron #azriel x elain #aesthetic #stars he hung