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studioghibelli · 2 months

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moonlight sonata- a joel miller x reader

summary: entranced by your enigmatic history professor, you can't help but feel like he's hiding something from you. is it really that crazy to think that joel miller might actually be.... a vampire?

warnings: no use of y/n, teacher x student relationship, vampire!joel, professor!joel, student!reader, no outbreak!au, hefty age gap, a self-indulgent vampire fic i'm not even gonna lie, and of course smut (biting, desk fucking, pussy eating, period sex, fingering, finger sucking, some dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, etc.)

The rocky shore line raged alongside the whistling storm, brazen waves slapping and slamming against the rocky coast with each crack of lightning. The stone covered castle far off the outskirts of the small, hidden university was mostly shrouded in the darkness of night, except the flickering of a candle light at the highest window.

With each tick tock of the clock, the rain continued its journey on through the evening, painting the green grass with its wet dew. You cursed yourself for making an appointment with your history professor on this day of all days, annoyed that the weather decided to act up on this particular Wednesday, as if the storm hadn't been brewing for days on end.

As you walked along the cobblestone path, the moon slowly clawing up the canvas of the sky, your mind wandered to thoughts of him.

Joel Miller. Dr. Joel Miller. Professor Joel Miller. He didn't mind what he was called, as long as they got the "Joel" part right.

He was an enigmatic as he was handsome: charming, intuitive, mysterious, quiet. Every time you thought you were getting over him, he did something to draw you right back in. The flash of a smile sent directly to you during a test, a gentle brush of his fingers across your shoulder, a comment made on a well-written paper of yours- he knew just what to do to keep you tight on the line of his fishing hook. Whether he knew what he was doing, well... that was another question entirely.

You had asked to meet him after his office hours because of a particularly jarring comment he left on one of your papers.

Your research on Medieval Romanian folklore demonstrates commendable dedication and insight into the complexities of nocturnal life and the myths associated with it. However, I urge you to exercise caution in your interpretations, as some observations may lead you down paths best left unexplored. Remember, curiosity can be both a blessing and a curse.

Since you read what he wrote, you haven't been able to get it out of your head.

Weeks of research on Romanian folklore, specifically that of vampires, had left you questioning and guessing a multitude of previously learned lessons. You felt crazy, waking up in the dead of night because you felt eyes on you, the lingering kiss of a pair of sharp teeth ghosting against the soft skin of your neck. And, even more crazy -admittedly- you found yourself studying Professor Miller even more closely after his comment.

He only held his classes in the evening, his office hours were far later than any other professor, and you could always see his office light flickering on throughout the night, a beacon of hope you could look out to from your dormitory, when you were jerked awake by nightmares of monsters sucking your blood dry, their sharp fangs biting in to your supple flesh as though you were their first meal in centuries.

And yet, despite the pieces of evidence you had collected over the past few semesters, you still felt like you were on the brink of insanity for even thinking about believing such a preposterous myth. Especially one that involved Joel Miller, your favorite professor.

Despite this, you longed to talk to him about that cryptic message he wrote, so you swallowed your doubts and fears and garnered up enough courage to meet up with him.

By the time you reached the thick wooden door of his office, you could barely breathe, soaked to the bone as your clothes clung to your skin, droplets of rain clinging to your skin like smears of oil paint on a canvas.

You didn't have to knock for the iron hinges of the door to swing open with a loud creak.

"Professor!" Your surprise rocked through you, eyes widening as he caught you right on time.

"Hello. I knew you were on your way up." He looked down at you, his burly build towering over your own, and beckoned you inside.

Dr. Miller's office was cold, so cold that your skin raised with goosebumps as you slowly made your way inside. The wallpaper was old and floral, ripping at the edges of the corners of the walls, and the gothic architecture of the ceiling was tall and made of stone, providing even more of a chill in the already frigid room.

His desk was dark and made of solid mahogany, an absinthe lamp standing proud in the corner, as various candles flickered throughout. Rows of books lined the shelves, all of them old and leather bound, filling the office with the musky and comforting smell of aged paper.

It felt homely, yet it was freezing. The dichotomy of those two feelings left you rather stumped.

Joel made his way to his chair, his tight black pants and loose, long sleeved white shirt bellowing beneath the cranked A/C.

Perhaps you were just wet with rain, but you couldn't stop shivering.

"D-Do you run hot, or something?" You finally managed to stutter out, your arms hugging tight around your body as you sat across from him.

The Professor grinned ever so slightly, grabbing a black coat that hung on his tall coat rack, moving to hand it to you. When he got close, his nostrils flared ever so slightly. You watched his knuckles turn white against the collar of the jacket, and you heard him slowly take in a deep breath.

Slowly you looked up, his pupils blown wide with some archaic sort of desire, darkening with every breath he took in. It was as though he was breathing you in. Your thighs clenched tightly as his hand dropped to your shoulder.

Joel looked down at you, blinking slowly, as though he were coming back down to reality from an existential crisis or nerve racking nightmare. A shudder ran down the teachers spine, before he quickly dropped the material in your lap and rushed back to his chair, quickly becoming composed and poised as though nothing else had happened.

What was that about?

Dr. Miller peered at you from across the desk, smoothing out a paper that lay before him. The air was thick with an awkward sort of palpability, and you were scared if you tried to speak, nothing would come out of your mouth, your tongue dry like cotton.

"You said you wanted to meet with me?" He finally asked, his words slow and deep, that familiar Southern drawl clinging to each syllable in a smooth, honeyed sort of way.

"Y-.... yes." Clearing your throat, you somehow managed to sit up straighter, bringing the fleece coat tight upon your shoulders. "My paper."

"The one about vampiric Romanian myths, I assume. What about it?"

"I..." You paused once more, your mouth hanging open at the sheer insanity of what you wished to say next. "I think we should stop calling them myths, Professor."

Your professor chuckled a lovely, warming chuckle, a hand gently running down his stubble covered cheek. "Is that so?" His voice dropped an octave, and you saw his pupils grow dark once more.

With furrowed eyebrows, you began to speak once more. "I researched this extensively, you see. These... these sources, from the 15th century, they're accompanied by various art pieces, debates... I-I even read papal court cases involving humanoid creatures that only hunt at night. All of that-all of it is just a myth? Something doesn't add up to me."

"When studying history, it's important to note that not everything is.... as it seems." He flashed you a smile, and you caught glimpse of an incisor that looked longer than usual, sharper that normal, more imposing than most.

A wave of courage rushed over you at the sight. "Just with history?" Your voice was a whisper, but for the first time that night, it did not waver.

He stood, slowly making his way towards you. Your spine straightened as he pressed against you from behind the chair, his hands slowly falling to your shoulders. His palms were warm, heating the skin of your shoulders, your mind soon forgetting the cold memory of the rain.

"What are you implying?" You looked over to him, your eyes tracing over the golden skin of his hands, rough and calloused by the hand of time. This is the skin of a killer bella.

"Are you..." You took in a defeated sigh, shutting your eyes tightly. "Are you a vampire?" You couldn't believe how stupid you felt, how stupid all of this seemed once you spoke it out loud.

He laughed, and you felt him shifting to match your height, one knee resting on the wooden planks of the floor. "What do you think?" Joel whispered, his nose gently brushing against the skin of your neck.

You took in a sharp breath of air, leaning back against him, slowly turning to face him. "Dr. Miller...."

"What?"

"You're... you're very close to me."

"Do you want me to move? I can."

You shook your head slowly. "No. Don't." And you meant it.

A mischievous smirk fell over his plush lips, and you felt a finger gently tracing down your arm. "That's what I thought. I can see you, you know. The way you act around me, how you beam when I praise you, how you deflate when I walk away from you. I'm not stupid, darlin'. I know what you want, and I can give it to you."

"And what do I want, Professor?"

You could feel the arrogance radiating off of him. "Me." That one word was so infuriatingly attractive, his confidence only making him more desirable, more tempting.

You took in a sharp breath of air, your head falling into his shoulder. You felt his eyes searing in to your jugular, the smooth, taut skin of your neck on display for his chocolate hued eyes.

"How do you know that?"

"I can smell it. Your arousal. Your desire. Your need. All for me. I can make you feel pleasure like no one else can." His words were hot against your skin, and you felt his lips brushing against it with each word he spoke.

If you wanted to lie, you knew you would be unable to, now caught in his words like an animal in a trap. You swallowed thickly, nodding. "Yes." Was all you could say, your tongue dry once more. "But not tonight. I'm-"

"Bleeding?" Joel finished for you, and you were shook by the realization that if anyone in the world would care about that, it certainly wouldn't be him.

"How did you know?"

"I can smell it." You could practically hear the watering of his mouth, the desire which clung to the surface of his syllables. "Surely that wouldn't deter me, if what you've discovered is true. No?"

"No."

"Then let me taste you, let me have you."

"I'm yours." You whispered quietly, eyelids shutting as his mouth attached to your neck, deep kisses pressing in to your exposed flesh, searing hot with the promise of arousal.

"Oh, you always have been, haven't you?" Joel's fingers gently tangled around your tresses of hair, his tongue licking a thick strip across your throat.

"You never answered my question." You whispered out your thoughts as you felt his the sharpness of his teeth.

"I know. But you never answered mine."

"What-.... what question?"

"What do you think I am?"

"You know what I think."

"Do you have proof to back that up?" Dr. Miller's voice was getting cocky now, each word laced with more arrogance than the last.

"I've never seen you in the daylight. Never... never seen you eat or drink anything. You lurk in your office, in the shadows of the classroom. You're not like the other professor's, who are always out and about in the mornings, chattering and drinking coffee." You shut your eyes tightly, your tongue sweeping across your lower lip.

"Say it." He pleaded, words dark and cloudy with desire. "Say what I am."

"You're a vampire."

"You're right."

A shaky breath escaped you, and you slowly opened your eyes to see his mouth slightly open, the sharpness of his fangs exposed to your vision. You turned to face him head on, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering golden flame of the surrounding candles.

He looked so handsome in this light, the shadows that danced across his face only making him more imposing, more alluring. The Professors umber eyes were glued to your features, and you felt a calloused finger trace along the line of your soft jaw, his touch warm and gentle. You shivered at the feeling.

"Will you bite me?"

"Bite... you?"

"Please."

Joel ran his middle finger across your lower lip, a stray strand of hair pushed behind your ear by his slow movements. A sad sort of smile fell over his face. "That's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

He stared at you long and hard, as though he were weighing infinite possibilities within his mind. "If I start, I won't ever want to stop. I'll just keep coming back to you for more and more, it will be an infinite loop. Not to mention what.... well, what will happen to you."

"To me?"

"Eternity is a very long time." His voice turned solemn for a moment, and you nodded in silent understanding.

"How old are you?"

"Very old."

A soft giggle escaped you, and your hands moved to cup his scruffy cheeks. "I always thought vampires were Romanian. Or, Byron-like and British. Like Keanu Reeves."

He chuckled smoothly, shaking his head slowly at your guess. "Not this one. I'm a cowboy, through and through. Always have been, always will be."

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and you leaned towards him. "Can this cowboy kiss me?"

"This cowboy'll do whatever you want him to do."

Your eyes fluttered shut as Joel pressed his mouth to yours, a searing kiss burning through your body like an pyre ignited with flames. You moaned at the pleasure that filled your chest, his hands slowly moving to the hem of your damp shirt, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your belly as your kiss deepened. You hooked your leg around the professors waist, pulling him closer until his chest was flush against yours.

"I want more." You moaned out breathlessly, arms hooking around his neck as you pulled away.

"Then I'll give you more."

In one fell swoop he picked you up and placed you on his desk, his sheer strength causing you to yelp in surprise. Joel kissed you as though he would never kissed another, hungrily and passionately, working the buttons of his shirt. When he was done, he stripped you of your own, only pulling away to look upon your naked form.

"You're beautiful. Perfect. Look at you." His eyes drunk in every inch of your exposed chest, and he slowly grabbed the waistline of your jeans, tugging them off of you in one brief movement of his arms.

"You're beautiful." You mumbled, planting your hands on his thick biceps, feeling the strain of his muscles against your touch.

He smirked slightly, yet you caught a glimpse of it, and before you knew it he was down on his knees, his face buried between your thighs. You felt his teeth gently bite into your thighs, not hard enough to break any skin, but enough for you to feel it. You shivered at the pleasure, your fingers tangling into his hair.

You laid back across the desk, legs hooked over his shoulders, as his lips wrapped around your swelling clit, tongue tracing circles over your sensitive button.

You groaned out at the contact, tugging at his curls, trying to bring him even closer to the slick heat of your pussy.

"You're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."

All you could do was moan out at his comment, allowing him to drink you all in with every lap of his tongue, every movement of his soft lips.

"I could stay down here for eternity." Joel grumbled, sucking in your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to leave you begging for me.

"Do what you must." You responded through a breathless laugh, shocks of pleasure jolting through your core.

His tongue swept through your folds, collecting your arousal and your blood, the metallic taste of your tang filling his senses with pleasure he never thought was possible. Joel ate your pussy like a starved man. Which, in truth, he really was.

His fingers slowly moved to the entrance of your contracting pussy, and he eased his digits in to the knuckle, hitting against that spot that made you coo with relief. As he slowly began a rhythm with his movements, Joel returned to your clit, making sure it wasn't feeling left out. He sucked and licked, lapped and groaned, your cunt the only thing in the world that he cared about in that moment.

Before you could even think of what was going on, you felt your orgasm brewing within you, and that coil was only growing tighter by the minute. Dr. Miller continued fingering you, adding in a second finger as his tongue traced shapes into your bud, your blood dripping on his chin as he took you all in.

"I'm going to- I'm... Oh, fuck. Professor!" Your orgasm rocked you like a hurricane, waves and waves of tepid bliss filling your mind until his tongue on your skin and his fingers deep inside you were the only thing you could ever remember.

He only pulled away once he licked every drop of your cum and blood up, wiping away the excess with the back of his hand. Joel looked at you darkly, eyes meeting yours, and you noticed the bulge pressing into his trousers.

"Fill me." You whispered, opening your arms to welcome him back to your embrace.

"Oh, I will."

Joel moved to your arms, his hands working at his zipper until he was completely naked in front of you. You traced your palm down the softness of his belly until you had wrapped your own hand around his cock, stiff and aching with the thought of being buried deep inside of you. You guided his leaking mushroom tip to the entrance of your cunt, slowly looking up at him.

"Take me."

"As you wish." He whispered, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he pushed in to you, hands moving to your waist.

He stretched you perfectly, each ridge and vein introducing you to new pleasures you had never felt before. Joel knew how to make you shiver, how to make you moan, and he had never heard anything as beautiful as the sound of his name falling off your pretty lips.

"You feel so fuckin' good. So fuckin' tight for me, so wet." His teeth grazed against the flesh of your collarbone, and you felt his kisses pressing up and in to your neck. He bit down on your skin, much harder than the last time, his incisors tracing perfect lines on the suppleness of your throat.

Your fingers moved to his hair as you cried out his name, cheek falling into the side of his head as he pumped deep in to you. "Fuck me." You begged out breathlessly, his hips against yours growing harder and meaner with each movement.

"You're mine." His words were a growl, his words calming and deep in your ear, his heavy pants with each thrust causing you to whimper.

"I'm yours."

"Good fuckin' girl. Takin' me in." He raised his fingers to your mouth, gently pushing past your lips. "Suck."

You sucked your own orgasm off his flesh, moaning at the taste as he pulled away to watch, his pelvis hitting against yours as he fucked your pussy. A smirk flitted at the corners of his mouth.

"Look so pretty with your mouth stuffed."

You moaned out at the praise, pulling away with a gentle pop.

Joel reached down, easily finding your clit. "Gonna make you cum on my cock. One more time for me. Okay?"

"Okay." You complied happily, laying back on the desk once more as he towered over you, chest coming in to contact with your own as he rubbed and fucked, skilled beyond any sort of measure you had ever experienced before.

"That's my girl. My pretty girl. My strong, smart, clever girl." His words were hot against your throat as he bit you again, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make himself known.

He had so much power like that, with his teeth right against your flesh. He had your life in his hands, and yet he had no desire to take it. No desire you suck you down to the bone, no desire to curse you with the eternal fate he himself had been left with. Oh, yes. Eternity does sound so romantic to those who have no concept of it, doesn't it? But Joel Miller knew. He knew what forever could do to a man. He knew how lonely it could be.

You were right under his grasp, right there. He could take everything away from you in one bite, with one movement of his teeth. And yet he didn't.

Somehow, knowing this, knowing what he could do to you, only made you want him more. The trust that was there, the respect that lingered with each feeling of his fangs against you, only made you fall harder, deeper, longer.

Your stomach tightened with another climax as you fell back down to reality, and Joel pulled away to look at you, his nose pressing in to your own as your eyes met.

"I'm going to cum again." You whispered, throwing your hands around his shoulders.

"Cum for me then, darlin'. Cum on this dick."

Hearing his voice, deep and smooth and sexy and raw, caused you to come undone, your voice giving out as you cried out silently, pleasure flooding you as your pussy tightened around his cock. Joel followed suit, burying his face in your shoulder as his own orgasm shot through, his seed spilling deep within you, painting your walls white.

His weight pressed down against you as he pulled you closer, allowing your climaxes to calm down before kissed you, his lips rough and cracked against your own.

"Perhaps I should start leaving more comments on your papers." He joked as he pulled away, gently moving to help you dress, your shirt almost dry from the rains previous assault.

"Or I could just keep coming back. Over and over again."

"I would like that." Joel said earnestly, pulling his pants on over his legs.

"I would, too." You smiled up at him, slowly getting off the edge of his desk. "Do you, uh, have any plans tonight?"

"Besides lurking in the shadows and hunting pale virgins? No, not really." Dr. Miller's voice was dry and sarcastic, yet a hint of charming care was evident.

You laughed softly at his joke, looking up at him. "Would you want to do something with me?"

"Like what? I can't exactly take you out to dinner."

Joel relished in the bright smile that stretched across your face. "We could always go for a walk? The rain has stopped."

He peered out the window, the silver light of the moon flooding in through the sheer curtains. "Then it's a date."

"Yes. A date."

And as you two walked, hand in hand through the dense forest of autumn, and as the distant waves of the ocean crashed in and out of ear shot, you wondered what could possibly be so bad about eternity if it were spent with him. Perhaps you could get used to these late night walks. Perhaps you would yearn for them for the rest of your life, however long that may be.

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renmackree · 10 months

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Pleasepleasepleaseplease can you just write a LITTLE of the Stiles in Derek's DMs??? I just need something to keep me going while you slowly rip my heart out with other ideas?

I will pay in love?????

Hey Anon, I'm guessing you're talking about this post?

Just for you, ok? :)

Eggs

Butter

Cheese

Look up the percentage of Australia desert for **funsies**

Stiles typed out the list and hit send before sliding his phone back into his jacket pocket. The barista called his name and he scooped the large tray of coffees from the counter with a slight wave and a fiver in the tip jar. Shelly always made sure to add the extra whipped cream on his caramel macchiato frost and that was not to be forgotten.

The Boston air was crisp this morning as he stumbled out of the little coffee shop and towards Roscoe who was parked on the narrow street. While school was in Cambridge, the best coffee was across the river and everyone in his Computational biology department knew it.

Which was why Stiles was always the errand boy.

He put the departments coffees in the little box on the floor of the passenger seat strapping it in so that they would be safe for his long (not so long), arduous (re: three stop lights and a bridge), journey back to MIT.

A ding came from his phone, Stiles groaning loudly as he gripped the steering wheel and shook it in frustration.

"I swear, if it's Lydia changing her order for the seventh time, I'm throwing her Herbal tea into the harbor."

Ha. Boston Harbor. Tea. Stiles was hilarious.

He took another deep breath and opened his phone to see a small notification.

DH: Did you finish your paper on multidisciplinary approach to estimating wolf population size for long-term conservation?

"Huh. Specific..." Stiles had finished that paper a few weeks ago, but had barely made the deadline. He had been about to text Danny that the new AI prototype he had installed on Stiles' phone was whack when he saw the notification came from Instagram, not from M.A.T.T.

Another ping came through.

DH: And why would you need the percentage of Australian Deserts? That seems like a boring thing to spend your free time on.

Stiles' mouth hung open, eyes wide as he realized what was happening. Someone was replying to his DMs on Derek Hale's Instagram. He held his phone out like it was a bomb between thumb and forefinger; an almost whine escaped his mouth.

It had started when he was in High School almost 10 years ago now. One night he had been on an Adderall-Mountain Dew-Jelly Doughnut-Pizza high and decided that the best way to keep all his random thoughts in one place was to use the app that distracted him DAILY as a note system. He had even made a burner account so that he could keep all his random thoughts together.

Only problem was, his little distracted monkey brain had accidently clicked on Derek Hale's DMs rather than his fake account. It was five weeks in when Stiles noticed and at that point it was too late. It wasn't like Derek was going to answer him anyways, he had said on NUMEROUS occasions that social media was not his favorite thing and he only had the account to promote his new movies (which Stiles watched religiously. I Was a Teenaged Mothman was probably the worst and best movie franchise to ever hit the theaters and Derek Hale as Mothman was his every wet dream.)

So, he just continued to use it. Grocery lists, reminders, random thoughts at night, future movie ideas, school assignment ideas, complaints about his stupid roommate back in freshman year - he wrote it all.

And now someone was responding to TEN YEARS of DMs.

Stiles didn't know what he should do. Should he ask if this was actually Derek? No, wait that was stupid. Derek wouldn't actually be handling his social media. He had people. Peoples? Multiple people who could answer this for him.

"Some. of. us. have. hobbies. that. no. one. understands. And. I. need. it. to. win. a. bet." Stiles spoke each words as he typed it, sending the message out before typing another one. "And. yes. I. got. an. A. minus. because. Harris. hates. wolves."

Stiles tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and started driving to campus, mind still reeling that someone would be responding directly to random DMs that made no sense. If Stiles was asking questions about when the next IWATM movie, sure that would be a conversation the PR team might engage in. Not this.

Lydia owes you $40 for Venmo

Stiles decided to ignore it and his phone remained silent the rest of the day.

.o00o.

Call your Dad

Finish your stupid damn thesis or s u f f e r

Don't forget to get tickets.

It had been a week since the strange response to his DM came through, so Stiles assumed it was a fluke. He had tried a new note handling app that Danny had recommended, but a day later he had already started throwing things back into Derek's DMs. Hey, cut him some slack, it was a 10 year habit.

His phone pinged and Stiles' mouth almost fell open again. Another response.

DH: What are you getting tickets for?

This time, Stiles was quick to respond.

SS: I'm going to try and get tickets to the Bruins game tomorrow. Gotta love hockey, am I right?

There was silence on the other side of the screen, Stiles letting out a frustrated sigh. Whoever Derek Hale's Social Media manager was, they picked the weirdest things to respond to.

DH: So not Mothman in Love premier?

Ah. Now he knew what this was. They were trying to see if fans were biting at the newest spin off. Smart marketing.

SS: I already have my tickets for that. Opening night, middle row, got the collector Popcorn bucket on hold too. I know a guy.

The three dots at the bottom of the screen indicated that the person was typing, Stiles wondering if they were going to ask for a quote or a picture for the page from the opening night.

DH: You have appalling taste in movies.

Stiles' mouth dropped open again, his mind running at a million miles a minute and then crashing into a brick wall with the word appalling painted over it.

SS: Excuse me, the Mothman movies are absolute hot trash and I eat them up like greasy diner food. Do not talk about my comfort trash like that.

SS: but they are pretty bad, so I mean. You're not wrong.

And done, there was NO way the Social Media manager would ever EVER respond to a fan who said something like that. He could go back to his note taking life and luckily Derek Hale would never know.

DH: Then why do you watch them?

SS: Because you're a fantastic and sexy actor and if I could I'd lick chocolate off your abs.

His phone pinged.

DH: You're not bad yourself.

HUH.

Stiles was speechless, his eyes reading over the sentence over and over and over again. He opened his Instagram and quickly flipped through the pictures he had. Most were of him with the Lab boys, Lydia was in a lot of them, some of him on vacation in Peru, some with his Dad. Nothing that would ever, EVER scream you're not bad yourself.

SS: wow, maybe you do need those glasses checked? Unless scrawny Computational Biology Doctoral candidates really crank your wheel.

DH: Computational Biology PHD? Big change from the FBI you were originally thinking about.

Stiles sucked his teeth. That was the problem with this dynamic. Stiles had written everything and anything about himself in these DMs and it could be anyone reading it.

SS: Cyber security would have been my downfall if I did FBI clearly, since you know everything and I know nothing about you. I don't even know if you're Actually Derek Sampson Hale.

There was a blip of the three dots and then nothing. Right, Well that was fun while it lasted. Stiles had been about to turn on his Playstation and forget everything when the ping came through.

Instead of a text, there was a picture. Low v-neck, black rimmed glasses, slightly messy hair, beard that looked like it needed to be trimmed, holding a sign that read your turn @StilesisMe.

Derek. Fucking. Hale.

"Oh my god, oh my god..." Stiles scratched the back of his head furriously, throwing the phone on his bed and just circling it like a vulture circling its next meal. "Derek Hale sent you a picture, Derek Hale is reading your shit."

He stopped walking for a moment. "You just told Derek Hale you'd lick chocolate off his abs."

Stiles threw himself on the bed, slamming his head over the pillow at least a dozen times. Finally he grabbed his phone and sent a quick message.

SS: I don't send photos on Insta. Add me on snap if you want. @S.S.Stilinski69420

He waited.

God he waited.

And then the little Ghost of a notification from Snapchat appeared saying Haleofaguy added you as a friend. Stiles felt his fingers freeze as he hovered over the accept. Why, why was Derek Hale the movie star talking to him? Was he bored? Was he lonely?

Stiles remembered an interview once where Derek said he liked talking with people and learning new things, so maybe it was that? Maybe Stiles was just an interesting guy that Derek wanted to know.

No matter what it was, Stiles' insatiable curiosity got the better of him and he needed to know just how far this rabbit hole would go.

He took a minute to find a filter he liked and snapped a pretty unflattering picture of himself with the caption this is what your in for, buckle up Mothboy

Nothing happened, and then snapchat told him Derek Hale saved the picture to their chat and sent one back. It was the most unflattering angle Stiles had ever seen of the actor and he couldn't help but laugh.

It's Mothman

#sterek #welcome to the hale mouth #inbox fanfiction #anon questions #i hope that's ok for you anon?#i was a teenaged mothman

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coffeeghoulie · 4 months

Text

wrote most of this at the laundromat waiting for my clothes, enjoy some incredibly domestic swissalps

There's a clang, and bright laughter behind him, and Mountain doesn't quite mind that he hit his antlers on the bottom washer knowing that it made Swiss laugh.

He groans, straightening and rubbing his temple, turning to glare at the multighoul, cheeks flushed. There's no heat in it, not when he's not really hurt, just his pride. Swiss's laughter is contagious, fangs flashing in the dingy fluorescents of the Abbey laundry room. It's in the basement, the opposite side of the building than the ghoul den, and the ghouls draw straws as to who makes the trek with everyone's dirty laundry once a week. This week, it's him and Swiss hauling clothes and detergent and dryer sheets.

"Stop laughing," Mountain cackles, shutting the washer door and hitting the start button. Cirrus's clothes start spinning, the barrel filling with water and soap.

"But it's funny," Swiss says, hipchecking Mountain affectionately as he pours detergent into a load of Aeon's laundry. A lot of stolen hoodies, a lot of mismatched socks. "You're alright, though, maple?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Mountain confirms, reaching up to the washer above the one he hit his head on, that chimes as it finishes a cycle, Rain's clothes ready to be sorted onto the drying rack or thrown into the dryer.

There's music playing, a radio station that neither of them really listen to, but some of the Siblings like. Other than that, they fall into a meditative silence, moving between the washers and dryers lining each wall, working on getting ten ghouls' worth of laundry done.

"You ever try not to get dirt on your overalls, big boy?" Swiss teases, holding up said overalls. They're grass-stained at the knees, and the rest of them are more brown than blue denim.

Mountain snorts, shakes his head. "You try working in the greenhouse with ten other ghouls to grow enough to feed the Abbey. You're a little Earth, why don't you come down and join us? Eventually you'll stop caring so much about a little dirt."

Swiss rolls his eyes, tossing the overalls into a washer. "You know I'm more fire than anything, edelweiss," he says, finishing unloading Mountain's laundry into the barrel, pouring detergent into the little tray on top. "It's why I'm so hot," he waggles his eyebrows, play-seductive.

Mountain throws his head back, brushing the auburn waves that escaped from his bun out of his face. "If I had a nickel for every time you've used that specific pick up line since I've met you, I'd have enough money to buy the Abbey."

Swiss snorts, starting the washer. "It worked the first time, didn't it?"

"More like the fifth," Mountain says, tail flicking against the concrete floor as Swiss wraps his arms around his waist, standing up on the pads of his feet to hook his chin over Mountain's shoulder. Mountain leans back, careful not to hit Swiss with his antlers or cut himself on Swiss's horns, and rubs his cheek against his braids.

"Still worked though," Swiss purrs into Mountain's ear. It flicks, bapping Swiss on the nose, and both of them laugh.

Eventually, everyone's laundry is in a wash cycle or drying, the delicates sorted and hung up. Mountain sits down in one of the chairs tucked in the corner, setting a timer on his phone and tucking it back into his pocket. Swiss leans up against the wall of dryers, hands in his pockets. "Do you think we have enough time to go back to the den, or is it not worth it?"

Mountain hums, thinking. "By the time we make it back, we'd probably only have five minutes before we had to come back. Don't want anybody stealing our laundry."

"Or having the good intention of switching it over but not knowing which of Dew's shirts are air dry only and we'd have to face the spitfire's wrath," Swiss jokes, and Mountain snorts under his breath.

"So, we have forty minutes to kill," Mountain breathes, leaning back against the chair, his knees drawn up, the chair too low to the ground for a ghoul with legs as long as his. "What do you wanna do?"

The song playing on the radio ends, and a ballad starts, something low and slow and steady, and Swiss pushes himself from the dryers, taking two long steps to stand in front of Mountain. His hands are outstretched, gently taking Mountain's, running his thumbs over the callouses on his palms, drumstick and garden tool alike.

"Dance with me, maple?" Swiss asks, gently tugging, and Mountain goes, letting Swiss haul him to his feet, a warm smile on his face.

Mountain grins, leaning down to rub his cheek against Swiss's stubble. He rests his arms on Swiss's shoulders as the multighoul wraps his around Mountain's waist, playing with one of his belt loops as they begin to sway to the music. Neither of them know the words, but they sway there, waiting for the laundry.

#someone come do chores with meeeeeeeeeee #anyways #dot's writing #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #swiss/mountain

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1eoness · 7 months

Text

uhmmmm actor leon kennedy?? mayvbe

[to clarify, i am a minor (17). anyone <17 and anyone >17 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni}

a/n bc i love rambling : so uhmmm when i was writing this there was an electric explosion right outside of our house so the power's out in our neighborhood and im back in this damn cafe LMAOOO

a/n : (update lol)i wrote this like monthssss ago (wtf this sucks).. so im back nd im gonna post this bc why the fuck not it's still rllyyyy bad and a lot of word repeating but yeah just felt like posting lol

synopsis : actor!leon kennedy has been in the gig too long to deal with nepotistic, wide-eyed girls like you. yet much to his exasperation, you're just too much of a greenhorn in the showbiz world.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -you can fucking skip this part idc- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you've only ever heard his name maybe once or twice in one of the magazines in your mother's bar. you must've read it over and over again, having to see his name and face habitually to endure the excruciating hours of working behind the bar with your phone in a locker. you weren't particularly enthusiastic about films or Hollywood or WASP families, either. but it was better than nothing.

it started like this. you were wiping the cedarwood slab that dewed with beer, when the woman who sat across you (having drunk maybe 4 pints) reached over with her veiny, grisly hands. the acrylics tapped at your temples when she held your awkward face.

said "woman" was your aunt who just got back from monaco. and she's been urging you to work with Pierce. whoever that was.

you were well content with the life you had right now. but sometimes—often in front of your vanity— you did find yourself fantasizing about the 'big city'. you caught yourself in a cliche dream but the idea was invigorating, the mere machinations of those opportunities dangled above your eyes like meat on a stick.

"..oh, but.. i don't think it's practical, you know?" you excused as you dismissed the billowing thoughts in your head. even if you had the physical assets that aligned with the director's vision, it would still feel wrong. some people go to literal schools for this stuff, don't they?

but she remained persistent. and after a low, lighthearted sigh, she continued her persuasion. "..y/n, you're a diamond in the rough." your aunt neared you, holding your hands together in a friendly hold. "..let me make it a reality for you."

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

so. were you a natural? hell no.

you're wearing a costume that you can't even touch without the stylists getting mad at you. you got harped on and poked at for so long you were starting to get a migraine. the studio refused to let up on you, jabbing at you passive aggressively until you curled like a millipede. honestly, you were more pissed than sad!

and leon? god, he was a total fucking hottie. and he was totally cold.

the director announced an hour break to everyone just before they'd jump straight to the next scene. you remained sat on one of the props, hands clasped on your lap, contemplating the choices you've made over for the 7th time today. you were fidgeting like you were anxious. you forgot how breaks felt. the luxury was there, five star hotels, velvet cushions and robes and office gossip and dinners with imported wine and cheese. but it felt like hell. working with leon was the only thing that made it even ten percent worth everything, but even he doesn't seem to like you. why was everyone so mean? fucking fair enough, you were beginning to hate this place so much you might ask for a cigarette yourself.

the petrichor mellowed through the film set, nibbling her skin with chill. nights in raccoon are cold, you needed to keep mind of that in case you decide to open your front door without a jacket. the alleyways were diffused by vapor lighting and LED signs. you also had another superficial thought. what do people on set usually do when they're on break?

you whip your head up, legs swinging slightly as you scanned the area. most of them are either adjusting equipment, going through script, or smoking one. you turned your head to your right without expecting much.

you saw leon leaning against the wall, next to the director, sharing smoke (you're beginning to see this is a trend) and cheap laughs. you were mildly surprised, not realizing they were both adjacent behind you, and you felt goosebumps rise when your eyes landed on leon. you quickly looked forward again. you didn't want to move away.

you missed leon's subtle smirk to himself when his gaze flicked to the crown of your hair. he took a puff of his stick, still sounding like he was talking to the man beside him. his eyes didn't leave you and the way you sat there like you were going to spend the remainder of your break spacing out.

leon's voice was nonchalant behind you. to you, it was faint chatter. "...life will chew you up and spit you back out before too long, but that's..."

...

was he talking to you?

leon wasn't too nice on you while you guys were on set, but he wasn't so directly mean either—emphasis on directly.

he's earned word of you from both your aunt and the director, obviously. he doesn't look like the type, but sometimes he has a knack for gossip. that's just how the nature of stardom works, doesn't it? name number #1 did this that tto name number #2, someone divorced someone, someone slept with someone—and the whole world goes aflame. he could care less about where you came from, why you're really here or who you were connected to. but something about you was thought-provoking. contrasting you, he worked for where he was. you just sat there looking pretty and snagged the role right away. maybe that sort of incompetency and oblivious audacity made you stand out from the rest. he found it pathetically attractive. you're an artless girl.

your head swiveled over your shoulder, looking behind and up at leon.

leon's eyes met your gaze halfway. "aww. is this your first big time acting gig, baby? no need to be nervous, it'll be alright." a tinge of mockery sweetened the husk of his voice. the director, who you now know is 'pierce', snickered at leon's subtle sarcasm.

the director tells him he's going to announce everyone to continue, since he wanted the rain to 'sex things up'. heaven's dew tapped lightly on the concrete as the director mounted his back off the vandalized walls, leaving you and leon alone in the same space. oh god.

for a minute you sat there quietly, letting the tension sink in upon the director leaving. you tentatively take another glance at leon. he wasn't looking at you anymore, and his hands were out his pockets as he swipes the little box open. soft brown tufts wisped when he shook his head to get the rain off his hair.

you got off the table. you walked to leon. you'd say your feet were moving on its own.

his head shifts to your direction. his bangs falling over his face. a gust of wind breezes by, and he smells deep, musky. like cardamom. cedarwood.

" if anyone's givin' you trouble on set..." leon looks down as he slips a cigarette in his mouth, rummaging in his pocket for his lighter. "you come to leon... 'kay?"

his hush voice was honeyed whiskey when it wooed at you, applying simple emphasis to his two-syllable name. leon, leon, how that name would sound in bed. there's a slight tease to his eyes, before diverting his attention to his cigarette, casting an orange glow in his palms when he flicks the lighter on with his thumb. his presence was prodding, inviting you with every inch of his body language. this man was blazing and you were a fucking moth.

he likes the way you're looking at him right now. your eyes are batting at every subtle sculpt of him. you can look away but he knows you're still thinking about him.

such a sweet thing, this one.

he decides to be 'friendlier', pitying the fact that you're obviously having a hard time socializing with the crew. "what's your favorite movie, doll?"

"mm.. i liked kill bill. and pulp fiction." you converse casually.

a name rolls off his tongue. "quentin tarantino." he nodded in what seemed like approval, watching a puddle.

you blink. "what?"

he glances at you and he doesn't reply, before leaving that wall all to yourself.

...

leon's tongue trickles with the taste of vouvray. you were art in the shadows, the honey lighting of the dimmed lamp doing nothing to illuminate leon's hotel room. your lips are glossed with his saliva, evidence of your breath went after he made out with you.

you're barely holding it, all while his big hands purchased at your flesh, drinking in the way you straddled his boner. the subtle friction where you were able to feel how big he really is intimidated you, blooming excited butterflies, your stomach fluttering at each soft push of your hips. you watched with your palms flat on his stomach, the soaked fabric of your panties collecting and staining all over his boxers as you stifled a needy whimper. "y'need it now, baby? oh, don't go soft on me now... i'll take care of you, just tell me."

his pretty baby, sitting on him and too shy to plead from the big shot. leon's hands languidly travel your skin, palms massaging up your sides. "...i-i wan' it.. i want you.. please.." you murmured hazily, leaning down to give him a soft kiss to compensate for the bashfulness that rode over your speech.

"is that right, sweetheart?" he bit his lip gently at the teasing sight, loving the way you sounded needier by the minute. "oh, baby, go on. it's all yours, yeah?.." he crooned, patting your thigh gently.

"easy, baby.. oh, there you go.. atta girl.." he groans prettily when he's muttering you through it, eyes delectably gazing at the way you sink on his length. it was cute to him seeing you not knowing what to do with your hands. but he watches you settle them on his built torso, and he could only look at you in adoration. god, he was so fucking thick and you were so highly strung..

leon's touch stroke at your knees. you aren't moving, and he looks almost amused seeing you try to render just how he feels inside you. "i can't.." he heard you murmur before you giggled quietly, to which made him chuckle as well. but the flustered laughter dies down. the actor groans, feeling your fluttering grip around his cock, making it his instinct to hold onto your waist.

it didn't take long before you started getting loud. your arousal lathered up and everytime you pump down a creamy squelch. "mhmmm... uhh, keep going.." leon whispers, and his eyes stared at where your bodies met. you could hear a soft whimper from him—vocally begging your sweet little self to go faster.

leon watches you trying to change the speed. poor girl, you looked like you were already starting to ragdoll. you resisted stopping, unable to with the way he'd rub into the right spots. leon took your small, depleted whine as a sign for him to initiate. he was just letting you have your fun. just until you'd get a bit frustrated. by this time he'd already lit another cigarette and the stick perches between his lips.

"..tiring, ain't it, sweetheart?" leon coos, feigning pity for you, fingers clutched at your hips like its his favorite thing to hold. he started to thrust up into your sopping little cunt, pulling a weak mewl out of you. there might be nothing he loves more than watching your supple frame as it bounces atop him.

"mmm.. aww 's okay, baby.. leon's got you.. mhm, that's right." he responds to every quaint sob you make. his stamina was stubborn as he gradually shifted his pace.

"nice and quiet, baby... don't want th't fucker 'pierce hearin' you..." leon almost feels like a sick fuck, pretty lips grinning slightly as he moans. "god, fuuuuck... mmmhh... uh- f-fuck!" leon almost whines before giving you a harsh thrust, as if he were desperately trying to make you his cocksleeve. if you were going to take it so well then you shouldn't be surprised at how he's gonna force you down, and keep you in place while he sluts you out.

you're murmuring something, and the words fall like blabber to his ears.

leon smiles endearingly, as if he isn't fucking you stupid right now. "mhhh.. wanna cum? you wanna cum?" leon asks as he tries to make sense of what you're saying.

and you gulp, gasping through your watering voice. "w-wanna cumm.. give it t'me-"

he tries not to laugh.

"c'mon, let me make you cum... i'll make it feel good.." leon murmurs before you could feel him pound into you, a whine dripping like syrup from your voice. your body barely keeps up. you feel tight and it's making leon's head tilt back a bit. "oh, there you go, sweetheart... atta girl.." he mumbles hazily as his mind starts to get messy.

"like that? uhuh? mmmh?~" leon moans back almost mockingly at each pleasured whine that spilled your voice. you're mindlessly pawing at whatever you can reach on leon, turning him on with your helplessness. "takin' me nice and well-..." he growls as he starts to piston up into your cunt brutally. you look cuter when you're stuffed with leon's thickness, when you're crying on what you begged for.

"leon, c-cumming" you lolled out in a low moan, head leaning slightly. "i'm gonna cum.."

he responds with a groan, hips rocking upward as he feels you clenching around him. "go on, baby, give it to me. 'm right here,"

he has you shuddering when you cum, the vibrating sensation jolting to your brain as it reeled in pleasure. it takes a few shallow thrusts to keep you satisfied but it's hard to tell when you're already sniffling and twitching on top of him. you wipe your face as you draw a few breaths. leon reaches to warmly take your wrist, thumb pressing onto your skin, feeling your heartbeat.

he watches you gather your bearings before generously caressing your hair once. you help yourself off leon's shaft and a heavy-sounding breathe escapes him in wonder.

leon whispers something once he leans into you and chucks his half-dead cigarette into the ashtray. "c'mere.." his one arm tucked around your back and eventually the other to your leg as he makes you lie down. he treats you with some sort of delicacy, at least until he doesn't.

leon tugs you closer with his arm hooked loosely under your knee, pulling your princess body in for a few intimate kisses to calm the both of you. he tastes mildly bitter. you hummed in his mouth when your lips lock together, eyes fluttering while you felt weak. leon starts muttering as he asks if anything hurts, if you're okay, if you're gonna stay here for the night. for a moment he doesn't say anything and he's just gazing down at you languorously while he breathes. he kisses one of your eyelids before he shifts.

maybe leon liked you better like this, on your fours, limping against the satin bedding as you cried and panted in a way that seemed like suffocation. his thick fingers tug at your hair once, your only teary view being the couch and the TV that dimly mirrored a reflection of you being held down be leon as he rammed into your dribbling hole tenderly. your legs occasionally kicking up against him, hitting him with your ankles as you found it hard to not writhe. he watches you peek over your shoulder, the expression in your eyes instigating struggle. "what?" leon tugs at your hair again, fighting the toothy smile from his face as he fucked you brainless. "didn't think i could make a whore out of you?"

leon lets go of your hair to rut into you with urgency. the bed was starting to jut out small squeaks from leon's rhythm. he leans closer, chewing on his lip as his eyes narrowed in pleasure. a soft growl emanates from behind you, skin on skin, breathing near your ear. the rough hands that were once planted near yours on the mattress start to grip your forearms like handles. he watches your back contort.

you jolt up as leon yielded you to his body, impaling you with his girth in a routinely fashion, urging you to cry louder. "oh, baby.." he whimpers lowly as he starts to feel himself lose control again.

"fuck, i can't.." you wail out, head hanging low briefly. he notices.

"ready to pass out, honey?" he pants softly.

you weakly shook your head.

"good girl." leon bit his bottom lip, whispering out a needy 'fuck' as he slammed into you while pulling you back. he felt satisfied by the way you yelped. his brows furrow, expression tainted with a lustful and crude color as he almost began to drool. brown strands started to get in the way of his vision. his breath is suddenly hitched, water lining his eyes as his voice turned up a note. he hisses, head tilting to the side. "fuck, fuck,-" his gruff words start to match with his thrusts. "take it- all-, yes, baby, that's a good- fucking- mnnnghh..."

it takes leon a while to recover, moaning lowly and riding his orgasm, watching you spasm beneath him while he spills inside you without much restraint. he tiredly fucks his load in you before he gives out and huffs a spent whine. he catches a glimpse of it. you're leaking white.

you're breathless, fatigued, sweating, and almost thoughtless as you catch some oxygen back in your lungs. you could feel yourself pulsating around his twitching shaft as waves of pleasure traveled your burning body. his arms loosen of their sensual hold before they catch you, pulling your weary form down to spoon with you momentarily. you can feel each other inhaling. exhaling.

a phone rang. it wasn't yours, you could tell by the ringtone. your eyes flit to see pierce's name on a default iphone screen. "i need a drink." leon exhales roughly, leaning over to kiss the shell of your ear before he reached for the bedside table to grab for his phone. he slipped out of the sheets with his phone on his ear.

#leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader smut #this is so bad kms

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kazumist · 10 months

Note

Hello! Congrats on 1k!! For your 1k event, may I request Wanderer/Scara+ prompt 25 (finding comfort in their scent) feel free to ignore if you're swamped with requests. Have a wonderful day 😊

prompt: finding comfort in their scent

note: ueueue another piece that i wrote in a general sense T_______T it's a bit shorter than the other ones ive written so far too aaahhhh but i hope this was okay!! and thank you btw <3

1k milestone event: open!

green tea, morning dew, and mint.

those were the three scents that you could always sense from scaramouche.

it’s a bit of a strange mix between the three. but it’s not like they literally mix with each other. there are just some moments where you’d sense such a scent from your boyfriend during specific times of the day.

green tea because every afternoon or so he’d rest and drink it, relaxing while he’d either converse with you ever so casually or read a few books here and there. morning dew because he’d take short walks with you in the morning, and the scent of the morning dew on the plants would stick to him. and mint during the night before you both head to bed due to the soap he uses.

even you could sense such strange scents from him, they would always bring you a sense of comfort. it just... felt so scaramouche—the mint that’d start wafting once he moved closer to you in bed, wrapping his arms around you; the morning dew that you didn’t know you could even smell suddenly coming in as he locked his fingers into yours; and that scent of literal green tea that just sticks to him after your little afternoon tea.

green tea, morning dew, and mint. or in other terms, home.

#( writings )#( aki hits — 1k! )#from: teyvattales #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche #wanderer #x reader

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thelampisaflashlight · 7 months

Text

Shutterbug AU

[A while back I wrote an AU where Dew was a regular human who happened to fall in with the church and eventually became a ghoul of his own volition. Well, now, I'm back on my bullshit, and this time, instead of having him join the group right away, you get this.] Below the cut.

-Dew is a hobbyist photographer, he still does tech work/music as his main gig, but he also takes pictures.

Thing is, he tends to capture things in his photos that can't be seen by the naked eye, but he usually writes it off as him not being very good at taking photos, crappy lighting, etc.

Anyway, he's doing some behind the scenes sort of candid photography and takes some pics of the ghouls (Mist, Alpha, and Omega to be specific) because they asked him to get a couple for them to share privately with close friends/family, and Dew obliges, because why not?

Well, when he goes to look back at the photos, some digital, others on film for aesthetic purposes, something isn't quite right about what he's seeing.

At first, he pretends the photos got damaged/his SD card was fucked up, and the ghouls are bummed out, but it's whatever, and there's still some cool/fun background shots that made it out unscathed so it's all good.

But Dew is fucking terrified, because wtf?

-He manages to hide the other photos, fully intent on discarding them somehow, because he isn't sure he's supposed to see... whatever it is he's seeing.

So he makes the decision to burn them the next chance he gets, and, in the meantime, he's pretty insistent on NOT taking any photos of the ghouls, and keeps saying his cameras aren't working/have no memory left and all that jazz, which works for a little while, but then Omega gets suspicious.

Omega knows Dew is always taking photos of things, but he's being a bit sneakier/shy about it, and that's not like him at all.

When Dew finally does go to burn the copies he has of the photos... Omega films him doing it from a distance on one of Dew's own digital cameras and waits for Dew to sort through his camera and find the video.

But when Dew does find it, he doesn't even react, he just kind of watches it while Omega is sitting there, waiting for something, anything, any indication that he's even remotely nervous... but he gets absolutely nothing.

...Because Dew's camera is actually broken this time, as a result of him accidentally dropping it out of his bunk that morning.

-Anyway, it all kind of culminates with Dew being asked to take some pictures for Papa and, yeahh... It's kind of hard to say no to your boss, so he does.

And he makes a valiant effort not to freak out or panic whenever the photos come out ever so slightly off/messed up, and then the ghouls insist on taking a group photo with him in it.

Dew hands off his camera to someone else and they take the picture and... it's fine?

The ghouls all look like they do normally, and Dew is so relieved that he really does think it's just his own shitty skills/lack of talent, and while that's mildly upsetting, it's better than thinking he's taking pictures of actual demons.

However...

-At some point, Dew is talking to Mist about something, and brings up that he's thinking about maybe taking a class on how to take better photos, and eventually confides in her about how most of his tour photos were messed up or weird, and she asks him to show her.

So he does, and he explains that they only seem to come out that way when he takes the photo, but not when anyone else does, and Mist tells him to take a photo of her, then close his eyes and look back at her.

Suffice it to say seeing the irl flesh version of a still image he captured of a demon has Dew on a one way trip to the infirmary, because man passes the fuck out.

That's what I have so far.

#lamp rambles #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #omega ghoul #mist ghoulette #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #shutterbug au

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veliseraptor · 11 months

Note

I'm interested in your thoughts about the different way the show vs the novel cuts the timeline, and specifically in terms of how Jin Guangyao is framed. With the show, we're first introduced to Meng Yao as a young man making heart eyes at Zewu-jun and there's a very slow build up of suspicion over time, which allows viewers to get to know and like him more at first before...*ahem*... putting the villain hat on him. In the novel on the other hand (assuming I'm remembering this correctly), we're basically presented with Jin Guangyao as the antagonist almost from the beginning, setting him up for the reader's suspicion and dislike. On the other hand, there's a much more nuanced portrayal of his crimes (e.g. he's not responsible for Every Bad Thing Ever like in Untamed) and the reasons behind them, and an even more clear parallel with WWX as the protagonist. What are your thoughts?

Ohhh this is a super interesting ask and I actually found it an interesting counter to the prevailing Jin Guangyao narrative about his framing in the drama, which holds that he is straightforwardly being painted as The Villain, and while I don't think that's incorrect I do think in some ways it overstates its point. however, I actually think that something specifically about narrative framing (as in, not taking any content changes in mind) here might, perhaps unintuitively, contribute to why the Jin Guangyao of the novel is a more sympathetic figure than The Untamed (tries to) make him.

(once again I came out of CQL like Jin Guangyao Made Many Valid Points, Was If Not Right At Least 75% Justified so like. I actually don't think The Untamed was as good at making Jin Guangyao a Straight Up Villain as it was trying to be. I have thoughts about Zhu Zanjin actively acting against script and how you can feel him pulling against the prevailing narrative and I have thoughts about how that actually interacts very nicely with the way Jin Guangyao in every version of the story is pulling against a prevailing narrative that wants to relegate him to the margins in one way or another. but that's a major sidebar.)

holy hell I wrote an essay so putting the rest of this under a read more.

The point is that I think there's a few things happening here - I will note, first of all, that I don't think we actually are introduced to Jin Guangyao as a villain in MDZS. I believe the first mentions we get of him are actually fairly positive. I went back and checked, and he's mentioned a couple times early on just to note his position as Chief Cultivator (in pretty neutral to positive terms), then identified as the person who gave Jin Ling Fairy, and a few other times including the explanation that he executed Xue Yang to "show that things were going to be different." Pretty shortly after that is the scene where Wei Wuxian finds the kids playing Sunshot Campaign to see how Jin Guangyao is portrayed there (because that's a solid proxy for perception more broadly) and it's pretty complimentary!

"In these types of games, the role of the now-grand-beyond-measure Chief Cultivator, Lianfang-zun, was naturally very popular. Though he had come from a background that most people found too embarrassing to even mention, it was for this very reason that they sighed in admiration over how he'd succeeded in climbing to the top of the cultivation world. [...] He fully deserved the title, and could even be considered a legend of his time. If Wei Wuxian had been playing this game, he also would have wanted to try being Jin Guangyao." (Dew, Part 5)

I do think that's worth remembering, that it's not an immediate jump into "Jin Guangyao bad"; it happens pretty fast but not immediately.

However, it is true that by the time we actually meet Jin Guangyao on page he is under pretty heavy suspicion, and pretty shortly after that is the Empathy sequence, which involves a lot of heavy judgment on Wei Wuxian's part (a very unbiased narrator! of course!) of Jin Guangyao's badness. though that's also the sequence that reveals Jin Guangyao's involvement in saving Lan Xichen, his maltreatment by cultivators in general and Nie Mingjue in particular. So it's...complicated.

But in general, this kind of arc (starting with a character who seems fishy/suspicious or even evil, gradually revealing later on the more sympathetic aspects and drawing a fuller, more nuanced picture of them that's very far from a blanket condemnation and also gets a lot of sympathy from the narrative) is very characteristic of MXTX. She does it all the time, in all three of her books, with pretty much all her antagonists.

(SPOILERS FOLLOW: Shen Qingqiu in SVSSS starts out as a lecherous scum villain who deserves his horrible death and ends as a decidedly tragic and fairly miserable figure that even his #1 hater feels pity for, Tianlang-jun in same is an all-powerful demon lord, terror of the cultivation world -- and he was wrongly accused because the Old Palace Master coveted Su Xiyan. Xue Yang is introduced as a mass murderer and closes as a hand clutching a treasured candy. Jun Wu in TGCF receives the bamboo hat after Xie Lian's beaten him in a truly remarkable gesture of compassion.

Wei Wuxian himself, who is introduced in the first lines of the novel as a terrible evil that has been defeated - this one gets quickly overturned but the fact that it begins there is still significant. I could keep going.)

and while I feel like that's led to some problems in the discourse (namely, people make up their mind about who Jin Guangyao is right off the bat and then dismiss anything that doesn't suit that initial assumption as either false or irrelevant), I also think it's a pretty compelling way to lay out her characters, and does some very interesting things in terms of...challenging the reader to be willing to overwrite some of those early assumptions, being willing to make that change in how they assess a character (or person). I mean, that's a big part of the plot of SVSSS, actually: many of the problems are caused by Shen Qingqiu's unwillingness or inability to see that Luo Binghe is not the character he knew him as from PIDW - that Luo Binghe has changed because of Shen Yuan's decisions. The misunderstandings after Luo Binghe's plunge into the Abyss stem, in a lot of ways, from Shen Qingqiu continuing to assume that Luo Binghe is thinking and acting exactly as his counterpart would, instead of looking at the person who is actually in front of him.

So too, I think the reader is meant to do those same kinds of reassessments in MDZS as character details are parceled out. Notably, the information about Sisi and the Guanyin Temple statue is only revealed after Jin Guangyao is already dead. Everything has already happened, so why put that information in the text? It's one more signpost that says you thought you knew everything but there's still more to complicate the picture and make this even more of a tragedy. You see the same thing with Jiang Cheng and the golden core reveal at the very end - everything has already happened, the great confrontation has already gone down, but here's one more thing. Maybe it doesn't change anything in terms of the narrative, but it's there, it's important.

Now, the problem comes, I think, when people are unwilling to flex on that initial unfavorable impression, and I feel like particularly right now in general a lot of people are unwilling to...change their minds? on things? or to admit they were wrong or maybe making a judgment prematurely? And most obviously this is an issue irl all over the place but I think it happens in fiction, too. The irony here is, of course, that it's replicating exactly how cultivation society in-text responds to Jin Guangyao, namely by taking one thing about him and deciding that says everything about him, regardless of what he does.

To turn to CQL, now...I'm going to be talking about narrative structure from an Anglophone perspective because that's what I know, and that's the part of fandom I primarily engage with, recognizing that what I'm going to say about story patterns may not hold true in Chinese literature; I've read too little of it to say.

I actually think it's interesting that I actually think, while CQL is on the face of it presenting a more sympathetic look at Jin Guangyao to begin with, by putting it in a linear order where the viewer more or less knows what's going on with him through the course of the whole story in chronological order is actually in some ways a villain edit in and of itself without the extra dumping of all the bad things ever being his fault. I say that because that's actually, as a narrative arc, a very familiar one in terms of the path it follows. "Innocent young man falls into villainy" is a classic villain creation trope - and while often it can make for a sympathetic villain it is very much a story that arcs from good > bad > dead.

When it's set up in that linear sort of way, aligned with that sort of familiar path, the reader (viewer) is almost set up to expect what comes; as soon as episode 10 rolls around and Jin Guangyao does something questionable, there's an easy and immediate jump to "oh, so he's going to be one of those" and from there everything he does must be, by the logic of that familiar story, part of that path. He can't get better from there; that's not how it works. He can have a redemptive moment before death, perhaps, but overall once that downward arc begins, the expectation isn't that it'll reverse, and it's a challenge to convince people not to view the rest of the character's story - and potentially back-read into their previous actions - in a suspicious light at best or an actively hostile one at worst.

(Interestingly, I have thoughts/feelings on the way that Wei Wuxian's arc interacts with that sort of story path, which is to say as I've talked about before Wei Wuxian's first life is classic villain origin story. "A smart, clever young man with a healthy dose of hubris acquires sinister powers, gradually gets more unstable and separated from society, and ultimately goes full villain" is the basic outline of Wei Wuxian's story before his resurrection, and that is, I want to emphasize, a villain story. Obviously it doesn't end up framed that way, but viewed from outside that's what it is. The fact that he's extricated from it and gets another chance doesn't actually unwrite that - it gives him another chance.)

So CQL!Jin Guangyao might start out as a more sympathetic-seeming figure than MDZS!Jin Guangyao does, but by virtue of the linearity of his arc on screen (following a familiar narrative path to an inevitable end), I think he's pre-set up to be intractably cast in the villain role, where MDZS!Jin Guangyao, because the reveals of information about him are non-linear, wobbles more. Because the reader doesn't have all the information it (potentially) forestalls making final judgment, or at least calls for a reexamination of judgment. That interrupted arc, with its side trips and detours and glimpses of another story in which Jin Guangyao could've been the protagonist (the brothel flashback occurs to me), makes it potentially a little less easy to mark Jin Guangyao in the villain box and keep him there for forty episodes.

I would say, in general, that the novel encourages a more sympathetic read of Jin Guangyao. But I do think what you've noted here is worth remembering: CQL doesn't present him as a villain or even as sketchy from the start, and the difference is clear in the form of two characters who project "I'm a bad person!" in every scene they're in from the beginning: Wen Ruohan, and to a lesser extent Jin Guangshan.

#conversating #flamingwell #jin guangyao #lise does meta #the sad queer cultivators show #thanks for giving me the opportunity to spend FAR too long writing this and looking up quotes and shit #much appreciated way to spend my afternoon #instead of working

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ghoulangerlee · 5 months

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t4t copiaether agenda with one of the prompts from that list i reblogged bc this is For Myself :) self care and self love etc etc etc

still set in the same verse where Copia, Aether and Dew are in love and together, immediately post tour when Copia and Dew return to their boy :) (tho not canon with the two fics I wrote on AO3......or is it? Aether's magic bits)

cw for overstimulation and crying but in a sexy way :)

“Do that again- Shit, just like that, right there.”

Aether's chest heaves against Copia's ear—he's taking a moment, just one, to lean in close, to listen to the ghoul's steady and strong, rapid heartbeat, settling into the mindset of he's here, we're here, I'm never leaving him again.

"Love," Aether mumbles, slurs out as a hand comes up to pet through Copia's hair, blunt and human nails scratching against his scalp, "You okay?"

Copia hums softly, leaning up into Aether's touch, lifting his head just enough so he can gaze at the love struck, cock drunk look on Aether's face. "Perfect," he says, stretching his way up over Aether so he can press a kiss to his lips, the movement of it all shifting his cock in a way that has Aether's fingers tightening in his hair and his other hand scrabbling for purchase against the mussed sheets of the bed.

A moan, from one of them or both, neither are sure, but when Copia breaks from the kiss, there's a glazed look in Aether's eyes, pupils swallowing up the iris until only black remains. "I love you," he says, the words falling from his lips—but before Aether's able to answer, to draw Copia into another kiss, he's pulling away, settling back on his knees.

Copia's cock, one of the many things that Aether loves about him, is something that had been lovingly picked out, something that Aether had chosen to try—a perfect fit, not too long but thick enough that if Aether wants to feel the ache of it, he will.

And while Copia has plenty of different ones to choose from, they always settle on that one; it's something horrifically romantic and it never fails to make Dew roll his eyes and tease Aether about never wanting to branch out.

It doesn't matter, though, because it's special to Copia in the same way he'd gotten a special harness, just for that one, one that Aether's developed a response to—a dark purple leather that's soft to the touch, sturdy so when Aether's feeling particularly controlling, he can grip onto the straps and guide Copia just how he wants him.

It's the same one now that Aether can feel against his inner thighs each time Copia fucks back into him, soft, skin warmed leather pressing deep brands into him with each low grunt the movement pulls out of him.

Copia only ever really teases Dew unless Aether specifically asks for it, a song and dance that they've had years to perfect; but even now this feels like teasing because Aether's so out of his mind with it that he's not sure if he wants to come only on Copia's cock or if he wants help.

He whines when Copia presses in close, grinds into him deep and filthy with a steady roll of his hips—a choked sound leaves his mouth then, his cock pressing just right enough for him to—

“Do that again- Shit, just like that, right there.”

Copia laughs, a breathless sound that drives another spike of arousal through Aether, "Are you going to come like that if I do?" He asks, though he's so good and complies, keeps grinding his cock against that spot inside Aether that has him squirming on the bed, trying to chase the feeling of it.

"Uh huh," Aether manages to spit out as he tosses his head back and grips tightly onto Copia's thigh, working his fingers under the harness so he can keep Copia right where he wants him. "Uh huh," he repeats, his breath whooshing out of him in one fell swoop as he feels it crest, that low simmer in his veins turning into a bright explosion behind his eyelids as his eyes slam closed and he clenches up tight around Copia's cock, breathlessly pleading for Copia to keep moving.

And he does, he listens and settles a hand on Aether's shaking thigh, keeping him from closing them as he continues grinding into him until Aether's whimpering, letting go of him all at once to cover his own face with both of his hands.

It's only when Copia notices that Aether's shaking does he actually stop, not quite pulling out just yet as he settles his weight on Aether to help ground him.

"You did so well," he murmurs against Aether's hand covering his face, pressing kisses across his knuckles, "Letting me give you what you wanted," he continues, before he's gently prying Aether's hands away, "There you are," he says sweetly, pressing their mouths together in a brief kiss—he doesn't call attention to the wetness of Aether's eyes, feels his own emotions bubble up in him as the months spent apart melt away into nothingness now that he's finally got Aether again.

"I love you," Aether says, voice shaky, "I missed you, I'm glad you're home." His arms wrap around Copia, holding him tightly.

Copia sinks into the embrace, pressing another kiss to Aether's mouth, sweet and light, "I love you too, I'll never leave you again," he promises in the low light of their bedroom, resting their foreheads together.

Aether makes a soft noise, hands splayed across Copia's lower back, in the back of his mind he knows that Copia's finally home for good, but hearing it said, makes the remaining anxiety in his mind disapate.

"Dew's going to be obnoxious about this," Aether mumbles with a little laugh as he feels Copia gently wipe away his tears. "You know how he likes being here whenever I cry."

Copia snorts softly, nuzzling his nose against Aether's, "I'll fuck him to tears too if he starts teasing you about it," he mumbles, and Aether laughs again, sliding his hands up Copia's back to cup the back of his head.

"Easy now," Aether murmurs, "None of that, you're being good for me right now, aren't you, darling?"

Something in Copia shudders a bit and he nods, eyes fluttering, "I am," he mumbles, accepting the kiss that Aether presses to his mouth.

"Good," Aether praises him, sinking his fingers into Copia's hair, "Give me a few minutes and I'll reward your thoughtfulness and focus on me," he purrs, pulling him in for another kiss, this one slower and longer, deeper as Aether licks his way into Copia's mouth.

"Yeah, okay," Copia mumbles a bit dumbly when they part, exhaling soft, shuddering breaths. "I'm all yours."

Aether laughs and pets his fingers against Copia's scalp, "Yeah, you are." he teases, pulling Copia down to rest his head back against his chest, just over where his heart beats loud and steady in his chest.

#copiaether #the band ghost fic #my writing

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miasmaghoul · 11 months

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HELLOOOO

okay so

I have an unusual question

I recently discovered my passion for writing, I've been inspired by a friend of mine and a bunch of blogs here on tumblr (including yours <3)

and now I'm trying to write smut for the first time and I feel like... embarrassed about it (?)

sooo, feel free to ignore but I wanted to ask: do you have any smut-writing-tip for rookies like me?

(forgive my poor english, pls)

First off, CONGRATULATIONS ON FINDING A NEW PASSION!!! That's a fantastic feeling. ♡

I know just what you mean about feeling wiggly about writing smut. I don't know a single writer who DIDN'T have this experience when they first wrote filth! There is a shockingly vast distance between having filthy ideas and actually typing them out. I assure you that this is perfectly normal!

Before I give my advice, please let me say that I am in no way a professional writer, so your mileage may vary here. This is what worked for my hypersexual ND brain back when I first started doing this at the tender age of [REDACTED]

My advice is this: start simple. (18+ under the cut)

Don't try to go all in during your first smut adventure - not everything needs to be an intense, intricate bondage scene featuring medieval torture equipment and a mustachioed man called Hamish. Choose something uncomplicated and more natural for your first time out - a max of two people, a simple act (i.e., a handjob) or acts (i.e., making out and mutual masturbation) and an easy to describe setting.

Next, don't worry about making it good in your first draft. Use that time to lay out the scene (x crawls into bed and y joins them, spooning up against their back) and setting up the bare bones of the events (y kisses x's shoulder and neck, reaches between their legs, uses their hand to get x off). Once you've done that, you can start describing things.

It's probably gonna one of two ways - clinical or over the top.

Clinical generally means that you're too literal and precise with your descriptions. For example:

Rain reached down and took Dew's cock in his hand. He stroked it from base to tip, over and over. He sped up once Dew started moaning and felt his own cock hardening as well. He worked Dew's cock until Dew came all over his hand and then grabbed his own cock to do the same.

See? Clinical. It gets the job done in terms of relaying information, but there's no emotion behind the words. No sound, no movement, no life. Things that I, personally, believe a sex scene needs in order to feel believable and real.

The opposite of this is the over the top sex scene. Think of this like watching really bad porn. The kind where people moan like they're about to cum when someone touches their arm, y'know what I mean? Tons of moaning and writhing and too much response to the slightest stimulation. Don't get me wrong, there's certainly a time and place for Dew jizzing himself over Rain licking his neck, but if your whole scene is set up like that it, I personally believe it becomes Too Much.

Ideally, I think, you want to strike a balance between these two things. You want to explain what's happening, but use language and descriptors that are more intimate and sensual. Which brings me to my third point - try to figure out the words and phrasing you're comfortable using before you really get into writing anything. If you don't like the way the words feel, don't use them! That alone can help make things easier to write. (As an example, outside of very specific circumstances, I hate using the word "pussy" and will avoid writing it!)

Perhaps my biggest tip is being very confident in your characters before you make 'em fuck. In my opinion. A bad/boring sex scene is one where the characters feel interchangeable. Think of it like this: a scene with Aether giving Swiss a blowjob should not be able to be read as a scene with Rain giving Dew a blowjob instead. It should feel unique, however you choose to make that happen.

Last bit of advice is probably the most obvious one: practice. Practice practice practice. Something sounds hot in your head? Write that shit down. Stick it in your notes app, even if it's just a few words. Practice by putting little scenes together in your head and then transcribing what's happening in them. Watch something erotic and think about how you would write that scene. Think of it like exposure therapy - the more you create smut, the less ashamed you'll be about it!

I will say it also helps to have a smut writer/enjoyer friend (or friends!) to bounce ideas off of, or to ask for advice. If you're planning to be active in the Ghost fandom, I can tell you that every single writer and artist I've interacted with here has been incredibly kind and welcoming. Don't be afraid to reach out!

This got so long lmao SORRYYYY

#miasma says #writing advice #i guess?

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dustofthedailylife · 2 years

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Happy Birthday, My Love

→ Masterlist

Summary: It's your birthday and Ayato had an idea how he could surprise you

Pairing: Ayato x Reader (gn!)

Warnings: None; Just domestic fluff, comfort and crack at the end

A/N: This is a repost because the post I scheduled on the day of my birthday the 7th did not show up in the tags at all... yay? Anyway - Happy birthday to... me - Haha, yup, I basically wrote this for myself as a comfort piece and to get back into writing after my exams... and as a purely self-indulgent comfort fic (and I'm not sorry). Hope you enjoy this as well :3

When you woke up the first rays of sunshine peeked through the closed curtains of your shared bedroom. A look to the right revealed that the other side of the bed was empty - which was nothing unusual, you assumed your husband had already started working again and was hunched over his desk in the study, working through the endless piles of paperwork.

You sat up and stretched out your limbs, wiping the sleep out of your eyes with the back of your hand before you got up. You opened the curtains to let the warm light seep into your pores and basked in the cozy comfort of the sun of the early fall morning. You could see mist rising up from the forest near the Kamisato Estate and the air smelled like fallen leaves and morning dew.

It seemingly was a perfect and comfortable fall morning but the absence of your husband today specifically bothered you more than you liked to admit and the reason for that was quite simple - today was your birthday and admittedly, you were just a little disappointed he didn’t even take today off to spend it together with you. Did he seriously forget?

You sighed deeply as you attempted to shrug it off. It was just another day, right? It wasn’t that important and you had him around every single day of your life after all.

You kept searching around the estate, in the courtyard and in his room, yet Thoma was nowhere to be found. Just as you walked towards the study of your husband assuming Thoma would happen to be in Ayato’s study as well and assisting him with his extensive paperwork, you ran into Akari, one of the maids of the estate.

You walked out of your bedroom to see if you could find Thoma, maybe he’d have time to go grab breakfast together with you in Inazuma City. You could technically also go and ask Ayato but you did not wish to disturb him. You knew how busy he was due to the immense workload that was constantly weighing him down.

“Oh! Good morning, Akari!”, you greeted. “You wouldn’t coincidentally know where Thoma is at?”

“Good morning, Mx. Kamisato! I’ve seen him head to the kitchen earlier, I think.”

Of course, how come you didn’t think to check there yet, the kitchen was almost Thoma’s second room after all.

“Thank you!”, you slightly bowed your head down before turning around on your heels and heading for the kitchen.

“Oh excuse me, Mx. Kamisato!”, Akari called out for you, making you halt in your tracks and look back over your shoulder. “Happy Birthday!”

“Oh, thank you!”, you smiled while simultaneously feeling a slight lump form in your throat because it made you realize that even the staff remembered your birthday but not your husband. You were just slightly disappointed but it wasn’t that important. Right?

The closer you got to the kitchen, the more the air smelled like flour, warm and aromatic. Someone was definitely baking something and your mouth started watering at the mere thought of some pancakes or your favorite cake for your birthday breakfast.

“Thoma!”, you cheered as you slipped into the kitchen. “Would you like t–”

You halted in your tracks at the sight that greeted you instead. Not Thoma but Ayato was standing behind the counter. Speckles of flour were sticking to his forehead and cheek, he was wearing his kimono loosely, which also didn’t manage get out of his baking attempt unscathed, his hair was still messy from sleeping and the entire kitchen was thrown into complete disarray. Several bowls were standing in the sink, flour was covering the entire countertop and all sorts of opened packages were standing around loosely.

Ayato was just coating a delicious looking cake with chocolate and sprinkling some sakura shaped sugar pearls on top of it.

You were so stunned by the scene in front of your eyes that you had forgotten what you came here for in the first place and were too baffled to speak. You looked up to Ayato, scanning his face and looking deep into his loving lavender eyes and holding back a chuckle as you reached for his cheek, wiping away some stray speckles of molten chocolate. How did he even manage to completely smear all sorts of ingredients of the cake in his face, on his kimono and all over the kitchen?

“My love! You’re already awake?”, he asked in surprise as he turned around toward the door where you stood, before wiping his hands on his kimono. That certainly explained how all the stains on it came to be.

He headed over to you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. Ayato looked over to the clock on the wall before smiling lightly. “Seems like I’ve already been up for longer than I had thought”

“What are you doing here?”, you asked amusedly.

“Baking a birthday cake for you, of course.”

“You made this for me? All on your own?”, you remarked as you could feel some tears of joy form in the corners of your eyes. You already thought he had forgotten about your birthday, yet he had gotten up so early to bake a cake to surprise you with.

“Well… in all honesty. Thoma gave me the recipe, but I insisted on baking alone and I think… it turned out quite excellent, if I do say so myself.”, he smiled proudly, taking you by your hand and leading you over to where the cake stood on the counter. He pulled out the stool in front of it for you and motioned you to sit down, while he cut a piece of the cake and stuck some candles into it which he then lit.

“Happy Birthday, love. Make a wish!”, he held the cake out in front of you with a proud shine in his eyes. Everything was so perfectly ridiculous at that moment that some happy tears glistened in the corners of your eyes as you blew out the candles and wished to spend many more moments just like this one together with him. You thought it wasn’t possible to love this man even more than you already did but he had proven you wrong once again.

“I had already assumed you had forgotten about my birthday when I saw you had gotten up already.”, you admitted.

“Nonsense! How could I ever forget about you!”, he replied, playfully acting offended at your accusation and handing you a fork. “Dig in!”

You grabbed the fork and put a big piece of the cake in your mouth. At that moment the first anticipation dissipated into thin air. When the spongy cake came in contact with your tastebuds you expected light sweetness but instead all you could taste was salt.

You involuntarily scrunched your face up while Ayato’s facial expression completely derailed into a mix between shock and concern, which made you chuckle in amusement.

“Is anything wrong?”, he asked with evident worry in his voice.

You held out the plate for him as he took a bite of the cake himself, mirroring the exact same scrunched up expression you've just had as well when you had tried it.

“Honey, I think you might have mixed up some ingredients. Did you happen to try the batter before you put it in the oven?”

“No I-...", he huffed, scratching the back of his head displeased. "Well, that most certainly was not sugar.”

“Nope'', you chuckled.

“I’m so sorry, love, I-”

“Shh! Be quiet!”, you put your finger on his lips, effectively shutting him up before pulling him closer and replacing your finger with your lips, softly sharing the taste of salt that now lingered on both of your lips. “I love you!”, you whispered as you smiled against his lips, feeling the butterflies flutter about in your stomach just like they did on the very first day you met him.

“I love you, too. More than you know.”, he whispered in response, smiling at you lovingly while brushing softly over your cheek with his thumb and resting his forehead against yours. Both of you basking in each other’s comforting presence.

“So uhm… what are we going to do about the cake?”, you inquired after a short moment of silence. Ayato scratched the back of his neck awkwardly while eyeing the cake with a slight frown.

“I guess, I’ll just give it to Thoma.”

“Oh, archons…”, you laughed out loud. “You should really give him a raise if he actually eats this.”

“Yeah… maybe I should.”

Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #ayato x reader #genshin x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin imagines #genshin x you #ayato x you #ayato x y/n #genshin x female reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x y/n #genshin scenarios #kamisato ayato #🍁 dust writes

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alwaysjustmina · 5 months

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19 but specifically the dew thingy you told me? 😃

19 - snippets of WIPs

As you all know @jazz-bazz has hand written all the letters from my story Letters to Dewdrop and I had said I may have more letters in the future from Dew. While I don't have anything written, my idea is for after Whispers to Rain, is that Dew is trying to heal and he will be away for awhile at a cottage by a lake away from the abbey, either by himself or with others. He will have the letters Rain wrote with him and it will give him the idea to do the same, to get his feelings down on paper for Rain to read at a later date. These will be incredibly hard for him to write as it will explain his thoughts on what he went through, how he feels about Rain and what happened at the end of Whispers. It will be part of the next story arc and will more than likely start after January.

And since I needed clarification on for sure what Jazz wanted, I have also included upon request part of feral Rain/Dew that I'm working on for an anon. It is a follow-up to @papaslittlesunshine

Snippet (not edited yet):

“You look like shit.” Wow. Words from Dew for the first time in weeks.

He just shrugged and went to the counter to serve himself from the serving dishes. Quickly sitting as far from Dew as he could, wishing he could dissolve into the floor.

They both ate, Rain not knowing that Dew kept looking at him with a pensive look on his face. Even though they were far apart at the table the scent of Dew permeated his every pore. He could feel the fire in his gut intensifying as he sat there longer. Rain wasn’t going to let Dew chase him from this last meal though, he need this last bit of normalcy before it all fell apart for a few weeks.

Dew watched him from the other end of the table, Rain was hunched over his plate, not a normal occurrence, he was always so proper. Between the forkfuls of greens and succulent bits of fish, Dew noticed Rain grasping at his stomach, the quiet keens under his breath. It dawned on Dew that Rain was very near his heat cycle. Desire coursed this him at the thought of Rain once more under his body, writhing in pleasure, only brought on by Dew.

“I would think you would be in your room this close to your cycle.”

Rain’s eyes shot up, his brow furrowed, his eyes, the chocolate bottomless pools, sadness flashed across them. All he could mumble was a soft plea, a plea to leave him alone to suffer in his absolute sadness by himself. He would not cry in front of Dew, he promised himself, even as tears flooded his eyes, threatening to spill over. He quickly looked away, back to his plate.

Dew couldn’t stop himself from his questions, he knew what he had said to Rain. He had meant it, but the reasons behind it were his own. Even as he sat there though, his vision filled with Rain, Rain suffering, he wondered how he would make it through this time on his own. He had heard that he was planning to be by himself.

“Did you not find someone to spend it with?” Rain barely heard Dew with how quietly the words were uttered from his mouth.

“Why do you care, Dew, what does it matter to you what I am doing?”

Dew sighed at the response, “Rain, I still care about you.”

“CARE? H-How, Can’t you just, just, fuck, just leave me alone?” He practically shouted, sputtering the words between the tears that cascaded down his face.

“Of course I care about you, how can you even think I don’t.”

Rain pushed his chair back, the legs sliding across the floor with tremendous sound, echoing through the quiet den. No one to hear it except for the two of them. He gripped the table, as the chair fell over behind him, his plate sliding precariously close to the edge of the table. “Fuck you, Dew.”

Rain rushed to put his plate in the sink behind them, stumbling in his hurried frenzy to get back to the safety of his room, away from Dew, away from the hurt. He didn’t hear Dew push back from the table, his chair silent in comparison to Rain’s. He didn’t hear Dew walk behind him to the sink, he didn’t realize Dew had his arms on both sides around him, until he felt the heat of his body.

“D-Dew, please.”

Dew couldn’t stop himself as he crowded into Rain, nuzzling the strong muscles of Rain’s back against his face. “I miss you.” The words just slipping from his mouth.

Dew could feel Rain’s body tremble against his, he brought his hands front he counter to embrace his body, pulling him in close.

“My heart, is fucking, brok-broken,” Rain sobbed, unable to stop himself as Dew encapsulated him in his arms. Why did it feel so good, but break him apart even more.

Dew turned Rain’s body from the sink to face him, holding him close, Rain barely hanging on his, his arms loose at this side, the rejection he felt wracking his body all over.

Never be anything more.

It repeated in his head, over and over again. He went to push away from Dew, but his strong grip kept him between his arms. He brought his arms to pound at his chest, he couldn’t do this again, even through all the hurt he was still fucking in love with him.

“Please, please Dew, you are fucking killing me.” He begged.

Dew brought his right hand up to wipe away Rain’s tears as they flowed down his cheeks. He didn’t want to hurt Rain, he cared for him so much, but when Rain said he loved him, he shut down. He wasn’t worth his love, Rain was beautiful and pure, Dew was a demon, debauched and devious. He couldn’t give him the love he deserved even more after hearing the things his past relationships had said about him after they ended things. He didn’t think he’d survive the aftermath of Rain saying those things. Rain looking at him with hate in his eyes, it was better to end things now rather than face the hurt later that was inevitable.

Standing here though, with Rain in his arms, he questioned his absolute stupidity. The decision to hurt Rain, rather than letting Rain hurt him later, why would he do that to him.

“Rain,” he murmured next to his neck, inhaling him, he was intoxicating. Being this close to Rain was going to throw him headlong into his heat. He could feel both of their arousal despite the pain of the loss of the other.

“Dew, please, I can’t handle you this close, I was just learning to live without you.”

“I don’t want you to live without me.”

#rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #nameless ghouls #snippet #mina writes #ghost fan fiction #fan fiction #raindrop #something in the orange #letters to dewdrop #whispers of rain #ask game #mina answers

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marvel-ous-m · 10 months

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18. “I shouldn’t be in love with you.”

and/or

24. “Are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

Hey Anon! I decided to go with #18, "I shouldn't be in love with you." I have literally been thinking on this for a MONTH about #24 and coming up with nothing ;^( But I hope you enjoy what I wrote for prompt #18!

CW for drug use (weed), 'queer' used as a slur, slut shaming, and also Steve having bad parents (specifically a bad mom).

AO3 Link

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The dew-kissed grass tickles Steve’s skin, making him shiver every few minutes, each time the summer wind whips in just the right way. He’s laying in his backyard in gym shorts and a crop top, leaving the majority of his skin exposed to the elements.

Oh, and he’s passing a joint back and forth between himself and Eddie, the two of them giggling about what could only be described as ‘everything and nothing, all at once’.

An uninvited thought invades his mind as Steve takes a drag from the joint: If his mother saw him right now, she’d be furious.

But she’s not here. Eddie is. And that wonderful, warm, floaty feeling he gets whenever he’s high is here, too.

How could a woman who Steve hadn’t seen in three years ruin a moment like this? Steve tries to steer his thinking in a different direction, tries desperately to focus on Eddie’s current tangent instead (he’s rambling about… bugs?).

His efforts are wasted, and the slice of heaven that he was previously basking in is ripped away, replaced with a mental manifestation of his mother.

She’s in a long, pale green dress. She always appears that way when Steve pictures her berating him. A pristine white apron is tied around her waist. Her blonde curls frame her face delicately, and her painted red lips form a picture-perfect scowl.

“How dare you deface our family home like this, Steven? Smoking marijuana in our backyard. If I didn’t raise you, I’d think you were brought up by a pack of wolves.”

Steve rolls his eyes. She didn’t raise him. That’s, like… the whole point.

"And that outfit, Steven. Honestly, are you trying to dress like a whore? Or does that come naturally to you now?"

And… okay, that one hurt a little. These shorts were comfy, and Eddie loved how he looked in this shirt! It wasn’t him sexualizing himself, he was just trying to feel comfortable and confident around a friend.

"Oh… I see how it is." His mother’s voice grows cold and her red scowl shifts into a sickening grin. Steve shivers, despite there being no summer breeze making his skin prickle in just the right way. "Marijuana. Slutty clothes. The way you’re practically sitting in his lap." (They were about a foot apart, barely close enough to hold hands, but whatever). "You’re flirting with him."

Damn, Steve really hated how perceptive his inner-monologue-taking-the-form-of-his-chastising-mother was.

“I could spend the time berating you about being a queer. Or about your choice in men. Or about the way you’re too chicken shit to even tell him how you feel. But… honestly Steven, you’re not worth the effort. The only thing you’ve ever succeeded at is making me disappointed, and if you form a relationship with this boy, I’m sure he’ll come to think the same of you."

At the end of his mother’s tirade, Steve finds himself holding back tears. She doesn’t even think he’s worth the effort.

She’s not here, Steve’s brain reminds him. But Eddie is. Steve blinks, and his mother is gone, quickly replaced by the shining stars in the Hawkins night sky.

Steve smiles to himself. Eddie’s still here.

His brain-to-mouth filter, though? That got left behind about fifteen minutes ago.

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice jolts Steve from his internal ventures. Steve glances over at him and feels like he’s staring at the sun when he sees Eddie’s smile. Eddie’s lying on his side, facing Steve, the residual concern on his face slowly disappearing. “There you are, Stevie. I noticed you were more space-y than usual. Where’d you go?” Eddie reaches his hand over while he speaks, brushing a stray hair out of Steve’s face.

“I shouldn’t be in love with you.” Steve blurts in response, then slaps a hand over his mouth. Shit, he didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“What?” Eddie’s hand stills, and his golden smile slips into an unreadable expression. Which… fair, considering they’re not even in a relationship, and Steve both confessed his love and what probably sounded like regret in a single sentence.

“I-I shouldn’t be in love with you. It goes against, like, everything that my parents ever tried to instill in me. My mom especially.” Steve grimaces, then shifts his body, turning to lay on his side. Eddie’s face (Eddie’s lips), Steve notes, are mere inches away.

“But… you’re here. They’re not. She’s not. So… I don’t think I give a fuck about what my mom thinks. I think that I love you. No- I know that I love you.”

Eddie’s cheeks turn pink, and the corners of his lips quirk up in a shy smile. Eddie’s hand that was previously frozen next to Steve’s face moves to cup Steve’s cheek. “Yeah? Well, I think… I know that I love you, too.” Eddie leans forward as he whispers, punctuating his admission with a kiss.

Steve melts into it, bringing his hand up to rest on top of Eddie’s. When they part, Steve smiles against Eddie’s lips.

“You’re everything, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles back and presses a chaste to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “So are you, baby. You’re everything to me.”

Steve’s mom may have thought Steve wasn’t worth the effort, but y'know what? She wasn’t worth the effort, either.

Eddie, though? Eddie was everything. And at Eddie’s echoed sentiment, Steve finally felt like he was everything to someone, too.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #em writes #my ask box #ask box #steddie getting together #steve harrington has bad parents #steve harrington needs a hug #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #steddie fic #steddie ficlet

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everybodyshusband · 9 months

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you wrote a headcanon list a little bit ago about rain using crutches while regressed. i would absolutely love if you would either expand on that or write something with that happening (feel free to take your time with this! your regression fics are just very comforting to me and i really enjoy them, i am just very interested in this idea)

eek, okay !!! thank you enabling me in my regressed rain ramblings, dearest anon <3 i'm going to write out a few headcanons for you, because i've got a few other asks requesting a little rain with crutches ficlet ! so eventually, a ficlet about this will appear as well :)

i'd like to start off with a disclaimer that i am not a crutches user, so if any of this information is wrong or comes off in a way i don't intend it to, i'm sorry. please feel free to correct me, though !! i want to learn !!

my personal headcanons for rain are all over the place, haha !! but for the purposes of answering this lovely little ask, i'm going to use he/they pronouns for rain and i'm imagining them as being hypermobile :D i mentioned some of the not-so-specific specifics in the headcanon post you're referring to, but let's recap, shall we ?

when they're regressed, rain tends to have a slightly altered gait. he walks with his feet turned/rolled inwards which puts more pressure on his knees than usual, and sometimes this can lead to him being in more pain when he's regressed than when he isn't. while he does use crutches when he isn't regressed, he tends to need them more when he's small, so it's important that they have a set of crutches to use specifically when they're regressed !

and as for my actual crutch headcanons:

i like to imagine that the forearm crutches rain uses while they're regressed have a thicker grip, which helps to keep them feeling small when they use them. otherwise, his hands feel too big against the handle and it pushes him out of his regressed headspace too quickly

they decorate their crutches with stickers, they made sure to concentrate very hard in order to get the sticker placement just right !! the body of his crutches are covered in a monumental amount of stickers. they're mostly his own dinosaur stickers from sticker sheets that swiss has given him, but dew and swiss chipped in a few flame ones that go up the length of the crutches, sunshine and aether gave him lots of small and brightly coloured stars. there's also a few little clouds (and raindrops, which make rain giggle every time he spots a new one because, well, rain) dotted about here and there from cirrus and cumulus, and mountain managed to find a couple of succulent stickers with little faces too !!

sometimes he ties ribbons to his crutches (read: he gets aether to do it for him) for a bit of extra flair, but they don't have the ribbons on all the time because depending on what they're doing that day, sometimes the ribbons get in the way

once he got so enthralled by the ribbons that they didn't look where they were going and fell over. he hurt himself quite badly, so the others cracked down some pretty intense ribbon-usage rules after that

now that they have a pair of decorated crutches to use when they're regressed, rain is more inclined to ask for them when he needs a helping hand to walk around. although, he's not immune to forgetting he needs them and being reprimanded by mountain for walking all the way down to the greenhouse without their mobility aids

i think that's about it for now :0 but i'm sure more thoughts will come to me at some stage, so if that happens i'll add onto the post in reblogs :) thank you for indulging me with this ask, lovely anon <3 i'm sorry for hoarding it for so long !!

#ask box #husband headcanons #regressed ghouls #rain ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 10 months

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HI ITS ME AGAIN good morrow tis i #1murielstan99 im coming out of my anon cage ihtdjvd aaaand uhh for my debut *ushers you into the living room to sit u down on a chair facing a makeshift stage consisting of more chairs a blanket and cardboard boxes. a banner of glued A4 printer paper reads "UR ALL REALLY COOL & I LIKE U THAnk you for tolᵉʳᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍᵐᵉ" in increasingly squished lettering. everything is covered in glitter* ive decided to ✨steal your gig✨ hkhfgdvjgd NO IM SORRY i just wrote you something yippiee!! its tiny i just felt inspired and i got so excited to try it its uh. kinda specific but it came to my head and the ideas just came so fast after i spent like 5 hours on this and didnt even notice them slip by lmao OK ROLL THE CLIP

MC and M6 are walking along a footpath/sidewalk together and along the way they happen upon a whole parade of snails/tiny frogs!!/earthworms/crabs?... (choose your own adventure i guess i cant make up my mind khgxhfx), that came out for a lil sip of the early morning dew, covering up a considerable distance of our duos way. theyre perfectly content to be living their best wet life and blissfully unaware they could get stepped on at any moment when people start to roll out of their houses to carry out their own busy schedules! MC shall categorically not allow that!!! they at first discreetly then with increasing urgency start picking up the little creatures and tossing them to the closest safest space in reach.

Julian: oh worm? yeah hes battled enough leeches in his day to have a good grip on this task. these dont even bite! this is gonna be *grabs snail too hard and hears a crack* OH fu-

some quick healing magic later he decides to observe you for a while at first to figure out the best approach, squatting next to you and fawning over how gentle you are and how many you can fit in your hand. he offers his gloves to you but they dont fit and only make it harder. tries again when he feels more confident and makes his way through the crowded path close behind you

Asra: sits himself down on the grass near you, teases you lovingly about how seriously youre taking your Hero of the Realm job, not letting a single endangered soul go unnoticed under your watch. helps a little, takes a break when his back starts to ache from bending down, gets some more again, feeds some to faust while youre not looking, and one when youre looking for good measure, uses a spell to move them dozens at once to make it faster when the sun starts to get too hot to stay for much longer

Nadia: applauds your devotion to protecting the environment but are you sure this doesnt qualify for an infestation and perhaps we should let natural selection run its course? in the end you spend enough time there for her to get invested too. Doesnt grab any by force, places her hand out and waits for something to catch a ride (in the snail scenario you just stare at her stoically holding the same position while the speciman inches towards her but when it boops into her finger it starts equally slowly turning around (to her hidden but great disappointment))

Muriel: you just give each other a look of determination and nod. commence operation Back in the Wild immediately. youre trained proffesionals, with countless hours of experience on the job gained on your forest patrols while dealing with more worn out mainstream dirtpaths used by a bigger population of people regularly and on early morning trips into town where you have encountered this scenario often enough. you got this covered.

you get your Tools of the Trade (never leave home withoutem) out of your pockets: glass jars magically perma-moistened with water to provide Ultimate💯Slippagge💯Comfort while simultaneously discouraging escape and little thin but blunt sticks (designed & made by the mountain himself) for lifting the snails heads up to get them to peel off the ground so as not to tear their shells off when picking them up/scooping up earthworms to grab them easier and gentler than with your fingers/stopping a tiny frog midjump and blocking it from escaping, try to get it to hop on the stick (thats the hardest one to get right. many attempts and abundant patience needed)/giving a crab the stick to pinch on to neutralize it, pop it in the jar baby

you work with sharp efficiency, well versed in all the techniques and get nearly all the little buddies out of harms way before the sun gets beaming too high & hot and they fry to a crisp. you exchange a fistbump put on your cool sunglasses awesomely and walk off with your back to a bunch of explosions, sick guitar licks and a disembodied "YYYEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!" audible in the distance. 💯💯💯🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💥⭐🤙🤙🤙🤘🤘life is good

Pasha: well we were kind of in a rush to get to a business meeting, and shes not exactly fond of the pests that she has been locked in eternal combat with in continued efforts to protect her garden, but. aww, they are pretty adorably tiny and helpless! alright lets do this quick! she holds out her skirt/jacket/apron as a container for you to place them into for safekeeping, when you collect them all she promptly YEETS them over onto the nearest green patch as is her signature move when getting intruders off of her prized parsleys & peppers. well. theyre small enough not to take fall damage anyway. you hope

Lucio: he keeps walking, after a minute notices MC lagging back, jogs back to you shouting to ask whats the holdup, proceeds to accidentally step on a snail. after a thorough scolding keeps his distance for a bit, refusing to pick up a single slimy little bastard no thank you hes had enough bad experience with that sort of thing he'll sit this one out. after 20 minutes of grumbling and pacing and watching you pitterpatter to n fro he gets to ground level to observe the critters. why do you even care cmon theyre so teeny weeny. pokes the snails on their lil eyestalks to his great amusement when they squash their faces into themselves. from there we work up to gentle picking up. he retches a lil when he sees you with a whole handful of wormies. hopes to god you didnt see that. you pretend you didnt💕

ok this is slightly less tiny than what i first had in mind and a lot more snail centered than advertised dgkhdtyfg wow you totally cant who i wrote this in mind with no favoritism here no siree anywAy this week was the most fun ive ever had i think. also after writing this i think i can safely say ive decided on a snail familiar for me xDD i can only hope youll enjoy this in some way lmao god i hope theres so weird incomprehensible mistakes i checked it like 27 times i swear ok im clicking send nnnnnnnnnnnnnnoW 321GOAAAHH

@tetsuooooooooooo hi!! I'm so excited to make a new friend!!

And oh. my. WORD, these kinds of scenarios are what makes headcanons some of my favorite fandom things to read! Thank you for sending this, friend, these are priceless and I love them!!! ^.^

The different reaction to the slimy little things, too, it's all too cute for me, and the sunglasses were such a perfect mental image for Muriel's B)

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana crack #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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