#no really the only reason ive been here this long is because of their writing. it sustains me. it keeps me alive. AND KEEPS ME DRAWIN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kisaraslover · 3 months

Note

DO U HAVE ANY BLUESHIPPING FIC REC?????PLEASENIMSTARVINGKSKSKKS

anon kskkasak ITS FINE ILL SAVE YOU OK? here goes:

Scenes from a Kaiba Marriage and Temptation by my blueshipping queen @kisara-kaiba as the opening. the peak of modern life blueshipping fluff, very lovesick, when im reading them its heart full, head empty. youre gonna be lucky to start them now cuz ill be rereading and drawing scenes from them this week👀. itll be like premium fanfic reading.

Enjambment -> this fic might be the single best written blueshipping fic by the virtue of MIRRORING their encounter in ancient Egypt beat by beat, including BOTH of their character arcs and the netflix show vibe of suspense and the sharp, cold and bleak setting is chefs kiss. changed my brain chemistry. still one of my favorite portrayals of Kisara.

Maiden with Eyes of Blue -> Sometimes time needs to slow down and a single scene should be a character study/ hashing out of things you needed acknowledged by canon, the situation is ESPECIALLY dire for Seto Kaiba as ive made my feelings on his writing known many times. This is it. Kisara isnt reincarnated in this one though, but her love for him can be felt in the air. Ngl you could just incorporate this into post canon and it would be fine. canon compliant+ canon enriching.

Shades of Water, Ice, and Sky -> I'm skimming through each fic to see what they were about and i just gotta say: why so heart-wrenching if so short?? theyre in love your honor.

Their Promise: Book I -> ok gonna be honest w you i havent finished this one and the main reason is that i cant go past the SPECTACULAR first chapter. ive started and failed to draw it in its entirety. i open it, i chew on the first chapter like a rabid dog, i close it more often than not. the second reason is it has a lot more angst and heartbreak than most blueship fics do and im weak to that sort of thing. still, if we follow their ancient egypt encounter beat by beat, which is a fantastic way of following and enriching the canon, their first meeting needs to be as kids with him saving her from a cage. chefs kiss.

who are you? -> JUST the right amount of Seto Kaiba immediate fixation obsession on Kisara (which means insanely obsessed)

You Will Crave Your Ancient Roots -> this is so good and so heartbreaking man. Seto and Atem are shot back into ancient Egypt and Seto is only able to slightly alter the events around Kisara. hes fated to fall for that woman every single time and *starts sobbing*

Ancient Rules -> all i gotta say is this Seto Kaiba gives me brainworms. hes chuck full of Passion and Cockiness and Insanity. blueshippers sometimes take out his insanity. he is very unsettling here i love it. Kisara is truly at his mercy..

never forget your first dream -> fem!Set and Kisara in ancient Egypt, this story twists more than just Seto's gender. im a yuri seto truther so its great to have written proof of it. jokes aside, very well characterized Set and Kisara, rich writing.

One in Forty -> pretty short but this one fundamentally changed how i viewed Kisara's canon influence over BEWD cards and her constant and unbendable favor around Seto. canon compliant + canon enriching.

ok so these are the cream of the crop for ME personally, might have forgotten some in my other folders, i might have missed reading some, its probably not all encompassing. but frankly ive liked and saved fics for a single resounding line, single funny joke, one interesting implication about the story or the characters the author wrote up so in my heart theyre all worth checking out, always. fanfic writers are carrying this ship on their backs and theyre all 9 ft tall and im just walking around them, clearing the path, giving them a sip of water and snacks etc. so THANK YOU BLUESHIPPING AUTHORS I LOVE YOUUUUUU

#yugioh #ygo #kisara #blueshipping #ask tag #seto kaiba #not art #fic rec #some king i am!!!#no really the only reason ive been here this long is because of their writing. it sustains me. it keeps me alive. AND KEEPS ME DRAWIN #mwah #fanart is a single moment of emotion. single second of love. fanfics able you to WATCH them love yknow? howling at the moon #i gotta tidy my folders i have more blueshipping fics than this i know it #im missing some im sure

51 notes · View notes

moonit3 · 6 months

Text

A LOYAL BUTLER pt. 2

➥ warnings/notices: yandere, nsfw, cunnilingus, handjob, blowjob, afab! reader, male! yandere, dom! reader, sub! yandere, kissing, dry humping, non penetration but smut, I don’t how to write moans so bare with me, implied overstimulation.

➥ synopsis: a party leads to an unexpected moment for you and elliot that makes the relationship even more intimate.

➥ yandere! butler x f! reader

➥ a/n: with the help and guidance of @taeee0902 , im bringing the second part of the story that many of you have been waiting for! keep in minds this is probably the now longest piece of the blog for now, also the most long smut ive write before \(//∇//)\ so im hoping to all of you enjoy this piece as i loved writing this one! also, this is part two of this post! so check it out for some context.

➥ it’s been a few weeks since you and elliot got closer than ever. letting his hands and lips going over your body during working hours, making you feel relieved after long days of paperwork and making you feel so much pleasure from his hands alone. to think he is doing it almost daily is insane, specially when it’s risky to be caught. one time, elliot touched you in the library, despite knowing there were servants around.

➥ the occasions when he isn’t touching nor speaking dirty things to your ears, elliot still helps with your family’s finances. despite being your lover behind the curtains, he still needs to be a presentable man to keep his job as your personal butler, but also to prevent anyone from finding it out the relationship you two share. elliot knows how many people wants to steal you away from him.

➥ “you are mine, [name]…” his hands holds your waist down to the bed, preventing you from escaping his touch as he teases your entrance. the lovely sounds coming out from your lips and seeing how your eyes are rolling back makes him smile. “none can see you like this but me, do you understand me?” the only thing you could do is nodded, too busy to speak when his fingers entered your hole and too much concentrated to not moan loudly, too focused to not moan out loud of this situation.

➥ and his touchy attitude got more intense with the invitation from an old friend of your late father. a gala where many nobles will celebrate the birth of the new addition of the duke’s family, not a big deal though. however when the party started, noblemen got all over you, asking for your hand and shameless flirting with you, not caring it’s that is against the queen’s words.

➥ i should’ve stayed home…that you keep thinking by every time one of those old men gets closer to you, offering you to become their second or third wife. you can’t believe men like this exist, how can they be this stupid? thankfully, elliot is here to help.

➥ his expressionless face and sharp words were enough to make those men step away from you. because of that, many nobles began to believe that he is the voice of reason of the barony, a harsh and cruel butler who has to help the inexperienced baroness who inherited a large territory, but they don’t know the true, none of them really does.

➥ when it’s the time to leave the party, you decided to go to the bathroom and elliot took the opportunity to arrange the carriage. you give your best at smiling at those nobles for hours and hours, so that’s the barely minimum he can do for you. he was ready to enter the carriage to wait for you, but suddenly a maid calls for his name, one that he recognizes to be working for the party’s host.

➥ despite telling her name, elliot’s mind fail to remember as she talks and talks even more about her admiration for him. it’s an innocent crush, elliot can tell that by how her cheeks gets reds when he pretends to pay attention and how she can’t hold her voice low whatever she speaks about her current hobbies. situations like this are normal, everyone gets a crush on someone else, but this girl is getting off the hook. trying to touch his gloved hand and taking steps to be closer to him, this girl is surely bold or stupid enough to not know her place.

➥ he was ready to yell, maybe making a scene to scold her behavior, but nothing happened as you returned. with a smile on the lips, you make your way to stand next to elliot and dismiss the maid. the tone of your voice is shape and cold, completely opposite of your usual manner. it was efficient and the maid quickly left the scene, but not before staring at you with hateful eyes.

“my lady,” he is relieved by your arrival, things could’ve been different if you hadn’t arrived in time. “thank you for helping me with that maid.”

the sweet smile on your lips calm him down, “no problem, elliot. its my duty to assure that my closest friend feel uncomfortable.” is that so? your hands goes to his and you get closer to whisper your next words, “before we leave, i need to show you something. follow me~”

and he obeyed you. step by step, elliot walked behind you for a path that he didn’t visit earlier of the duke’s manor as he was too occupied by staying at your side during the party, however you seems familiar with this part of the mansion. have you visited here before? perhaps. after all, every noble knows each other from either arranged marriages or business relationships.

it took a few more minutes til you arrive at the place you wanted to show elliot, a library, where the only living souls around are you and him. the door is closed when he enters after you, there is something around that you want to show him? maybe an ancient book, money or could it be something else?

“elliot.” turning to face you, elliot is surprised by your hands pushing him to sit down an dusty empty armchair. slowly, you began unzipping the back of your dress, revealing the black bra and panties that you are wearing underneath it. what are you doing? this is unladylike of a noblewoman! but why isn’t he stopping you? “is this alright with you?”

he nodded, too busy to talk by the moment your hands hold his face closer to your. feeling your breath to his skin makes the entire world pause for an instant and the soft of your lips on his makes elliot feel the luckiest man to ever exist. the kiss was meant to last seconds, but elliot didn’t want to let go of this magnificent moment, so he pulled you closer with his own hands and kissed you for longer.

it’s a little weird to know that had touched you before in numerous occasions, but it’s just now that you shared a kiss with him, one that left a line of saliva when the two of finally separated. cheeks red and completely breathless, those are the words that describe you and elliot in this situation.

“a-are you—“ you interrupted him with another kiss, but it didn’t last long as elliot pushed you away. “we shouldn’t do this—it’s wrong and unacceptable to a noble lady kiss her servant.”

“really? off all the things we did before, you consider a kiss to be more blasphemy than those times you were in middle of my legs?” a laugh escapes from your lips, trying to minimize the awkward of this situation. “besides, i know you want this too, to take things just a little more further between the two of us.”

the embarrassment of elliot’s face faded with your words. “you want me?” the thought of alone makes him wonder for long you have planned this.

“of course i want you, elliot.” you kissed his neck, dirtying a small part of his white long shirt and smiling at his face. “but i will understand if you wish to pretend this never happened—“

“NO!” he holds your hips closer to his, not daring to let you escape from his grab nor getting up from his lap. “i want this. i want you, [name]…so please, continue to touch me as you wish, my lady.”

“then, i will begin.” you smiled.

with his hands on your hips, elliot guide you to move forward and back on his lap. soft moans comes from his mouth by every time you rub your intimate part closer to his buldge, it’s a new sensation for the butler, one that is making his body feel so good.

your hands on his shoulder makes him smile, this isn’t a dream, this is real and feeling your soft finger touching him is a reminder this whole experience is reality and he won’t ever change this for anything, not even for a fancy title.

elliot can feel that he is close. the moans turned into whimpers and whines speaking your name when his grip is getting weaker, his eyes are full of tears of pure pleasure. he wants to hold it, too make this moment last longer, but he failed to do so.

“ahhhh……mmm~!” one of your hands went to his lips, preventing elliot from moaning out loud to the entire manor, but that didn’t stop him from dirtying his brief and pants. its stick, you can feel as you get up from his lap and it’s visible if anyone pays closer attention. also the look on his face doesn’t help much either. “…[name]…”

things was supposed to end there, at least, that was elliot thought before you kneeling in front of him. before having you unzipped his pants, removing his briefs to take his cock into your hands. he couldn’t say a words, not when his own voice was betraying him by only letting the library’s wall listen to his stuffy moans.

the tears coming from his eye block mostly of his vision, only letting elliot see your blurry hands touching his cock and feeling your tongue licking the head of his member. wait. are you going to do what is he thinking? your lips gets closer to his shaft and then take as much as possible of him inside your mouth.

“ah…” elliot groans, the hand that isn’t preventing the moan from escaping goes to your head, guiding you to take just a little more of him. “hmmmm~”

the base of his cock is getting stoke with your non-dominant hand while the other one is holding his thighs from closing whatever elliot whimpers. your tongue can already taste the precum coming from the tip and he is already telling you to stop, saying that you shouldn’t drink it, that is dirty to a lady like to do it, but you don’t hear him.

and for a last time tonight, elliot whimpers as he finally came over and in return, you take it all inside your mouth. not a single drop escape from your lips as you smiled after drinking it all, impressing elliot in the process.

“elliot~” you still between his legs, holding his still hard cock in your hands. “are your ready for another round?”

“y-yes, [name].” he stuttered.

hiding behind one of the many pillars of the manor, a maid stares at the library’s door, waiting for two people to step out and to caught them for staying after the party was finished.

“my lord won’t like this at all.” a smile crept into her lips, already imagining the many scenarios of the baroness and her butler getting scolded and gaining some extra money for it. “and i might get a chance with that guy afterwards.”

the maid stood there for at least an hour or so before the door finally opened, revealing the two individuals she was hoping to see, but instead of calling their attention or some knight to scolded them, her body freeze by what she notice of them.

lipstick marks on the butler’s neck, a tiny drop of white fluids on the noble woman lips and what made her too stunned to speak…they are holding hands! a member of the high society being touchy with a mere commoner, isn’t that wrong? she was supposed to say something or at least call someone to shame them in the public eyes, but she just stood still, watching the two walking away to the entrance.

the baroness and her butler smiled to each other when stepping out of the duke’s manor, happily to their relationship getting more intimate and to the maid who was too scared to do something against them.

@moonit3 writings

2K notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 2 months

Note

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind.

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup.

“Please, stop apologizing.”

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses.

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...”

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy.

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.”

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.”

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.”

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?”

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks.

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.”

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.”

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat.

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.”

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.”

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically.

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box.

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap.

Says Spencer Reid?

“...sorry?”

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself.

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.”

He swallows and nods.

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.”

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.”

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.”

But you're not crying because he was nice.

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear.

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks.

“I meant every word.”

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say.

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.”

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending.

“Had?”

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart.

“Yeah. You know what changed?”

“What’s that?”

Absolutely nothing.

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.”

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes.

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?”

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.”

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?”

You sniff, looking to the ceiling.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.”

More silence.

“But you don’t believe it.”

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.”

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head.

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?”

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him.

“What?”

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks.

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.”

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.”

“That’s... that’s not how I know.”

Your heart drops as you study his face.

No.

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying.

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be.

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation.

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

“What are you doing? Don’t--”

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks.

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—”

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?”

With nothing left to give, you turn to him.

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.”

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks.

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.”

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible.

“You... you like me?”

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—”

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—”

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.”

“You said you used to like me, past tense—”

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?”

“No, but—”

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?”

“Of course I have.”

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?”

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks.

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.”

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is.

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face.

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.”

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes.

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.”

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine.

“I do.”

“Will you kiss me?”

“If that’s what you want.”

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway.

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to.

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?”

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing.

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.”

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again.

------------------------------------------

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought.

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes.

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!”

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.”

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.”

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.”

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention.

“Spencer?”

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought.

“What does pulchritude mean?”

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair.

“Don’t worry about it.”

And so you let it float away.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

601 notes · View notes

tiddygame · 2 months

Text

i’ve stared at this for so long that i now hate it and think ive lost all concept of how to write so take this and get it out of my google docs

the introduction is rough and the medical depictions (and accuracy/realism) could use some (a lot of) work but whatever! here it is, my vague yet still oddly specific idea of how the face reveal would go in @myriadblvck ’s streamer au:

tw: description of a panic attack? i think?

[this takes place post first irl meet but before they’re officially together]

imagine ghost has a glasgow smile but on one side they carved a little too deep and left some nerve damage. time and surgery helped, after which he could eat unimpeded and talk without a lisp, but there's still some facial nerve damage and/or skin contractures from scarring, specifically around the corner of his mouth.

now, everytime he smiles, be it shit eating grin or a full genuine joy filled smile that not even grumpy mcgrumperson could hold off, it always looks wrong because one corner doesn't raise fully like the other.

everything else is fine, there isn’t any facial paralysis, he just smiles… wrong. especially since only one eye properly squints when he smiles, giving him the look of someone who got stuck mid wink.

if he wants to look “normal” (or as normal as he could get it) he has to manually squint his other eye. still, it always felt weird; you don't realize how much those muscles affect the rest of your face until they're gone.

it's why he learned to always wear the mask.

when his expression is neutral, you don’t really notice it. if you can see his mouth when he talks however, it’s obvious that there’s something wrong. he wouldn’t say he’s necessarily ashamed of the scars and damage itself, but it’s the stares that are the worst. before he started hiding behind it, people would openly gawk or even glare at him as if he was some ne’er-do-well gang member that got what was coming to him.

he still remembers the cosmetic surgeon that had been talking to him about fixing the contractures— the whole appointment was a fucking nightmare. the cuts had healed nicely enough especially considering how bad it could have been; he was lucky to only need a little cosmetic help. the only reason he was there was so he could fucking eat food without struggling to open his mouth.

the doctor spent god knows how long breaking down everything wrong with his face like he was a fucking car mechanic lying about how dirty your filter is. the guy constantly mentioned that while he was under, they could also fix his jawline, do a rhinoplasty, trying to break him down to agree to more work.

he was already fuming my the time the doc brought up how kids would react. asking ghost if he wanted to scare children since “you cant expect the little youngins that are still learning about the world to not get scared by something scary,” and that “even some adults would cringe at the scarring.”

what stuck out most was the condescending smile he had when he said it. as if he was pointing out the obvious and ghost was being stupid and shortsighted by not agreeing.

he declined everything except what was medically necessary. the procedure went fine and after an aggravatingly long recovery period, he could eat solid foods again without issue. but the comments still stuck with him.

…okay, maybe he’s a little ashamed.

scaring kids with your face doesn’t feel good and being reminded of everything you’ve lost when you try to smile can really fuck you up in a way words fail to describe.

so yeah, he hates it. he’s gotten used to the mask, both skull clad balaclava and simple medical mask, being a permanent layer of armor. even now that he’s a bit more comfortable in his own skin it still feels wrong to pull it off.

when he gets close to soap, it still feels like a layer of vulnerability that he’ll never be prepared for.

the first time he let soap see his face, there hadn’t been any grandiose build up, no extravagant planning.

simon had arrived just a few hours earlier. he hated commercial flights with a burning passion but it was always worth it to see johnny.

with soaps twin out of town for the week, he had decided to take leave to spend time with his friend, a friend that he most certainly did NOT have a crush on (a disclaimer roach and gaz heard everytime they started snickering over ghost taking leave.)

johnny had cooked something nice and simple for dinner, saying that simon had spent too long with MREs and deserved real food (ghost only agreed if he was the one washing the dishes, soap had laughed and told him he's not so kind as to let him off the hook for chores).

when they ate, it was always in the living room with johnny taking care to always stay angled away from simon, never trying to catch a glimpse, regardless of how much he wanted to see what was under the mask. the obvious gesture of kindness and respect for his boundaries always left him feeling all weird and fuzzy inside. but, then again, johnny seemed pretty good at triggering that feeling in general.

their finished plates were on the coffee table and johnny was watching whatever dumb movie he had put on. he was pretty sure the man spent more time talking over it and making fun of everything than he did actually watching it (it was simon’s favorite way to watch a movie.)

ghost however, was watching soap. thinking.

in the end, it was an impulsive decision made after a strong three seconds of consideration.

“you uhm— you can look by the way,” ghost stared at the can of soda in his hands, immediately regretting the words.

“what?” soap didn’t fully turn, just shifted slightly to hear him better. a simple gesture to show he was listening without turning to face him. it normally made simon happy to see that johnny was more than willing to accommodate for his boundaries. now though it made him feel stupid for robbing johnny of a normal face to face conversation, a normal human interaction, just over his idiotic insecurities.

“my face, you—,” he felt his heart block his airway and tried clearing his throat before continuing, “you can look if you want,” christ he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. why was he getting so fucked up over this?

“are you sure?” he hadn’t turned yet, but ghost could see his pensive expression from here. this should be nothing. realistically, he knew johnny seeing his scars wouldn’t suddenly make him hate him… right?

“yes.”

but it was more than the fear of hatred, wasn’t it? he was scared that johnny would see him. see more than just the scars, see all of the ugly idiosyncrasies and insecurities laid bare. afraid that johnny would see the truth of how unlovable he was.

jesus he was getting so fucking worked up and dramatic over nothing.

ghost didn’t look up. he made an effort to not focus on his peripheral vision. he heard soap turn, heard the intake of breath. the silence was loud only for a second. then, deafening white noise surrounded him, inescapable, suffocating.

fuck.

he didn’t regret giving permission but god did he regret everything else; the stupid scars, the stupid nerve damage, the stupid way he had managed to fall for someone so fucking good like johnny while he was unequivocally unworthy of his love.

stop being so fucking dramatic. you are not together, never have been and never will be. reality was blatant in front of him but it didn’t stop his heart from foolishly hoping.

he heard soap stand and walk closer. saw from where he was still staring a hole in the can his feet step in front of his. saw johnny’s hands raise. he took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and with a great deal of effort didn’t flinch when soaps fingers grazed his cheek.

both of his hands came up to cup his face, holding him and ever so slightly tilting his face up, giving him the chance to pull away. he didn’t. he may be a coward but he wasn’t backing down.

ghost eventually opened his eyes to see soap staring at him with wide eyes. he looked away, staring off to some point on the right. he hated not knowing what soap was thinking.

they stayed there for a while before soap broke the silence, muttering, “i fuckin knew you had freckles.”

it was stupid but it shocked a laugh out of ghost. he meant to drop his head, embarrassed that something so dumb made him laugh, but accidentally just pushed himself further into soaps hands making him blush.

he looked up and saw soap staring even harder than before. the chuckle died in his chest.

“do that again.”

ghost just gave him a confused look.

“smile.”

such a simple request, a one word sentence, but it set his face ablaze. his breath caught in his throat, somewhere around where his heart was still trying to choke him.

…he hadn’t thought it was that bad but soaps reaction indicated otherwise. fuck. was his it that awful? he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. this was stupid. he was stupid.

“simon,” of course, one word from johnny and it felt like he could breathe again.

“please?”

fucking goddamn soap and his stupid fucking puppy dog eyes and the way he has ghost wrapped around his fucking finger without even realizing.

ghost smiled. there was no real mirth, more a grimace than anything else. he just wanted to get this over with.

soap was still staring at him, his thumbs tracing his lips, following scars, drawing imaginary lines between freckles… if he wasn't so terrified it might have felt nice.

“Christ,” ghosts heart cracked more, “you weren't lying when you said you were beautiful.”

ghost huffed a laugh and went back to staring off to the right, the fake smile dropping. of course soap would try to lighten the mood with a joke.

his panic fled as quickly as it had consumed him, now just left sitting in soap's living room, face still cradled in caring hands, resigned to his mistakes.

he felt so tired and johnny's hands felt so inviting.

“i wasn't joking,” soap looked…upset? angry? wait— fuck, what’d he do?

ghost stared back at soap, confused and tired. soaps nails felt the grooves of the scar, catching where the skin was raised and lowered.

“you don't have to lie, soap. im a grown man. I'm not fragile. you don't need to coddle me,” ghost said it like it was a joke, hoping soap would laugh along and that this would all just blow over. that tomorrow morning they could forget this ever happened.

“are you calling me a liar?” soap’s brow furrowed. great. instead, he had managed to make everything worse and piss off soap as well.

ghost took in a deep breath, giving himself another shot at calming things down, “no, I'm not. I think you're lying, but you're not a liar,” he stood and stepped to the side, grabbing their dirty plates and walking them to the kitchen sink, “you just don't want to upset me, it's fine. I get it. you're a nice person but you don't have to lie to spare my feelings.”

“I am not fucking lying!” as per usual, all ghost had managed to do was make things worse. there’s a reason he had decided to stick to the battlefield and give up on domesticity.

“well alright then. agree to disagree,” he turned the kitchen tap and started rinsing the dishes, waiting for the water to heat up. just walk away. end it there. let us forget about this stupid blunder and move on. please just leave it. please, please, please—

“no.”

the force behind it damn near made ghost drop the plate he was holding. he managed to set it in the sink carefully and turned to face soap, who was now in the kitchen as well.

“i— I'm not just gonna fucking— simon,” soap took in a deeper breath and went to continue but ghost was faster.

“johnny,” he interrupted, walking forward with his hands up in a gesture of surrender, approaching slowly.

one last chance to not fuck everything up.

“the fact is they're called deformities for a reason. they're not cute. they're not pretty. they're your body’s way of healing what it can and protecting what it can't. it's not meant to look nice, it's just—”

“bullshit they’re not pretty! says fucking who?” the genuine distress in soap’s voice and force behind his words caught him off guard. “simon—”

he huffed and ran his fingers through his hair roughly, pulling slightly at the strands. christ, ghost needs to shut the fuck up. every single time he speaks he just upsets soap more and more.

he needs to retake his hostage negotiations courses. clearly he has forgotten everything about how to diffuse a situation.

johnny takes another second to breathe and collect his thoughts before he speaks.

“simon. I know that— that ‘this’ isn't something that's going to fix itself overnight and I don't expect it to. but, ‘the fact is,’ I think you're pretty.”

ghost opens his mouth to disagree but johnny doesn’t let him.

“no no,” johnny put his hand over simon’s mouth, shocking him into silence. he blinks twice, stupefied.

“i think— no. I know you're pretty. cute even. beautiful is a given but obviously worth mentioning.”

his hand moved to cup simon’s cheek. ghost grabbed his wrist but didn’t stop him, wether it was a warning or encouragement he himself didn’t know.

johnny continued, unperturbed, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right?”

there was a pause and simon realized he wanted an answer.

“johnny-”

“ah ah!” his hand moved back to cover his mouth, grabbing his face and shaking his head back and forth, over accentuating his words, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right? yes or no.”

he stopped shaking him and moved his hand back to simon’s cheek. simon sighed, defeated, “yes. you are right.”

johnny looked smug, “good. and what do you say when i give you a compliment you don’t agree with?”

simon sputtered, “wha— i don't fucking know—”

“nothing! you don’t say anything!” soap looked way too proud of himself and he continued, “or thank you if you feel so inclined.”

“that was a trick question,” simon replied eventually.

johnny thumbed over his scars once more, again tracing them, “sure it was. now go take a shower.”

he patted his cheek twice and walked to the hallway.

“wait,” johnny probably shook the few remaining brain cells out of his head. “this whole conversation ends with you telling me that I stink?”

“yes. rancid,” johnny opened the door to the linen closet. simon was still in the kitchen. the tap was still running.

“no dipshit, do you not remember telling me that commercial planes makes you feel gross?” johnny threw a towel at him, which he caught just in time for johnny to hit him with a bath rag.

ghost had mentioned that… ages ago, he thinks. on facetime with each other, discussing the merits of bathrooms on public transport. he had said that enclosed, crowded spaces like commercial planes or buses made him feel, well, gross. how—or why—did he remember that?

“but… I’m supposed to wash the dishes?” a weak argument against the stubbornness he was faced with but simon had officially lost track of his mind and this conversation.

johnny shot him a weird look as he walked back towards the kitchen sink. simon still hadn’t moved.

“did you think i was being serious earlier?”

“yes???” he felt like he had been given a lobotomy.

johnny decided to take pity on him and explained in a soft voice that felt out of place, “i was being sarcastic. i’m not going to make you wash the dishes, simon.”

“but that was the agreement: you cook and i wash the dishes.”

johnny laughed as if he remembered something funny, “yeah, i lied.”

simon still stood there, trying to figure out if he had a stroke. johnny had been angry, completely pissed at him, but now was letting him off the hook and calling him pretty? what the fuck is happening?

johnny turned him and pushed him towards the hallway. simon could have resisted but his resolve always seems to crumble around johnny mactavish.

“now go shower, you beautiful bastard,” soap grabbed one of the plates out of the sink and started washing it with water that had probably heated ages ago.

ghost walked towards the bathroom, feeling like he was on autopilot, limbs disconnected from his brain. his cheek still felt… odd? weird? tingly?

it felt something from where johnny had grabbed it. ghost thinks… he thinks he likes the feeling, whatever it is.

he needs to sleep.

#ghost: i look like a monster :(#soap: OH NO HES HOT #[also the interaction ghost has with the doctor is based on real life experience both me and other family members have had lmao]#also also it goes w/o saying but this isn’t negative towards cosmetic surgery but rather the cosmetic surgery industry #not pictured: me having a full scale debate w/ myself over tagging the person this is literally for #look i have anxiety alright #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #unreliable narrator #(soap is so fucking in love and ghost is so fucking stupid)#streamer au #streamer! au #streamer! soap #or is it #streamer!soap #god i hate tumblrs tagging system #my writing

171 notes · View notes

anundyingfidelity · 21 days

Text

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part VI)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 2.5k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: some suicide thoughts, very suggestive stuff, nudity, sexual tension barely starting, misogyny coming from you know who lol.

Notes: i was eager to drop this so here it is. hope i can make justice to the slow burn/slow sexual tension. aaaa as always thanks for reading!! ily all!

this fic tags: @k-slla @syrma-sensei @mostlymarvelgirl @cheynovak @drasticemotions @soldirboy @deans-spinster-witch

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part VI: Don't Lay Your Red Hand On Me

“Where the fuck are we going?” Ben asked, checking the picture outside the windshield.

The sun was already setting down, and there have been hours since you started driving. At least he had been able to see the damn sunset again after being caged for so long.

Despite his questioning look and not trusting you completely, both made it to your car in the middle of the mess of blood and headless corpses around the building, with him naked under the effects of your invisibility powers. Somehow, you still managed to reassure Soldier Boy it was to protect him. In fact, as you guided both out of the place, you were scared of your abilities not working properly to have him covered. The last thing you wanted was the cameras to have a look at him, escaping with your help.

Now, with Soldier Boy dressed in his clothes and you still wiping some of the dry blood from your skin, you drove without a destiny in mind. Just somewhere you could take him far away from Homelander and Vought. He was, in fact, your top priority and needed to be protected, even if you knew you were nothing compared to his strength and abilities, you still had the urgency of him trusting you, to feel like you really cared. And you did care, but for the wrong reasons and those, he didn’t have to know.

“Far away,” you responded, picking up your phone with one hand as you drove through the highway.

“That doesn’t tell me anything,” he insisted, looking at you switching your attention between the device in your hands and the road.

You dialed Grace, ignoring his voice. She didn’t answer immediately. You cursed under your breath and dialed again. No answer anew, just the ring and the automatic voicemail message. Well, fuck. You had to play with what you had.

“Hey, it’s me,” you began the message. “Please call me when you can, I have to inform you of something. It’s urgent, please call me back.”

Ben rolled his eyes, annoyed as fuck for your silence towards his demands. “You’re gonna tell me now what the fuck is going on? You’re a fucking supe and everyone is dead back there! And not ‘cause of me.”

“First, nothing to fear from me. Okay? You’re the one who’d kill me in a blink. Second, I don’t know!” you yelled as a response, clearly irritated. “I don’t know shit! I know we need to run and that’s all. So just shut up and let me drive.”

“Christ on a cross, you women are fucking irritating,” Ben fumed. He saw a cheap motel by the road and he would’ve guessed you were going there because you slowed down and pulled up in the parking lot. He sighed. “Home, shitty home.”

“Got any ideas? Because I’m all ears,” you stopped the engine and got down the car, taking the sports bag with you. The supe rolled his eyes and before he went out, you came right to his half open door. “Stay here, I'll check in.”

Ben shut his eyes, watching you closing the car door with a loud thud, and you left to get a room. He felt the need to storm behind and shout out what he really thought of your stupid ass bossing him around. If it wasn’t because he wasn’t really half the way out of the fucking car, he should have been arguing and insisting for some real answers. But for some reason he stayed back. When you came back after a short time he followed you to a double bed room you’d be using just for the night.

Once you entered, you decided a shower was first thing on the list, and then you had to communicate with Grace as soon as fucking possible. Checking around, you were thankful to find a couple of towels in the bathroom, while Ben settled on his own space, lying down on one of the beds.

He observed you thoroughly as you studied yourself in the dirty mirror hanging on the wall. The disgusting grimace you made told him you were looking for more blood to wipe off. And before he could speak again you turned to see him.

“I'm gonna take a shower,” you announced.

He raised a brow. “Mind some company, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes as you started to unbutton your blouse, his eyes checking shamelessly the little exposed skin didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Don't even think about it.”

And with that, you just disappeared inside the bathroom. The noise of water running compensated both of you for the silence. He turned on the cheap TV to have some noise for himself too, deciding he’d go for a shower after you. Probably if he was in a different mood would have just tried to get in your pants. Ben was getting so damn stressed out. First you took out his weed, then you announced he would have medication for his fucking stress disorder or some shit, and later, agents and employees of the facility just started to die violently without reason. He thought if any of you would be next while you walked him out.

It was too much to handle right now. He needed something to take it all out. Something, anything, somebody. Just to release it the only way he knew: with sexual pleasure. He didn't understand yet what the fuck was happening. Did you really care about him? You could just have left him there to handle everything by himself and run away. Yet, you took him out of the facility and he, once again, had a glimpse of your courage. Maybe a little. And he started to like that. Suddenly, he heard the shower being turned off and minutes later you came out of the bathroom sooner than he expected, dressed in the same clothing, drying the droplets on your face and wet hair.

“I’m gonna get some dinner, stay here” you announced, taking your phone and the room and car keys. “The door will be locked, don’t do anything stupid.”

Ben scoffed, standing up before making his way to take a shower himself. He faced you directly, just a couple of inches separating both of you. Your gaze challenged him to step closer. “I’m not a fucking animal.”

You hummed, without looking away from his eyes. “Sometimes I doubt you.”

“Locking the fucking door won’t do shit, why you keep doing this?” Ben asked, visible confusion on his features. He really looked tired as hell. Tired of your bullshit.

“It’s not because of you. I perfectly understand that, just wait for me here.”

With that, you turned on your heels and left the room. From the other side, you locked the door. Ben let out a deep breath. He knew it was easy to tear it apart, and again, run after you to have damn answers for once. But instead, he decided to calm himself a little and get rid of his clothes. Inside the shower, he let the warm water take care of the burdens he was carrying, without knowing, on his back. He wondered if he’d been better dead by now, if sleeping in a chamber was a greater choice than this, just running along with you, a woman, who just seemed to fuck him up even more instead of playing real like you had promised. If he knew how to kill himself, probably would’ve done it already. He was getting sick of hiding, of being a fucking experiment, to be under someone’s else’s orders… The worst part of it all is that he never had the right to choose on his own faith. Not even his own death.

Out of the room, you were a few feet away from the door you left behind when your phone started to ring softly. An unknown number appeared on the screen and cautiously you answered, making your way to the car, getting inside on the co-pilot seat.

“Hello?” a voice you knew too well started to speak after some seconds of silence.

“Grace?”

The woman on the other line breathed out. “Yeah, it’s me. Uhm, couldn’t attend earlier, sorry…”

“It’s okay,” you shook your head, as if she could see you face to face. “We’ve been compromised. My lab assistants, the nurses, scientists, guards… Everyone is dead.”

“Fuck,” Grace hissed. She sounded exhausted. “Where is Soldier Boy?”

“I took him out, checked us in at a motel. Can’t go back to my old place. Not yet.”

“You have the copies of the project, right?”

For a moment you felt she was doubting you, but you answered anyway, surprised she would even ask that. “I do.”

There was a little silence coming from her. You continued. “I don’t think I told you yet, but… Fuck, I received a visit from Homelander a couple of days ago. He crashed into my apartment… He knows.”

Grace cursed under her breath. “Y/N, we’re playing with fire here.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling your heartbeat raising. “What’s going on with you? Something happened back there?”

“Victoria Neuman came, saying she wanted to talk to me. She kinda threatened my life, and I’m on the run… Now I can make the puzzle.”

“You think they might be working together?”

“Probably. Senator Bishop was found dead, and guess who is running now with Robert Singer for vice president.”

You chuckled. The whole situation was so ironically clear. “Victoria, that stupid, smart bitch.”

“I’m gonna get some information on her, I know some people who’d know more than I do. I’ll call once I find something.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for that. Do you need me to do anything?”

“Just keep Soldier Boy busy. Work on that injection as soon as you can,” she ordered.

You nodded to yourself, taking a look around the empty lot. “Yes, ma’am.”

After a somewhat long time, Ben saw you entering the room and locking the door. You left a paper bag and water on the nightstand by his bed, where he laid down like he was having a nice day on the beach with only a towel around his hips. He noticed you looked down at him a little longer than usual, but he wasn’t going to let that slip. A sleazy smirk formed on his lips.

“My eyes are up here, sugar.”

You turned away your gaze for a moment before looking back up at him again, confident this time as you locked up your eyes with his half-lidded ones.

“Stop the pet names, Soldier Boy.”

Ben stood up on his feet slowly under your eyes following his moves. His muscular frame towering over your figure as the towel fell to the floor, revealing his bare figure to you. He was growing fond of the way you didn’t step back, ever, from him.

“Well, you never complained back there. Speaking of,” he took the bottle of water between his hands and took a sip from it before his green orbs focused on you anew. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

“I already told you. I don’t know shit.”

“Fucking lies,” the supe hissed. “Tell me now.”

You shrugged and crossed your arms on your chest, tired of him. “I have nothing.”

“Sweetheart, you never shut your piehole during our sessions. Don’t back up now,” he dared, stepping closer to you, eyelids narrowing.

Neither Ben or you dared to look away. You had to act like it, for your good. What if Soldier Boy found out that probably Homelander was behind all of it? It was going to be the end of him, his son; the fucking abusive experiment would be gone with a blast. But Vought was still around. It wasn’t just about Homelander or personal payback. It was more than that.

Homelander was barely the tip of the iceberg. And you were afraid Ben would never understand the mission. Would he say yes to use his blood to create even more experiments after all he went through, even if you explained everything? You knew his answer. The next step was getting it from him and it was going to be the hardest thing ever. But you could think of that later. There was nothing that a small cut accident couldn’t do.

“I’m not talking because I have nothing to tell you, Ben,” you lied, looking at him with your brows knitting together. “I wish I knew, but I’m just as scared as you might be.”

“I’m not scared,” he replied a little too fast. “I want to know why you took me out.”

“Why not?” you insisted. “You deserve another chance.”

And I need you alive to find a cure to this curse.

Ben scrutinized your face. This time, he couldn’t read through you. What did he know though, was that he was tired. A burning ache was forming inside him once again and he needed to release it. He was used to sensing your heartbeats, the blood running on your veins, and still now there was no glimpse of you reacting to his teasing. Any other woman would have thrown herself at him, he was used to it. Now, there wasn’t anyone. Just you, paying no attention to his perfectly sculpted body and his cock between his legs. It had to be the fact that you were a supe. Not as powerful, but still. A clear advantage in the cursed world you all lived in. He took in your body, thinking into luring you to give in and imagining how it would be to have you crying under him, moaning his name exactly like numerous women have. Just for the night.

“Don’t think about it, Soldier Boy,” you voiced out, like if you read his nasty mind. “I’m not gonna do that.”

His eyes went back to your face. “Y’know, I used to have lines of women like you during my days. Countless lines of rich whores, waiting to have a good fuck with me. Pretty ladies whose husbands would leave unattended, cute little secretaries, bombshell Hollywood actresses… All of them, just wet holes ready for me. I’d take them all.”

You chuckled at his pathetic little speech. If that was his way of getting you to bed, it wasn’t working. Not now, not never.

“I’m not just any rich whore, Ben. I don’t want to fuck you, you can use the bathroom to take care of your little problem down there.”

You saw how his jaw clenched as he held his eyes with yours.

He smirked. “Maybe not today, pretty thing. But you’ll see.”

“Be my guest.”

Ben turned around, giving you a clear view of his ass as he locked himself inside the bathroom. The sound of the shower running was not enough to cover his moans and grunts as he jerked himself off. You just decided to sleep. There was a long drive waiting for you in the morning.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy imagines #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon prime #the boys series #the boys tv #jensen ackles fanfiction #soldier boy/ben

105 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 month

Note

WIBTA if i cut off someone reaching out for help on tumblr? i am a very anxious person. ive been on tumblr a very long time because most all other social media terrifies me as someone who grew up with the wild west internet a decade past (im in my late 20s) so i feel sometimes with how reckless and spurractic people can be online in chatroom and especially clearly public platforms where any stranger, malicious or otherwise can just archive your digital presence for personal use.

more recently as someone who has been here during the pornban and as an asexual really enjoyed the quiet with no drama farming and a slow pace to talk about more unique political topics in a measured way it is something im strangely nostalgic for and a great example of my sensibilities to people when they insist that i use other platforms like discord or twitter or whatever clone for these services comes out of the old guard introducing feature creep to copy everyone else or any other indi "were the anti corporate version" of the endless scroll apps. i just dont want it. tumblr is special because im desktop only, been here for years, and i have kept track of every single change made so i have manually adjusted the change through hacks to evade every bad decision on here and make my set up look identical to how it was in 2010. so let it be understood that i tend to be a loney person because of this stubbornness. web 3.0 is too dangerous to people with addictive tendencies that my adhd brings out and my need to wear my heart on my sleeve. so i hope i defended my personality type enough to show why someone like me would see a post about some horrible abuses they have fell victim to who also share alot of the marginalized status as me and writing depressive things in the replys of others posts as to attention seek about it.

i directly interact with this person, not only to check if they are real (but wow, modern chat bots make this part horrifying for me. we really cant ever know for sure what is real anymore. trying to find warmth on the internet feels impossible now a days) i have multiple conversations at this point both venting and just casually shooting the shit. but the begging for me to constantly repost their paypal makes me so nervous in a way that i feel so guilty for because it reminds me of all the scams that get associated with this kind of ebegging and the reminder that capitalism takes away all warmth from human interaction to make them purely transnational and conditional. but then it just has been escalating where im so scared that now its not enough that im reposing on my 8 follower, all mutual blog, they are asking me to share it on other socials. accounts i do not have i have a flip phone and a laptop and i am tinkering with a windows 7 tower that will never be connected to the internet so i can always have software sit perfectly in its time capsule for when i need it. i do not have a way to help this person outside of what i learned from collage psyche classes. a part of me is so scared to just abruptly cut them off and just delete my entire account like i tend to do often on tumblr for a multitude of reasons, its a part of what lets people survive being here this long but i worry that would crush them if i did that, i dont want to make them feel more hopeless and unwanted then they already talk about. but i am text on the internet through a screen. i can only do so much. so would i be the asshole if i just deleted my account with a "i hope you hang in there, the world is a harsh place but keep moving" to cut someone so similar to me who is struggling out of my life?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

96 notes · View notes

nebbyy · 6 days

Note

Hi! I'm not sure if you are currently taking requests, so feel free to ignore mine if you aren't! If you are taking them, however, would you please write something for King Baldwin IV overhearing reader sing and falling further in love with her because of her soft and sweet voice? Upon realizing that he's there, she becomes extremely flustered and apologizes for disrupting his peace and quiet. Thank you!

King Baldwin IV x reader - Sweetest of melodies

A/N: omg it’s been so long since I’ve received a request! I can’t lie, Baldwin is my supreme comfort character, I think I’ll never stop writing fro him because it gives me sooo much joy😩😩😩 I personally like to think of this piece as taking place a few months after Baldwin’s and reader’s wedding, so it could be considered a sequel for my first fic ever. Also, the song mentioned in this piece is a real song from the 12th century called "Can vei la lauzeta" (in English,"When I see the lark") by Bernart de Ventadorn, and the painting is "Lovers in a garden" by Charles Edward Perugini!!

Oh btw!! I’m working on a long ass series about him, based off of a prompt by @phantomsghoulette which I absolutely LOVED. Sooo all the KoH fans stay tuned for future updates🤭

Warning: nothing really, just pure fluff. Maybe you could say that religious innuendos could be something triggering for some people but I don’t know. There might be ONE, SLIGHTLY spicy mention but only if you squint really really hard. Also, keep in mind that the historical accuracy in my fics is rather relative, I try to add some details here and there but I don’t have the knowledge (nor the skills) to write a piece 100% accurate to the real history. Also, reader’s gender is female and uses she/her pronouns!!

Word count: 2918

Someone would say Baldwin's patience could already be put to test by only his illness, which she ruthlessly does not grant him a moment's respite, the eternal enemy of his body and his spirit. But no, to this perpetual torment of his had to be added the perilous duties of a king. And it was certainly not governing his people and lands that sucked what little energy he had left; this duty of his, given by his father and willed by divine design, he had long since embraced.

It was the nobles, the leeches who had drained him of his lifeblood lately. It was their endless demands, the insidious words that hissed behind his back, the languid bows and sleazy gifts designed only to gain some favor from him. Looking around him, he seemed to see only vices and sinners, power-hungry beasts just waiting for his moment of weakness so they could feed on what Baldwin had under his power.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, experiencing for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

In fact, not without reason in the past the young monarch had attempted to abdicate the throne and leave it in the hands of one of his sisters, rid himself of this burden and devote the rest of his short life taking care of his declining health and to nurture his mind away from so much corruption. At times he dreamed of retiring to France, to experience for the first time that cold climate and verdant landscape of which his preceptors and advisors told him so much.

And he dreamed of taking you with him, imagined how sweet his life would be if his only concerns were taking care of his health and you, faithful wife, sole blessing in his life battered by such burdens. How he would wish that his days would revolve around you, that his first thought in the morning would be riding by your side through the flourishing meadows, and his last thought in the evening would be caressing your face as you lie slumbering in his arms.

It would have been a blissful fate his, if only Sybilla's husband had not died at the very moment when he would have needed him most. If only his mother had not convinced him that Guido de Lusignan was a good fit for his sister and had continued to seek a new consort for her, perhaps that fate would not have been snatched from him so early. Too late to repent now, for Baldwin would have preferred to die agonizingly on his throne rather than leave power in the hands of that bumptious and arrogant lord, who was noble only in title.

And so he found himself in this sort of hellish limbo, forced into a position that should never be required of a man in his condition, but prevented by his morality from abandoning his reign, impelled by faith in God's greater plan, that his suffering should not be in vain.

And his faith always seemed to strengthen when he had a way to escape the stifling air that characterized the throne room, always packed with knights and crusaders and nobles, when he had a way to retreat to the palace gardens, one of the few verdant places in all of Jerusalem.

With slow, swaying steps, Baldwin strolled slowly among the local palm trees and flower beds from the faraway lands, those where men speak Italian and the more distant ones, those from which his fathers came. Exotic fruits mingled with those more congenial to the French, who out of nostalgia for their lands and fields did what they could to bring the seeds of these plants with them to overseas.

His mind seemed to go out, shifting his attention from the constant buzz of court demands and duties to the chirping of birds perched on the roof, to the eviction of the soft branches that shielded him from the scorching sun. He enjoyed the refreshing air that reigned in that small oasis of greens, which was able to infiltrate the fabric of his white robes, crossing the bandages that covered much of his body and finally reaching his skin, numbed by leprosy.

To tell the truth, of that refreshing sensation little reached his damaged nerves, if not for those few points that had been spared by the merciless disease, from which departed that unusual shiver that caused him a delicate smile of relief, enjoying the refreshing breeze. Then he closed his eyes and breathed in, discovering with satisfied surprise that that light gust was also a harbinger of an intoxicating perfume, a mixture of exotic and familiar.

How funny to think of the concept of "exotic", for an Angevin born and raised in the unknown lands of the east. For him it was exotic French fruit, exotic were the green plains and heavy clothing that brought his allies from the northwest, and equally alien to the snowy mountains and forest beasts that he saw drawn in detail in his childhood books. It was these changes of perspective that stimulated his mind in a myriad of thoughts and reflections, but in a pleasurable way for him, not as exhausting as his daily duties.

His reflections on exotic and local made his mind travel, wandering until he came to a subject very close to him: Muslims and Jews, reflecting well on the landscape in front of him, recognized that he could share with them the same concepts of what is foreign and what they can claim the original belonging. And he could not but reflect on how it must have been for the first inhabitants of Jerusalem to observe the Franks who came as conquerors, and filled their gardens with such foreign plants as those pale warriors who had taken possession of their dwelling... But after all, the French soldiers who were emissaries of God’s will needed something familiar to stabilize them as they fought to reclaim the Promised Land, ut Deus voluit.

But all his brooding over these matters of conquest and submission ended up in the background in his mind, when a colorful scarlet sphere caught his attention. An exquisitely red apple seemed to tempt him from a branch just above his head, beckoning him to be picked and savored by the king, that he might lose himself in the juicy sweetness of that fruit with origins so far removed from the Holy Land. But the king's modesty prevented him from yielding to that temptation, wanting to avoid exposing the advanced state of deterioration in which his mouth was.

And in fact if that temptation had been alive it would have pale in front of something much more captivating, a sound that echoed in the most melodious distance of the song of any nightingale. Baldwin was surprised to think that he had not realized before the melody that inibriated the atmosphere around him, so taken by the tribulations of his mind that he almost missed such an intoxicating song. He did not know what he felt once he arrived in Heaven, if he had ever arrived in spite of the unjust fate in Hell that the evil Saracens wished him. He didn’t know it, but if one ever had to imagine what Heaven sounded like, that song would come to mind.

When I see the lark beating

Its wings in joy against the rays of the sun

That it forgets itself and lets itself fall

Because of the sweetness that comes to its heart

She sang in Occitan, the beautiful one in the distance. The voice of his people, of his lineage, that few in the palace can pronounce after so many years of distance from their homeland in Provence. Paying more attention to the echoing song, he would not even have had to approach it to give a face to that melodic voice: he knew how to recognize his wife’s voice.

Yet it was a new context in which he saw you, new facets of you that he had not yet had a chance to observe. Your voice, sweet as honey, venerable like all your other traits, he had never heard it except in speech, when you were proclaiming orders before your subjects with the authority fit for a queen, or when you laughed at the poems and performances of the court singers, or when you whispered in Baldwin’s ears sweet words, while you lay with bodies merged between the soft silk sheets. Always spoken, but never sung.

Alas! Such great envy then overwhelms me

Of all those whom I see rejoicing,

But though he didn’t need to approach you to recognize you, the desire to see your face exceeded any of his other needs. As if mesmerized by the sound of a siren, Baldwin was advancing towards you, with steps so slow that it seemed a hunter about to catch a deer in the woods. He wanted nothing more than to hear you sing again, that you continue to bless him with that angelic melody. What worse sin would there be than to interrupt your song, more sacred than a prayer?

His stomach filled with butterflies and turned upside down like the beasts' jugglers, his breath seemed to stop in his throat, depriving him of the breath he no longer needed, as long as he could hear you sing a moment more. And her cheeks warmed, when finally she saw you among the white lilies, more beautiful than divine salvation.

I wonder that my heart, at that moment,

Does not melt from desire.

Baldwin wondered if you sang with him in mind, if those words of love reflected your own emotional turmoil.

Oh, if only it were so, and your singing equalled his own words inscribed in the sonnets and poems he composed in your honor, which he himself commissioned from your favorite singers to perform at banquets, only to steal an embarrassed smile and to see the blush of your cheeks, along with the glint in your eyes.

Whether it was or not, the outcome remained the same since he was at that moment in your proximity, in the same state mixed with adoration, love and wonder at the bold gesture. But if only he had confirmation from your words...

Alas! How much I thought I knew

About love, and how little I know,

Because I cannot keep myself from loving

The one from whom I will gain nothing.

"My angel, your voice sounds like heaven but your words are false." Baldwin practically saw you blow up from your session, completely taken aback by his sudden appearance, unaware that your husband has been acting as a secret public all this time. Your initial surprise quickly turns into a laugh to mask your embarrassment for being caught in a moment like this, when you thought you were alone to be able to run the streets of music with your voice.

"I beg your pardon, I thought I was alone in the gardens," your eyes met his own only for a moment, before you turned your face to try and hide the blush of your face, "it was just a silly song I heard singing to the Provençal knights. I hope I did not disrupt your walk, my love..”

He laughed softly, trying to hide his amusement from having caught you off guard. He approached you more quickly than when he did just a few moments before, but with the same phlegm that managed to inspire a feeling of safeness in you. Sitting by your side on the bare rock, he raised his bandaged hand to gently cup your face and make you turn your eyes towards him. It was only then, when you had no choice but to look at Baldwin in the face that you noticed how his eyes, the only part of his face exposed to the outside world, formed two half-moons, and you came to find that it was because of how widely he was smiling, as you lowered the veil from his face.

He was making fun of you, you realized. With that swagger in his manner, you understood that his amusement came from your embarrassment at that silly misunderstanding. Laughing softly, he gently shook his head before bringing both hands to your face, holding it as if it were the most sacred of relics. "As much as I would love to hear you sing of your affection for me, just to hear your voice echoing in the air is the sweetest of gifts. How could you deprive me of this blessing thus far, my dear?"

You could do nothing but giggle at his sweet words, bringing your hands to his wrists to feel him closer to you. "You flatter me, my king. My voice boasts nothing more than those sweet melodies that the singers in the palace sing. Mine is only a dabble."

His gaze softened, his playful spirit addicted to your presence. He took the floor again, in a tone as soft as cotton, "At least this once, my queen, allow me to disagree with your words. My life may be short and my reality small, but never have I heard such an angelic voice, singing such sweet melodies. And God may not yet have granted me the ability to predict the future, but in my heart I know well that never will any singer be able to hold a candle to your beautiful voice, never will any song be able to express the same feeling of ecstasy.

"You, my angel, have managed to make a simple ballad an absolute work of art through your voice. I think I should take you with me into battle next time, for with your mere voice you could addict Saladin and his entire army.

"And seeing you here, angelic and perfect like the lilies that surround you, singing so softly that it would make any bird jealous, that I realize that whatever toil, whatever challenges God has stored up for me, and all those that still await me in my life, are worth it, if at the end of each of them there is you, voice of an angel, to hold a place for me in your arms of heaven."

You were sure you were on the verge of crying a flood of tears, the result of pure emotion at his sweet words. It was not new to you that Baldwin worshipped you as much as the God to whom his kingdom was consecrated, from the first moment he got to hear your voice and admire your face, and you knew at once that he had become yours, body and soul. But it was new to you to see him like that, completely entranced by your simple being-it was something new. A wonderful newness that made you feel like the most desired of women on this earth.

Taken by a rush of boldness, you practically jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck; you ended up on top of him, with his hands around your hips. You both laughed, like two little boys frolicking in the gardens. And you left a kiss on his left cheek, then on the bridge of his nose. A kiss again on his forehead, and then down on the side of his lips. When you were about to give him another kiss, just where he most yearned for your lips, against his, you stopped a few inches away, with a wide smile, before speaking again, "If so little is enough to make your happiness, then I will sing to you every day, whenever you ask. Let me be your nightingale, your morning song and your lullaby all at once!"

"I couldn't wish for anything else, my dear. Now, however, I beg you, sing one more melody for me, before my duties drag me back to the palace, and I shall consider myself a blessed man."

"With great pleasure, my love." Your voice was now little more than a whisper. With a languid movement, Baldwin moved his body to rest his head on your lap, and you eagerly greeted him. After slightly moving the hood that veiled his head, so that you could play with his golden locks, you began to sing a new melody, one that this time spoke of reciprocated love, of the joy of being able to hold your loved one in your arms. But the words you sang barely reached Baldwin before his sky-colored eyes closed softly, his mind giving him at least a moment's despite from his perilous life. You continued to sing, caressing his face, which from day to day appeared more and more mutilated by his disease, singing the sweetest of melodies so as to prolong this idyll in which you and your husband found yourselves in.

For with you Baldwin had a way of putting the crown aside, and being nothing more than a foolish young man in love, whose only duty was to love you, to love you with all the love that an angel like you deserved.

@sweetworkoffiction hope you like it <3

#fluff #writers on tumblr #f!reader #kingdom of heaven #king baldwin iv #king baldwin x reader #king baldwin x you #koh #medieval fiction #historical fiction #writing requests #requests open #anon ask #anon request

74 notes · View notes

werewolf-girlfriend · 9 months

Text

ive been enabled so let me share some of my thoughts on how to get ur art noticed online

if u want Engagement on ur posts then i believe that its critical to make people care about ur art. the easiest way to do this is to appeal to something they already care about, like fandom, aesthetics/subculture, current events, having fun (people love humor!). a harder but perhaps more fulfilling route is to talk about ur own ocs and projects enough until people start caring about them too

theres an infinite amount of topics people care about out there so id suggest picking something u already care about urself and channel ur art energy there. trying to make art for the most popular things out there regardless own interests is an exercise in misery, id advise against it..! if im allowed to get superstitious for a moment, i do believe that even untrained eyes can tell whether a piece of art was fun to work on or a chore. and besides! if ur having fun then its easier to create more, and the more u create the more chances ull have at getting lucky and having a post seen :)

on a very related note, art is a way to communicate ideas so the quality of the idea being presented in a piece of art is paramount to how popular a post will be. what i mean by this is that technical skill isnt the primary determinant of a posts popularity. if all your posts are portraits of original characters then people will have a hard time connecting with your posts and theyll keep scrolling, even if those portraits are masterpieces! the major exception to this is probably other artists, who ive found usually have a greater appreciation for the technical side of art (we can only speculate as to why..!)

lemme finish by saying that making popular posts and being good at art are two entirely different skillsets, ive seen many incredibly skilled artists with jack shit for notes because they dont give people a reason to care about their stuff NOT TO MENTION its a huge game of luck whether a post will get seen. so dont go insane in pursuit of recognition!

(i dont want to make this post too long so ive included examples from my own art and their note counts with my analysis after the break)

hello and welcome to the extracurricular segment to this post :) i bring yall two pieces from my art blog @werewolf-artfriend:

here we have a portrait of my fursona that im still proud of and a sketch suggesting "what if sniffers (from minecraft) were the size of mountains?" (let it be noted that the sniffer sketch was posted right during the minecraft mob vote = peak interest in the subject of sniffers).

the portrait at the time of writing has a crisp 30 notes, whilst the sniffer sketch has over 2000 notes. from the same artist, on the same blog, posted only a few months apart. i believe this is a good example both of the power of a piece of art having an interesting idea at its core AND of a piece appealing to the interests of the masses

this is of course just two convenient example posts, but i have experienced fan art of popular topics getting thousands of notes a couple of times now, amidst my other furry shit that these days get around 200-300 notes in comparison

this may sound like a really long winded way of saying "fan art make the world go round" but i just want to point out the nuances that

1) it matters what u make fan art of: if a fandom is small or dormant (waiting on new canon content for example) then clearly less people will be excited about the fan art you make. dont expect 10k notes on ur post if the average recent post in the fandom gets around 200 etc etc

2) it doesnt have to be fan art! ive also had some of my bird art get thousands of notes because people simply like birds :) and this applies to ANY topic people care about! the world rly is your oyster on this one

anyway i think ive started rambling dhgdjhgd thanks if u read this far! i hope i got my point across! and if ur feeling down about ur art not being seen then just keep at it okay! keep creating and keep having fun! keep sharing ur ideas and perspectives with the world and ur audience will eventually find u! i love you!

#i dont know if this stuff is obvious but i was like :o when i started viewing things this way! i think it makes sense!#i honestly still have more thoughts on this subject + some more practical advice from my experience #but ive never written a long talk-y post before so uh maybe another day <3 #isa speaks

286 notes · View notes

nina-ya · 4 months

Note

HI NINA!! I hope ur doing well, for some reason I never realized your requests are open but ive had this little idea with me for a while and I would really like to see it written ;))

can I request law × reader whos like a spirit or ghost kind of?? But only law can see them for some reason. Also reader is not dead hh they might be a spirit because of a curse or something maybe...

maybe a little angsty (or very)?? Either way, I can't wait to see what you write :)) i love ur work sossoooo much and thank uu!!

A/N: HIIIIIIII I had a lot of fun with this idea actually I DO HOPE YOU ENJOY!! Angst really gets me in my feels and I kinda left it to the possibility of a p2 if anyone ever wanted it :'))) Pairing: Law x reader CW: None really just angst towards the end WC: 2k

You sighed to yourself. Another pirate had arrived, their purpose unclear- were they here for treasure? A place to rest? Or to investigate the rumors of the haunted building? Said building is being haunted by you, of course. You hadn’t intended for the place to become a spectacle that would send even the toughest pirates screaming for their mothers, but the curse condemning you to the spirit world left you with little control over this, so you had to make the most out of it, right? You gave up hope long ago that you would be able to be freed from the clutches of curse. You wandered city to city. You even stowed away on pirate ships to go to different islands, desperate to find a miracle that would help, but that all got tiring and soon enough you called the building you resided in your new home.

From the rafters, you peered down at the interesting pirate that had just entered. He sported a spotted hat, matching pants, and a halfway unbuttoned dress shirt that revealed one of the many heart themed tattoos adorning his skin.

His voice filled the room, muttering about the rumors of the haunted building, and frustration surged within you. This intruder had disrupted your quiet evening, prompting you to cut his visit short and scare him off. You swung off the rafters and landed on a cabinet with an open door, slamming it shut with a great deal of force.

The metallic sound of a sword unsheathing sliced through the air as the man focused on the source of the disturbance. His eyes locked onto yours, momentarily causing panic through you. Could he truly see you? You questioned the possibility for a moment, but rationalized that he was only looking in your general direction rather than directly at you.

“Who are you?” He asked, his voice demanding.

A shiver ran down your spine as the weight of his gaze fell upon you. ‘Impossible,’ you thought, ‘there’s no way he’s talking to me.’

“I suggest you answer my question before you regret it,” he stated, a blue orb materializing in an outstretched hand.

Disbelief filled your senses as you responded. “Wait, wait, wait… hold on… you can see me?” you stammered, trying to understand the reality that is unfolding before your eyes.

“Quit playing games; of course I can see you,” he replied, his voice unwavering.

You stumbled over your words as you tried to satiate his demands, “I’m sorry, it’s just… well, you’re the first person that’s seen me like this.”

Law grew impatient, and with a quick motion, he enclosed you in the blue bubble of his room, slashing at you. Yet, that was a futile effort as the force passed through you without a trace. Frustration bubbled within him as he attempted again and again, the uselessness of his efforts quickly settling in.

“What the hell is the meaning of this?” He finally snapped, his voice filled with irritation and subtle curiosity.

“Let me explain!” you pleaded, taking the opportunity to share your story. “I’ve been like this for a while and I think I’m a ghost? I can’t really tell.”

"A ghost? Really?" Law sighed, his skepticism obvious. "Okay, whatever, go on."

A sigh of relief escaped you as you continued your story. The tale of encountering a curse, the passage of time, and the unexplainable circumstances that left you in this state spilled from your lips. However, Law rolled his eyes and cut you off.

"I don't know what kind of fun you gain from telling this story to people, but it's not going to work on me," he declared, moving to leave the building, his patience gone.

Desperation filled you as you chased after him in a plea to be heard. "Wait! Please! I promise I am not making this up."

"Yeah, yeah, go find some other oblivious person to fool," he retorted, rounding a corner, making his exit.

You positioned yourself in his path. "Wait! Give me a chance! Don't leave yet!" Your desperate voice rang out.

He rolled his eyes at you, "would you shut up and leave me alone?" he barked back, the force of his words drawing the attention of passersby. Some stopped in their tracks, casting curious glances your way, while others continued their journey with judgment evident in their glances.

He looked around, noticing the stares. "Look, now you're bringing attention to us," he said, irritation dripping from his features.

The whispers of the crowd filled his ears, 'Us?' 'Is he okay?' 'Why is he talking to the air?'

A sense of unease settled over Law as the judgmental murmurs were made clear to him. Clenching his jaw to hold off a retort, he shot you a silent look that said, 'Follow me,' before walking away.

Back inside the building, the door barely closed when Law spoke up, his tone unchanged, "So, a ghost, you say?"

You sighed in relief at the opportunity to explain. "I… I mean, I think so? A ghost or a spirit, or any other synonym would probably be my best guess."

"Your best guess? Do you not know what happened to you?"

"No! I really don't," you admitted with a sigh. "All I know is that one day, I messed with some people that I shouldn't have, and well… I'm like this now."

His face remained expressionless, a calculating gaze fixed upon you. The silence stretched, and you couldn't bear it any longer. A nervous chuckle escaped you. "So, uh, I guess I have to properly introduce myself to the first human I've spoken to in a while, huh." You extended your hand for a shake, revealing your name. Law hesitated for a moment before reaching out. His hand enveloped yours for just a moment, then phased right through.

You nervously laughed again, retracting your hand at the failed handshake. "Ah, I'm sorry about that. I don't know why I thought that would work."

"But you were able to slam that cabinet just fine earlier?" Law questioned.

"Will you kill me if I say I'm not sure why?" you replied sheepishly.

"How would I kill you when you're practically dead?" Law retorted, his deadpan delivery drawing a smile from you.

“Not dead, just cursed.” you correct him. “I don’t see much of a difference.”

Your laughter filled the building, a sound that seemed out of place, but it certainly felt good. It was the first time in a long long while since you genuinely laughed and had fun. Law didn’t seem to share your amusement, though. He eyed you with a raised eyebrow. As your laughter dissipated into chuckles, you felt a warmth inside of you.

“Laughing, huh? You sure you’re not trying to trick me?” Law asked, still seemingly skeptical about this whole situation.

Your smile quickly turned into a frown at his doubts. “What? No, I just…” you start but trail off, seemingly unable to form any words.

An awkward pause fell between the two of you. He just couldn’t understand your predicament. Law is the first to break the silence. “Maybe it’s time for you to get out of here and try and find a way to get back to your old self.”

“You don’t get it,” you said quietly, your voice filled with despair. “I can’t just do that. I’ve tried, trust me. For years I’ve tried, but I'm tied to this life.” For a moment, Law's doubts faded as he saw the desperation in your eyes, and he decided to give you a chance. He walked over to the nearest wall and sat on the floor, leaning against it. He saw your confusion and he gestured to the floor in front of him, nonchalantly saying, “I have a feeling that you have quite the story to tell me, so go on.

- - -

As the night deepened, the two of you found yourselves engaged in an unexpectedly long conversation. You opened up more about your predicament, telling Law every detail you could about the curse, telling him about your human life, your past, and even your fears. He opened up to you as well. You learned that he was the captain of a crew, that he was a former warlord, and he even showed you his tattoos.

The light of the moon filtered through the dusty windows, and the conversation flowed into more lighthearted topics. You learned that you had much more in common with him than you originally had thought. You even learned about some of his quirks such as his distaste for bread.

As the first rays of sunlight slowly started to replace the moonlight, you two found yourselves in an odd state of comfort. The two of you talked throughout the night and not once have you run out of things to say.

“I’ll help you break the curse,” Law declared, his words causing a momentary pause in your thoughts. Your eyes widened in disbelief and gratitude. Unable to contain yourself, you impulsively find yourself throwing yourself at Law, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

The world stood still as you held the hug, and Law could only widen his eyes in shock at the feeling of the touch. Then the realization hit you– your arms were wrapped around him. You were actually hugging him. Embarrassment soon washed over you as you became aware of the awkwardness of the situation. You pulled away abruptly, your features emanating embarrassment, and you cleared your throat.

A pause fell over the two of you as both of you tried to grapple with the reality of the uncharted territory of physical contact. “Uh, sorry about that,” you mumbled sheepishly.

Law nodded in understanding, though he still seemed taken aback. “No harm done, right? Let’s focus on breaking that curse.” He looked out of the window as he finished his sentence and his voice filled with urgency as he realized the time. “I have to go now,” he explained, regret in his voice. “But, I’ll be back tonight. I will help you figure this out.” Through the sudden disappointment, you nodded in understanding. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Law nodded at you before making his exit. He left you alone, and the quietness that you were oh so familiar with. You eagerly awaited his return, and as the night came about, you stared out the windows looking for any sign of him, but to no avail. You occupied your mind with feeble excuses, convincing yourself that he might just be running late and that he will come for you. But as the night turned into days, that wait stretched agonizingly long and uncertain.

Morning after morning, you wandered the island, hoping to find some sign of Law, just to be filled with a growing sense of abandonment instead. You questioned every bit of Law’s promise, wondering if you had just gone insane and made up that conversation to make yourself feel a little less lonely. The desolation you felt before was nothing to this new crushing weight of shattered hope.

The loneliness settled in, and with every sunset that passed, your hope vanished further. That is, until you were searching the island for him, and you saw fresh wanted posters plastered across the walls. There he was. Law’s face was among them. The realization that he was not even around anymore hit you like a truck. He went off to do other better things rather than fulfilling some stupid promise with someone he just met. The memory of your interaction replayed in your mind, the hug lingering in your mind more than you’d like to admit.

In a moment of frustration and despair, you tore the wanted poster off the wall, startling those who were nearby. Tears flowed freely as Law's absence filled you with despair. His presence had filled a hole you hadn't even realized existed, and now that he was gone, that hole seemed even bigger than before. Now you were left with the dreaded thought that you may never truly break this curse.

#one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #law x reader

112 notes · View notes

interpolanticssuperfan · 8 months

Text

nothing natural | ken x fem!reader | part 3 | 18+ only

hii everyone! thank you SO much for the incredible kindness youve shown me and sweet words so far! and thank you all for reading. i accidentally made this chapter longer than i intended to.. oops. i hope i am doing a good job at slow burning because ive struggled with that in the past. warnings: reader goes outside to smoke a cigarette. lol. enjoy and as always feedback fuels me!!

also, i wanted to let you all know that you can listen to the playlist i have been listening to as i work on this fic which is sort of a mix of stuff that reminds me of ken and stuff i think he'd like. idk i love when authors share what they listen to, so you can check that out here.

you can also reply to my posts or message me if you want to be tagged for updates. i am posting a masterlist today for ease of access.

tags: @heyareyoulistening @itsametaphorbriansblog @alyeria

In the span of one hour, you absorbed more information and somehow became more confused the longer Ken spent investigating every inch of your apartment. You explained to him that you did not own this entire building, and that only one unit was allotted to you, but this still impressed Ken.

“Are you friends with all your neighbors?” He asked, squinting closely at the magnets on your fridge, touching them and flipping frantically through the notepad you used for grocery lists, like he needed to see more of your handwriting, more of the things you used every day. Ken murmured to himself as he took in the words: flour, one dozen eggs, croissants.

You’d reinstated yourself at your dining table with your work laptop, creating an elaborate lie for your supervisor as to why you missed the weekly team check in. My cousin’s dog was assaulted by a rabid possum and we had to take him to the emergency vet, please excuse my brief absence… I’m happy to work overtime to accommodate this inconvenience… He was only a puppy…

So on and so forth. You were confident you could schmooze your way out of a write up. Ken couldn’t stand still, couldn’t contain himself – had whizzed through the front door when you unlocked it, bouncing off the walls with questions and comments that flowed freely.

“No, I’m not friends with all my neighbors. There’s gotta be at least forty other people that live here. Are you?”

“I know all the Kens. We are not all friends. But I know all of them.”

“You’re all named Ken.”

“No. There’s Allans.”

“Right.”

Ken gleefully picked up each cookbook stacked on top of a low hanging shelf, tearing through each one and making tiny astonished faces at each new dish he was introduced to. Recipes on the sweeter side piqued his interest – cinnamon rolls, pastries, cookies. You had suspended disbelief long enough to just let Ken do this, let him touch everything even if he moved your belongings out of place. It wasn’t typical for you to have a man over, let alone one who was learning how the natural human world worked. (And had to ask you with stars in his eyes what ovens were for.)

“These pancakes look divine. They’re putting all kinds of stuff in these. I didn’t know you could put blueberries in them. They taste good, right?” You craned your neck to get a look at the recipe he was referring to.

“If you’re a decent cook! You just have to pay attention to what you’re doing, measuring, how long things stay on the stove. It’s like that for anything you cook. I’m not great with pancakes, for some reason I always tend to burn them.”

“So what’s your favorite food?” Ken asks, setting the book down and taking to the fridge, flinging the doors wide open and surveying each salad dressing, bottle of water, every can of cold brew coffee. He ran his fingers along the labels, as if reading braille, receiving telepathic information about these products from just handling them. It was an odd sight. Everything he held looked so small in his hands.

“Er… I guess I really like sushi. But I haven’t had it in awhile. Trying to save money, make a habit of eating at home. And I just like to make simple things.”

“What’s in sushi?” Ken’s rotating a banana in his hands, picking at the stem to see what it does.

“A lot of things. Usually raw fish. Rice that sticks together to make a shape, seaweed, different kinds of sauces.” It’s making you laugh, seeing Ken size up this banana with a puzzled look on his face. “Do you want to try eating that?”

He shifts uncomfortably, placing the fruit back down on the counter like it had offended him. “We have these in Barbieland but they are not nearly as squishy. Ours are rock hard. And not brown!”

Ken was right – that banana was probably past its prime, but you hadn’t cleaned out the fridge in a few days. You’d gotten sick of refreshing your inbox waiting for a reply from your supervisor, so you got up and pulled a knife from the drawer, setting the squishy banana on a paper towel to cut it.

“Here. Try this,” you cut through the peel and divide up a small end slice into two pieces, holding one out to Ken who seems frightened by it, squares his shoulders.

“There’s something inside that peel?”

“Go ahead, just take a bite! You might like it, how else will you find out what you like?”

“But (Y/N), I’m not… hungry.”

“That’s okay. It’s a very small slice, I promise it’ll be alright, Ken.”

His eyes flash with trust at the promise you’ve just made him, so he abandons his apprehension and plops the bit into his mouth. It’s like watching a baby bird clamor for its mother’s offering of regurgitated seed and berry mix. Ken doesn’t instinctively chew, he just lets it sit in his mouth like he’s waiting for the fruit to do something. You raise up the other banana slice, catch his eye and show him how to chew, slowly, and then swallow.

Ken nods, although his movements are strange and exaggerated, but eventually allows a smile. “That was pretty good. Mushy.” He searches your face to see if he’s given the correct answer, which is even funnier to you than him trying food for the first time.

“Did you like it? Bananas are on the sweet side.”

“Definitely. I think I really like them. Can I have the rest of it?”

“So you can taste!”

Ken grins to himself, gives you a proud stance and swaggers to the side, popping his hip out as he starts cutting up the rest of the fruit.

“Oh, yeah. I can taste everything. Nothing I can’t taste.”

“When I go to the store next I can get you some more sweet foods. But you can’t just eat sweets. Fruit is naturally sweet, but for example, you can’t just have ice cream and brownies all the time. Your body will hate you for that.”

“And I can make you pancakes with bananas.” Ken adds, cocky as ever, already physically spreading himself out in your kitchen like he owns the place, thighs open and easy and confident as he leans back. He adjusts quickly to new situations, you’re discovering, with none of the social anxiety most people might feel.

“Let’s save the cooking and… turning on the stovetop… for when I can teach you. It can be dangerous if you’re not familiar with what to do.”

“But what if I want to surprise you, (Y/N)? You wouldn’t want to ruin it, would you?”

“I’d rather ruin the breakfast than have you accidentally catch my apartment building on fire.”

Ken considers this, starts chewing at the rest of the banana slices while still committed to looking cool as he does so. “You’re so right. So, where do you think I should sleep?”

You put some distance between the two of you, since proximity to the blonde had begun to make you feel inexplicably self conscious, and sit back down at your laptop. You hadn’t gotten this far, hadn’t decided where Ken could stay and if he was even going to stay. Stay for what? A crash course in becoming a member of society? Turn him into the perfect roommate who’s convinced you’re dating now? And how in the hell were you qualified to teach him anything about life, fulfillment, health or success when you were far from the epitome of any of those?

“I thought you said you didn’t get tired.”

“There’s something I need to tell you about,” the sudden change in Ken’s tone caught you off guard, so after taking a brief glance at your emails again and confirming nothing of substance had arrived, you folded your hands in your lap and turned your body towards him, anticipatory and patient.

“When Barbie went to the real world, almost everything about her changed. She still looked like herself, but… it was different. She told us that she got a cold.” Ken gestured to his nose, crinkling it up in dismay. “Sniffling. She had to use tissues.”

“You’re worried about getting sick?”

“No, not… right now.” Ken tried again, attacking it from a different angle. “Barbie said the longer she was here, the more she kept changing. Barbies never got sick before. But she had to see a human doctor, and she started making her own food and eating it. Sandwiches. And her flat feet never went away.” Ken’s distress was evident, but you weren’t sure what he was getting at, couldn’t see what panicked him so much about this topic.

“I don’t understand. What are you saying, Ken?” You tried to keep yourself casual, so as not to freak him out even further; he’d already begun pacing, boots clacking against your kitchen tile with each step.

“I’m saying that the longer I stay here, the less I’m going to be like… how I was.” He sounded so unsure, on the precipice of a conclusion, fearful of what he might learn. “Don’t you get it? I’ll have to brush my hair. Call the dentist. Pay taxes. Wear deodorant. I might get a breakout on my chin, just like Barbie did.” The last part sounded like the nail in the coffin for Ken, who looked weak just recalling the memory.

“Taxes? But you don’t have a job, do you? For all the city knows, you don’t even exist.”

“That’s not the point, (Y/N)! I’ll have to get a job.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. So… it sounds like you’ll become less like a doll?”

“Exactly. And I’ll have to do it alone.” Ken was silent, pensive as you let his confession settle. Perhaps it wasn’t the changes that he dreaded.

It was doing it without any support.

“I see. So you’ll have to sleep. You’ll have to eat. Is that scaring you?” Your intention was to minimize these facts of daily human life, shrink them down to manageable tasks, not to trivialize his valid concerns.

Ken hollowed his cheek, bit the skin in between his teeth and looked around for something to focus on while he reflected on what you asked. Noticing the cage you had set up for your guinea pig, Ken crouched in front of it without so much as a knee crack, raising his eyebrows up inquisitively.

“Who’s this?”

“I should’ve introduced you to her earlier. She’s my guinea pig, her name’s Willa. See her long hair? It’s really beautiful, but she’s pretty high maintenance.”

Sounds like someone else in this room.

Being so close to Willa appeared to calm Ken down, and you watched his shoulders drop slightly, saw the veins in his neck depress, growing less agitated. “Does she have to brush her hair?”

The cookbooks, grocery lists, the banana had inspired Ken to ask countless questions, but meeting Willa, Ken merely watched in quiet awe.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his purported jab. “I help her with it every day. She’s got a special little brush.”

“Hers is longer than mine. At least she gets some assistance.”

Ken sighs deeply, not taking his eyes off tiny caramel colored Willa, who has no idea what’s happening, just lounges in the paper substrate fleece and wiggles her nose up at the blonde staring her down. He rubs meager circles on his knees as if to soothe himself, then sighs again, long and dramatic. From minute to minute, Ken’s moods shift so drastically – he could be lovingly describing his newfound obsession with bananas and then just as easily pivot to jealousy over a guinea pig receiving grooming services from its owner. Decoding him was like whiplash.

“Ken?”

“I’ve been putting off thinking about this part.”

“You mean losing your doll-ness?”

“Yeah.” Ken’s voice is small, terrified, unbefitting of how he presented himself. Put together, well dressed, toned, tanned, oozing with charm. It all dissipated with his answer.

With your foot, you push out the dining table chair adjacent to you, the scrape spooking Ken as he jumps. “Why don’t you come sit here and talk with me? You can bring Willa, she likes making friends. Just be mindful of her.” Nervous, Ken obliges, sticks a hand into her enclosure and waits for Willa to crawl over to him.

To your shock, she comes without a moment’s hesitation, nosing at his palm and blinking at him. Willa ardently disapproved of your last boyfriend, and she never seemed to like the odd hookup you’d bring over after your explosive breakup. She’d ignore any man in the apartment for the most part, but you couldn’t believe how easy it had been for her to warm up to Ken, snuggling up to him already.

“Wow. She normally doesn’t like strangers.”

“Looks like she prefers your friends. She’s so soft,” Ken notes, temporarily forgetting about the needling anxiety he’d been expressing to you, and sits down. At your table Ken seemed larger than life, so full of color and irresistible personality. The most interesting irregularity you had ever entertained. He flattened the backs of his hands on the placemat and smiled down shyly at Willa, gentle like he was convinced the tiniest movement could hurt her.

(A smile that had the power to devastate – could ruin your life, could make you want to throw it all away just to know him; a smile that Ken saved specifically for a defenseless creature that nibbed at his thumbnail.)

“Go ahead and pet her! They like that,” you encouraged Ken, denying the lump in your throat, who obeys and brings a steady forefinger to Willa’s back, warily petting her in one stunted action. Willa rustles, but doesn’t flee or make any noises contesting his presence. “She might try to run away, so just make sure you keep an eye on her.”

“I promise I will, (Y/N). How old is she?”

“She’s two and a half.” You raise your eyes to Ken, who’s entranced by the small animal and her lustrous coat, indifferent to his surroundings now that he’s connected with this hairy comrade. “How old are you?”

“I have no idea. How old are you?”

This shouldn’t have surprised you at this point. Nothing could catch you off guard now as you went down the list, dedicating yourself wholly to figuring out what to do with this guy. Given how unadjusted he is to the world, is Ken your responsibility now? What would happen to him if he went out, unprepared, unassimilated, and tried to do things like get a job, buy something from the store? Had he ever seen currency before?

Would you have to teach Ken math? You failed calculus. More than once. This wasn’t boding well.

“I’m twenty five. You don’t have a birthday?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s how you keep track of your age. Could you look at me for a second? Maybe I can try and guess.” Ken’s reluctant to stop looking at Willa, but does as you say, and it strikes you to admire him overtly like this, free from the guise of contrived modesty, not hiding how strongly you want to see him. He’s open, almost tranquil, those wide eyes continuously following yours, every single aspect of his demeanor softening the more you drink him in.

You couldn’t help but freeze. Pinning him. You could hear the robins chirping outside on the patio. Buses shuttling along on the road outside. Your blood pumping in your fingers, the hot curl of desire in your stomach. At once, everything felt vibrant, felt… exceptional.

Because of him.

Blonde angel, almost porcelain. Kind with your pet. Enthralled with the simplest items you owned. Eager to assist you with any task, however minor. Naively trusting.

Blind to the ways this world could twist and chew you up. Brand new.

You wouldn’t ever be the source of pain for Ken. In that moment, searching his stark blue eyes for an answer to a question you couldn’t articulate, you wrote it on your heart, that no matter what happened – whether Ken stayed in your life, as a friend or something more – you would never hurt him.

You don’t even remember what you were trying to do with him. Mesmerized, you simply just enjoyed the sight, at a loss for words. What was there to say that wouldn’t fizzle out and die on your lips?

How are you real? (He wasn’t.)

How did you get here? (He’d waited for you.)

Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

“(Y/N)? Did you calculate it yet? Maybe it’ll be easier if I unbutton my jacket. Willa, stay put, I need to do something,” It flew over your head, you couldn’t hear what he said, just gawked and felt your pulse thrum as Ken started to undo the top of his denim jacket. Deft fingers working, you had to be aware of how affected you looked. You couldn’t hide it.

To see more of Ken’s chest physically pained you – it hurt to look, hurt to squirm and act like it wasn’t overwhelming, burning you up. He showed off his defined, carved muscle, smooth and enticing like a joke or something.

Willa sniffed the salt and pepper shaker, not moving even a millimeter away from Ken as he undid the last button with a muffled pop.

Where wisps of blonde hair would’ve led down to the tip of Ken’s waistband, there was nothing, just more of that milky white skin, blameless and pure and teasing. Where ribs should have anatomically been, his chest expanded then deflated, ripples of flesh rolling, then relaxing.

All of him on display. All of him so… bare.

Well – not all of him. Not yet.

You hadn’t felt anything like this before, not ever. You were experienced – you weren’t uneducated when it came to sex, or… pleasure. Yet it was impossible that you’d felt true desire in the past, even for the man you’d fallen in love with and been betrayed by, because those memories shriveled in comparison to what you felt in this moment, seeing Ken like this, expectant and unrestrained and so fiercely magnetizing. You saw your future, you saw his body, you saw Ken’s long eyelashes fluttering and pretty like a girl’s, and it was too fucking much, louder than your heart slamming inside your chest.

You began to question if you were even real. If this was happening. Maybe you were the lifeless doll. Harsh stings peppered out along the slope of your neckline – for the second time since meeting Ken, did that really just happen today? – and you made the horrible mistake of telling him the truth just as he was starting to visibly fidget, awaiting your reply.

“(Y/N)? Is this helping? If not, I can –”

“You’re so goddamned gorgeous. Fuck.”

“What?” Ken blinked, taken aback. He looked like he wanted to say more, to press you, but he couldn’t form a response.

“I’m. Jesus. I am so sorry, Ken. That wasn’t appropriate at all. I’m… supposed to be helping you. I’m sorry.” Dizzyingly, you shot to your feet, dug your heels against the floor just to feel grounded, and reached over the table for your purse.

Weren’t you the one supposed to be in charge of boundaries? Teaching Ken how to act, how not to rush things when you met someone you wanted to get to know?

Ken had flushed a deep shade of peach, an obvious blush that mottled his neck and spread out to his clavicles, nearly reaching his shoulder tips.

“Did I do something wrong? Can you please tell me what it was?” Ken urged, pupils the size of saucers and still dancing to follow your every move. His face was frantic, lips parted revealing more of his perfect teeth, just another element of his perfect face, everything so perfect about him, and your headache threatened to return in full force.

“No – no, you didn’t, Ken. I promise. I just need to go outside and smoke, it’s not your fault, okay? Can you please stay here with Willa? I’ll only be a minute.”

Ken clearly didn’t know what you meant, or what smoking entailed, but he stayed fused to the chair, biting at his lip again in fragile confusion and not daring to abandon Willa. Fumbling for your lighter through the fabric, you caught the unmistakable downturn of rejection swimming across his features, and the notion that you might have inadvertently let him down made you sicker than the intense wave of lust that had just crashed over you, almost crumbling you, reducing you to nothing but a star cursed to orbit a bigger, more important planet.

#ken #ryan gosling #ken barbie #barbie movie #ken x reader #ken x fem reader #ryan gosling ken #female reader

162 notes · View notes

anzynai · 4 months

Note

Oh, are requests open? Weeell, maybe a little something with the Leech twins and lee!reader (platonic), if you're okay with it? 👉🏻👈🏻✨

Have a nice day Jai <3

Two Times the Trouble

Jade & Floyd & Reader (Twisted Wonderland)

a/n: ANON I LOVE U SO MUCH FOR THIS. i love this request!!! anyways i did pour my heart onto this fic!! i struggled a little more that i thought i would?? the idea was a bit difficult but i think i made it work! this is the first request from the batch of TWST requests ive received (a long time ago, unfortunately, but im choosing to blame it on the fact i was doing my SS fic..) so sorry the request took forever but at least its here now LOL hope u enjoy!! ALSO FIRST FIC FOR THE NEW YEAR LETS GO

summary: when floyd learns of your ticklishness, you are already on edge around him. you didn’t know you had to be wary of his twin, too.

word count: 1.5k

——

You might be in trouble. You might really be in trouble.

It all started just a few minutes earlier. You were in class, minding your own business! Of course, Floyd was in the class, but so was Jade. Azul.. was not, and the only reason you noticed because somehow the three of them were almost always together, unless they weren’t..?

Anyway, Floyd usually only interacted with Jade or Riddle, if he was in the mood for teasing the housewarden. He didn’t really talk to you all that much.

So obviously, you were surprised when he apparently had decided to change his target for the day to you, plopping down in the seat next to you. Grim often sat there and you could hear his protests, but Floyd either didn’t hear or pretended not to. Eventually, Grim grumbled and just moved to sitting on top of your desk. He was small enough.

“What’s up, Shrimpy?” Floyd drawled, a small grin on his face, showing his spiky teeth. It must be a Moray thing, you thought offhandedly.

“Oh, hey, Floyd.” You greeted him back with a small smile. Mostly out of politeness because you had no idea what he was doing there.

“M’ bored. Jade won’t entertain me. And Goldfishie’s not here.” He sighed, sadly, though, it did not sound genuine at all.

“That sounds annoying.” You said, but you start focusing your attention away from him and to Professor Trein, who began speaking. And… you really didn’t want to get on his bad side.

“Yeah, you get it, Shrimpy. That’s why you’re gonna entertain me today!” Floyd grinned, a large toothy smile, almost like an innocent child.

“Am I?” You asked, though it was more of a “response” than a question. You looked down at your notebook, jotting down notes as Trein lectured, pouting when you saw Grim snoozing away. Usually, Trein noticed right away, but he seemed very invested in his lecture today.

“Mhm!” Floyd said, slowly, before he decided to try annoying you. From taking away your notebook so you couldn’t write it down, from kicking your chair, from grabbing every little thing he could get his hands on. You began feeling pity for Riddle. You had always thought he was exaggerating, but you swore you could feel yourself popping a blood vessel every two seconds.

Suddenly, Floyd decided that stealing your items were too boring and he resorted to poking you instead. Again. And again. And again.

“Would you sto-AH!” You tried whispering but then he poked a spot on your side and you couldn’t hold back your squeal.

“Everything alright over there?” Trein asked, seemingly annoyed that his class was disrupted.

“I—uh yeah!” You stuttered out, embarrassed as everyone turned towards the two of you. You glanced over, hoping that Floyd didn’t notice, but the scary grin on his face told you otherwise. For the rest of class, he kept poking your side and you found yourself unable to focus on the lesson, trying your hardest not to giggle.

“I’m gonna squeeze ya!” Floyd exclaimed, though a bit quietly. When the bell rang, you were the first one out the door.

You didn’t notice that Jade had been watching the two of you the entire time.

——

“Floyd, leave me alone!” You shrieked, running around the mostly empty lounge. You decided to get a quick snack from there since you were about to dive headfirst into an all-night study session for the Alchemy test coming up and you figured that making sure you weren’t hungry would.. help.

It was supposed to be in and out. Quick and easy.

It was not in and out.

Floyd was clearly still interested by his discovery, which even you had thought he had forgotten about. Really, he got bored of most things so quickly so why not now!?

So brings you to the present, him chasing you, wiggling his fingers menacingly and you running as far from him as you can. Azul sighed, used to Floyd’s antics.

“Just don’t mess up the lounge… or you’ll be cleaning it all by yourself.” He said, before walking away and into the kitchen.

You, on the other hand, ran towards Jade, who had been watching you guys with amusement. He seemed like he was wondering whether he should continue watching or help you and well, you decided it for him.

“Jade, help!” You exclaim, ducking behind him and using him as cover. You guys hopefully seemed friends enough to be able to do this, so you were obviously gonna use it to your advantage!

“Now, Floyd, don’t be like this..” Jade started, a pleasant smile on his face that had you sighing in relief and Floyd groaning in disappointment.

“Come on, Jade, just let me squeeze 'em..”

“Look at them, don’t you think they’d be too sensitive to endure your wrath?” Jade added and you could see the exact moment Floyd’s gaze lit up and all hopes of mercy on your poor, unfortunate soul were shattered. But before you could move, Jade grabbed your wrist, locking your arms up easily. You struggled in his grasp, but it was no use. It wasn’t even as if you were weak! What did he eat anyway?! Were moray just stronger?

“Jade.. How could you do this to me..?!” You shouted, betrayed, gulping when Floyd walked towards you, menacingly. It was fast-paced, but to you, it felt like he was walking in slow-motion.

“I must apologize. However, I should indulge both myself and my dear brother at times. You must understand.” Jade said, though there was not an ounce of guilt on his face. Your arms, which were hooked up from Jade’s arms were suddenly released, but that didn’t mean you could escape. Instead, Jade wrapped his arms around your waist and began tickling your sides. And Floyd, well, he pounced and started tickling your stomach, your armpits, pretty much anywhere he could get his hands on.

“N-nOHOHOHO, w-why?!” You cried, feeling overwhelmed by the fact that the Leech twins were so easily tickling you.

“Oooh, Shrimpy, already broke ya, huh?” Floyd teased. He was more on the rougher side of tickling, pinching and squeezing your sensitive skin, while Jade was more gentle, with light grazes and scribbles which were still so evil.

“Ehehehe shuhuhut uhuhup!” You looked around, feeling embarrassed, but the lounge was mostly empty and those who were there seemed occupied with other things so they didn’t pay attention to you. You looked back at the Leech twins, flailing in their arms, but Jade managed to pull your arms above your head with his hand, despite your flailing.

“You’re really going to say that to us? Now, don’t be so mean. You might hurt my feelings.” Jade chucked, deep and low. You knew that what he said was complete bullshit, but you couldn’t comment on it, too caught up on the hands on your body.

They were relentless, that much you could tell. It felt like they were trying to find the spots that made you tick and react the most and you could feel that this wasn’t the last time they’d tickle you like this.

“Plehehehease!” You giggle instead, unable to find the words to respond.

“Please what, Shrimpy? You’re so ticklish already!” Floyd giggled, his hands grasping against your sides and occasionally drifting over towards your stomach.

“Now, now, Floyd. I’d say that they are faring quite well.”

“W-WAHAHAHAHH!” Is your response, apparently. You could just die right now. You never imagined that today would be the day you found yourself being tickled to absolute pieces, by none other than the Leech twins! You began wondering how Azul ever put up with them! Knowing how they’re acting now, you’re sure the three of them have engaged in some sort of tickle-fights, if the experience they very obviously had was anything to go by.

“Sure about that, Jade? They’re like a squeak toy!” You tried to put your lips together. That.. lasted about half a second before you found it hard to keep your mouth shut, eliciting the noises that Floyd had just compared to a toy. “Squeak, squeak!” Floyd chirped, squeezing like you were, in fact, a toy.

“Nohohohoho!!” You shriek, laughing and laughing. The fingers on your body were unrelenting and you could feel tears of mirth begin to prick at your eyes. They hadn’t even gotten your worst spot, and Jade was barely even tickling you, more focused on holding you so Floyd could get more access. Still… you were feeling a bit overwhelmed.

It seemed Jade was watching your reactions, though, because he muttered Floyd’s name. Either that, or he just conveniently and coincidentally noticed at the exact time you were reaching your limit. It didn’t matter, because he had let go of you and Floyd, instead of tickling you, slung his arm over your shoulder, leaning. You felt exhausted, so you just dropped your head, using his arm as a headrest.

“That was super fun, Shrimpy! We gotta do that again sometime!” Floyd laughed, heartily and cheerfully.

“Hopefully not too soon…” You muttered, under your breath, causing Floyd to laugh harder.

“I agree. I wouldn’t mind this scenario happening again.” Jade nodded, poking your side and smirking when you flinch and glare.

“Not you too..” You pout, though you couldn’t hold back a smile. You hadn’t really thought about where you stood with the twins before, but you found that you didn’t ever mind their presence either. In fact, you could feel yourself hoping for times like this to occur more, as well.

#tickling #twisted wonderland #twst tickling #reader insert #jade leech #floyd leech #leech twins #ler!jade #ler!floyd #lee!reader #ticklish!reader #tickle fic #jai’s fic #twst

69 notes · View notes

sxtvrns · 1 year

Text

publicly romantic

🎶 now playing: in my heart (demo) - grentperez

P: Lee Felix x Fem!Reader

S: He fell first, and he fell hard. When you were on the big screen behind him, he knew he fell for you even more.

W: fluff, drabble because im in my kpop era now, no knowledge of skz at all, short

N: if im being honest guys the only reason i decided to write this was because i got inspired by those fan dance things during their world tour ive only ever listened to case 143 and i apologize if this makes me an outsider but i thought this was cute okay enjoy the content

please interact if you enjoy!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When your boyfriend said he was going on a world tour, you did not think it was going to last for nearly an entire year. JYP better give them a break after this.

Dating Felix was a handful. He was always busy and his schedule was packed, you both were travelling constantly, having a home in Sydney and in Seoul. With the tour on his hands as well, it didn’t make it any easier. You saw all the edits of him flooding the internet, all of them reminding you of how much you missed your boyfriend.

So when you were told he was going to Australia, and you were conveniently going to be there at the same time as his concert, you had your fingers crossed you could get tickets. You didn’t care if you were in the pit or in the nosebleeds; you were happy to even be in the same room as him for a little while, even if you had to admire him from afar.

You texted him and called him as much as you could. Whenever your phone rang, you always assumed he was on a break or had free time, knowing that it probably meant the rest of the day was full of work. The amount of people that love him reminds you of how lucky you are to have such a handsome guy who seems so out of reach be your boyfriend.

Things weren’t kept secret for long. When you visited Felix one time, he forgot he was live, saying your name and three forbidden words out loud and straight to the camera: I love you. You never showed your face that live, your hand merely waving hello. It wasn’t until you left the room that both of you had realized what he’d done.

You came into his room after he finished his live, putting his phone away. “What the fuck did you do.” You say, more of a statement rather than a question. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to– it just slipped out!”

“If I knew you were going live, I wouldn’t have come. You slip up easily whenever I’m around.”

“That’s because I love you. And that’s also exactly why I didn’t tell you because I wanted to see you.”

You pace around the room, panicking. “JYP’s gonna kill us. He’s gonna kill you. Your fans are gonna come and kill me!”

“He already knows.”

“What do you mean, ‘he knows’?”

“Chan accidentally ran his mouth. If anything, you wouldn’t be in my room right now if JYP forced me to break up with you. He just told me to be careful… and I do. Ever since we started dating, I’ve been careful.” He sighs, setting his phone down and walking up to you. “I’m sorry. I… you can stay here for a few days if you’re too scared to go outside.”

He knew that people could find what you look like and all your other information with a mere search of your name. This wasn’t the same as other people knowing who his sisters were. Him getting into a dating scandal would jeopardize your safety and his group. He didn’t care about his group at the moment, he was scared for you.

“I… I’d like that, actually. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I assume that means you don’t mind sharing a bed? Unless you want me to sleep on the floor.”

“You really think I want you to sleep on the floor after the amount of time we’ve been apart?” Your response makes him smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling you in for a hug, his hand caressing the top of your head. “I’m really sorry. I know I messed up. And I’m sorry I can’t be there for you all the time.”

“I know. It’s okay. You’re doing your best, and that’s enough. I know you’re working hard and you’re busy. But… I’m hoping we can still try to enjoy ourselves for the time being.”

He pulls away to look at your face, being confused about your sudden switch up.

“Yes, I’m scared, yes, my life is probably going to be in danger at some point, but I did not come to see you just to worry about this and our relationship going public. It’s out there now, and there’s nothing we can do about it. I know I was panicking about it a few seconds ago, but I’ve come to terms that it happened already. I forgive you. And honestly, I’m glad that you’re that comfortable with me to say it in front of thousands of people.”

“I’m sorry–“

“You’ve apologized enough. It’s okay now.” You cut him off, going onto your tip toes to kiss his nose. “Can we order something? I’m hungry.”

“You didn’t think of doing that before my live ended?”

“I was gonna ask you, but I felt I intruded already.”

After that whole fiasco, people found your social media accounts, some of them even following you, flooding your comments with nothing but sentences that had the name Felix in it at least once. You got a few death threats even, but you tried to not let it get to you too much. It made you a bit paranoid, but the more you went out, the more you forgot about them.

Articles were written; Tiktoks and edits took over your feed about the ‘mystery girl’ or ‘Y/N’ behind the camera that gave Felix heart eyes whenever he looked at you. Eventually, they found out what you looked like, and though you were expecting insults, you were instead given compliments.

Pretty, adorable, beautiful… words that made you feel comfortable to be a part of Felix’s life publicly. He never brought it up during conversations or interviews unless another person did, which, he was very cautious with what he was saying.

You had your fair share of hate. It bothered you a little bit, but then remembered the only reason they hated you was that you had something they didn’t: Felix. His love and affection, his admiration and attention. It boosted your ego unhealthily, but you weren’t gonna get all full of yourself over it.

He wasn’t necessarily open about his relationship. He wouldn’t bring up the topic himself; usually someone else would have to. He would answer any questions, but there was always a limit to them. He was all nice about it though, always asking you after if what he said was okay to share with others.

“‘How’s Y/N?’ She’s good. She’s actually visiting, so I hope I’m not too loud.”

“‘How did you two meet?’ She does camerawork and paid us a visit, shadowing someone else. She always came along for a few shoots in a row, but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity so I just asked when no one was looking.”

“You wanna see her? She’s not too comfortable on camera, so I don’t think–“

“Felix, do you want this?”

You look at his tripod set up, then his surprised expression, as if he’d seen a ghost. “What’s wrong? Am I interrupting?”

“Nothing. What is that?”

“It’s a grilled cheese. I put the last of your gochujang in the butter.”

“Ah, thanks, we needed to get rid of it somehow.” You eye the camera. “Your face isn’t showing.” He clarifies, allowing you to walk into frame, letting him take a bite of the sandwich. His eyes light up, enthusiastically nodding. “It’s good!”

“Do you want it? I’ll make another one for myself.” He nods, taking the plate from you. “Thank you!” He says, mouth full as you walk out the door. “Look at this, guys. You guys summoned her, now I get good food.” He bites into it again, visibly enjoying the simple sandwich you made. “I love my girlfriend.”

The clip went viral. It’s now one of Felix’s iconic moments, and the first of your own.

You two were certainly romantic, private and in public. On the occasion you’d post photos of the two of you together, and you were also open about it if you were to do lives together. You weren’t in every live, but he invited you once and it was fun, so you were open to other opportunities.

You kept your hood on, which hid your face a bit well enough on camera.

“Y/N, what are we making?”

“Rose tteokbokki.”

“If you don’t know already, my girlfriend is an amazing cook and she gives me food sometimes during some of my other lives.”

“Then Felix makes brownies after and it’s a full meal.”

He notices your amount of clothing, greater than his. “Why are you wearing your hoodie? Is it not warm?”

“I’m hiding myself, I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of when you’re so pretty.”

“I cannot believe you’re flirting with me in front of over a hundred thousand people.”

“They deserve to know.”

His hand rests atop your head, his fingers gently gripping the hood. You let him take it off, fixing your hair right after. “Isn’t she pretty?” He shows you off to the camera before you hide your face in his chest.

You sat in an innocent little bubble tea shop, scrolling on your phone when you get a call from him unexpectedly. “Hello?” You greet, sipping on your drink. “Y/N, do you wanna come backstage after the concert? Feels like it’s been forever since I’ve last seen you.”

“Probably because it has. Can you really do that?”

“Chan’s parents and siblings are coming, and they’re going backstage, my sisters are coming too.”

“I mean, I’d like to, if it’s possible.”

He chuckles. “I’ll see you there.”

“Love you.”

There’s a brief pause, and you think about hanging up.

“Love you too.” He mutters, ending the call. It wasn’t very ‘professional’ of him to be calling his girlfriend when he should have been out there practicing, but he’s been kept from you long enough. He just couldn’t help himself.

And besides, he’d do anything for you.

As if it were a coincidence, it turned out you were sitting next to Hannah, who greeted you with a hug when she saw you sit down in the seat beside hers. Now you were sitting in your nosebleed seat, eagerly leaning forward to stare at the screen, the sudden random play dance coming on.

From your knowledge, a camera would focus on a certain fan in the audience, mostly in the further back, said fan having to follow one of the boy group’s dances. This would usually come on mid performance, meaning the members would be watching as well.

You’re so engaged staring at the screen, excited to see who’s on next that you don’t realize that it’s you. “Y/N!” Chan says, looking over at Felix. The choreography for God’s Menu begins to play as Hannah forces you up onto your feet, cheering you on.

You hand her your lightstick and place your bag down, forcing yourself to get over it and just do the dance for the few seconds you’re on screen. In your opinion, you did pretty well, judging from the screams that erupted from every inch of the room. You do the ending fairy, leaning against the railing again with a hand under your chin, sending a wink and a flying kiss across the arena. You immediately get shy, hiding your face in Hannah’s shoulder.

“Wow.” Felix starts, feeling Chan pat his back. “That’s my girlfriend, everyone.” He points in your direction, the arena flooded with screams as Felix’s ears and face slowly go red on the screen. You feel your own face heat up as you cover it, Hannah shaking you uncontrollably. “He’s blushing!” Han teases, pointing at your boyfriend’s crimson face. “C’mon, man, say something to her!” Chan says, ushering him closer to the edge of the stage.

“Y/N, I love you!” He holds a finger heart up, sending a flying kiss back to you. Your face goes warm at his bold move, yet you feel pride that he’s comfortable to do that openly in an arena full of his screaming fans. “Don’t cover your smile, you’re beautiful.” The screams somehow get even louder, and you feel as though a million eyes are on you as you wave your lightstick gleefully.

“Aww, so sweet!” Seungmin adds, poking at Felix’s open affection.

“Do you guys wanna know what Felix does? He scrolls through her photos sometimes before practice and he comes back all red. His excuse was that warm up was tough on him.” Chan exposes, though isn’t immediately stopped by his friend. You laugh at the thought, it being heartwarming at the same time.

You wait with Hannah, her parents, and Felix’s family after the concert, seeing Chan walk out first and greet his family, then you. “Felix ‘s coming, just grabbing something.” You nod, letting him reunite with his family for the time being. You smile at his feuding with his sister, feeling a tap on your shoulder.

Felix is standing right behind you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, and you practically jump into his arms. “Geez, I’m so sorry, I smell so bad.” His sweat makes your hands cling to him, yet when you look at his face, it made him all the more attractive. Still smelly, but somehow sexy at the same time. He had a towel on his shoulder, wiping his sweat off as best he could. He pulls away to greet his mom and his sisters, taking their pictures for them. You watched in awe how sweet their connection was and how close they were.

You overheard his mom talking to him before they left. “Treat her good, okay? You don’t want to lose her.” Your heart melts, now aware you’ve truly earned his mother’s approval. He walks over to you, stopping to simply admire you, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear.

“My god, you’re beautiful. I’ve missed you so much.” He mutters, the words making you blush and jump onto him for a long awaited kiss. One of those long, cheesy movie kisses was a way to describe it, but who cares if it was cheesy, you finally got to kiss him after months of being away from each other. “Loved your dance, by the way. When’d you get the time to learn that?”

“Circumstances. Figured it’d be best to be prepared.”

“You did fuckin’ amazing, then.” His hand covers his mouth, eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“You aren’t live anymore, it’s fine.”

“Still felt wrong.”

“Do you guys want me to take a picture of you?” Hannah appears out of nowhere, startling you. You nod, handing her your phone, posing for a couple pictures, feeling Felix’s hand on your hip the entire time. “Alright, now kiss!” Hannah says jokingly, Chan shoving her shoulder.

“Seriously–“ You get cut off by Felix’s lips on yours, smiling into the kiss. Hannah eagerly takes photos, even when he pulls away, simply staring into your eyes as if he could see a whole world behind them. “Can you post that?” He asks, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Am I allowed to?”

“I’m the one that asked.”

That was a yes.

When Hannah hands your phone back to you after scrolling through the photos, she says, “You know I was joking, right?” You huff with a smile, staring at the photo of the two of you kissing. “If Felix was given a chance to kiss me, he would do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked.”

missed this goofball <3 love you always and forever, lixie (ps i love ur abs)

YALL R SO CUTE

AWWWW

i want this SO BAD you dont understand

that should be me

SHE IS SO PRETTY

tbh felix same id fold too

HAHAHA CAPTION IS SO REAL

“Have you been doing that for every show?” You ask, Felix running his fingers through your hair. “Doing what?” His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and back. “Showing your abs. Lifting your shirt up and shit.”

He chuckles, his smile so pure talking about such a suggestive topic. “Yeah, why?”

“You’re telling me if I went to your Korea concert, I would have seen your abs there too?”

“You can see my abs anytime, Y/N.”

“I can?”

“You’re my girlfriend, of course you can.”

“Well, I don’t see you enough to see them that often but–“ When you turn back, his shirt is lifted up, showing them off in the middle of a Sydney sidewalk at an ungodly hour in the morning. You yank his shirt back down, Felix laughing almost too loud. “How indecent of you.”

“If indecent is what it takes to make your face like that, I’ll be it all the time.”

“Shut up.”

“You know you like it.”

“Maybe I do, so what?” You turn your face away from him, feeling his fingers rest under your chin to face you towards him again. “So… show me that you like it.”

“Felix, I am not having sex with you in the middle of the sidewalk at one in the morning.”

“So you’d have sex with me if we weren’t on the sidewalk?”

“I don’t think I can even have sex with you. At all.”

“Who’s stopping us?”

“Your fans. Your company.”

“They don’t have to know.”

“‘lix–“

“I know, I know. I’m just joking. Maybe when this whole idol thing is over.”

“It’ll be a while, then.”

“Hope you’re still in love with me by the time I’m 30.”

“I’ll always be in love with you, ‘lix.”

“Really?” He stops in front of you. “Really.”

“You promise?” He holds out his pinkie finger. You hook your own with his. “Promise.”

And he kisses you. Again, and again, and again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

i wanna be where you are; feel so close though you’re so far, you’re my girl. 🎧

#lee felix #lee felix x reader #skz felix #felix x reader #stray kids #stray kids felix #felix drabbles #felix blurbs #skz x reader #skz fluff #fanfiction #sorry if this is bad

333 notes · View notes

sakasakiii · 11 months

Note

Hi!

I love your work!! Your art is very pretty. Do you have a specific idea of how old everyone is ? Do you lean more towards canon or do you have your own dates in mind ? If don’t wanna a answer it’s ok!

Hope u have a nice day

(Remember to drink water!)

hiiii nonnie!!! thank you for checking in, and im happy u like the stuff i put out!! when it comes to ages, it's difficult to answer sometimes bc of the way professor tolkien's timeline is-- it makes gauging one singular place where most of the cast can be compared something that makes my tired brain go 😵🤧🤕 but i love the prompt youve given! and thus heres my attempt at it

with most of my tolkien stuff, i always try to stick to canon wherever possible emphasis is on try lmao and the topic of ages is one such place. i do make exceptions to the Professor's canon sometimes for a few reasons: 1) i like some of the scrapped ideas in his drafts, or 2) i just prefer other options. with ages, i think the only charas with canon-established ages i deviated from are fingolfin, finrod, turgon, and aredhel. i try to keep cases like these minimal tho, so i hope it doesn't bother anyone too much... 👉👈

anyways i figured just dropping a list of numbers would be kinda boring to look at so heres an illustrated guide to what the ~rough~ ages of the finweans are in my head whenever i write or draw. Y.T. 1495 (the year Finwe dies) is the controlled medium ive used to enable a fair comparison of the Finweans

note: "born Y.T. xxx" means this is the canon date of birth listed on Tolkien Gateway. "est. born [xxx]" means this is a noncanon estimate:

the First Age gets a lot more muddled from there due to the hullaballoo of everything going on, so ill only be including the doriathrim and a few other denizens of nargothrond:

it's mostly the older elves that are more undefined/vague with their ages (i.o.w. others like elwing, earendil, the peredhil twins, and most Men all have set dates of birth), so they're all i'll be doing for now. but it's that vagueness which makes hcing all the more enjoyable, isn't it! plus since we’re on this subject, under the cut are just a few headcanons and musings ive had that i wanted to put somewhere 😙

Finarfin and Earwen were born within months of each other! Finwe and Olwe made a Really Big Deal out of when they found out their wives were pregnant at the same time. As a result, the two were often sent on many playdates with each other to “bolster healthy relations” between the Noldor and the Teleri. It wasn’t an arranged marriage situation, but I like to think they were goofy for each other from the start… Resulting in the two eventually getting married as soon as they came of age, the fastest out of all of Finwe’s kids to do so.

The reason the Ambarussa are significantly younger than the other Finweans (especially the Feanorians-- there’s a 100 Valian year gap between them and Curufin alone!) is because I imagine they were accidental babies that even Feanor didn’t expect to conceive. too bad morgoth said "its morgin time!" and started Messing Things Up shortly afterwards.....

Anaire was Lalwen's good friend long before she married Fingolfin; they met through Lalwen who wingmanned Fingolfin the whole time. i like think Anaire'd be the best out of all the wives at keeping good, healthy bonds with all the women of her family :DD

luthien's potential 姐姐/big sis dynamic with all the younger doriathrim elves is something i daydream about a lot 😌 but sometimes the fact that she's older than finarfin keeps me up at night

this has been really fun, so thanks again for asking-- annnd yessir, i am chugging water as i write this so you better be doing the same ❤️ have a great start to your week!

163 notes · View notes

axel-skz · 1 year

Text

Your behaviour is so…UGHH

A/N: this is my first post. I’m kind of just writing it because I really want something super angsty right now 💀 (I’m listening to music and ive shuffled all of stray kids music and drive just came on LMAO)

Summery: Chan had been working late for a while but today was important, he missed Y/Ns birthday.

Bang chan x Gender neutral reader

Chan had been late again. All week he had worked late but you expected that he would atleast be home for your birthday. You had a party and you had reminded him atleast 12 hundred times. He was your most important guest. He had reassured you again and again that he would be there.

You had been looking forward to today for so long. You tried never to get in the way of your boyfriends work because you knew how important it was to him.

But in your heart, you felt it when he was away a lot.

Secretly in your mind, today would be special because you had a legitimate reason for him to be there. You would have a day to show off your favourite person in the world.

But it didn’t happen. As every hour ticked by, your heart broke a little more. You spent the party constantly glancing at the clock. Most of your friends didn’t mention him not being there. Although you had expressed your excitement to them multiple times in the days before.

The looks of pity felt as though they were burning your resolve ever so slowly.

When everyone left, you sat in the middle of your room on the floor, staring at the wall of the now very messy room. Tears pouring down your face.

It felt like you were alone in this relationship. You tried your best to be there at every one of his milestones. Every time he had an important event or just his birthdays. Not only for him but all the members.

It took so much of you to go to award shows. An event where you both had to pretend you didn’t know each other outside of work. But you were there. Because he was. Moral support.

You sat there for a while with no sense of time until your phone buzzed.

A tiny part of you hoped that it was him.

It wouldn’t do much now though would it?

It was your most consistent friend, pinterest. You let out a strangled laugh. Then you took a breath and started to clean everything. Once that was done, you started to pack.

Enough was enough.

It was very late into the night when you got done with all of this.

As you finished clearing the apartment of your things, you heard the front door unlock. The sheer amount of panic that started to course through you was terrifying.

You froze for a second when you heard steps approaching you.

He opened the bedroom door while looking at his phone.

‘Hey baby, you still up? Its- uh, you going somewhere?’ He said as he noticed your bags.

‘I’m going away… for a while…’ You said while looking down.

He started to look worried, ‘away? Away where? How long’s a while? Why do you need to go?’ He put the stuff he was holding on a side table.

‘Chan, I need to leave. I can’t be here. Its too much for me to constantly feel like I’m waiting for you,’ you hurried with gathering the last of your things.

‘What? Waiting for me…? Why? What happened?’ He started walking over to you but you backed up. He stopped, instantly with a look of hurt.

‘Have you seen the date?’ With that, his face dropped. He nervously laughed.

‘No no no, that’s not today, its not-’ he took his phone out and saw the date. He was stunned. ‘I’m so sorry, I could’ve sworn your birthday was tomorrow…I was too distracted all day to be able to get to my phone.’

You looked so hurt, ‘now you won’t have to worry about remembering things. Things that aren’t as important. I won’t bother you with anything.’

You grabbed your things and made a move to the door but he moved to block you.

‘It is important! I was just really distracted. I had so much going on in my mind that I lost track of time. I swear, I’ll make it up to you, just don’t leave,’ he pleaded.

‘You still have to make up for the last 3 dates you missed. What? Should I tack this onto the list? But also be mindful because you will take on 3 more projects at the start of the next week.’ You couldn’t do it anymore. It was constantly one thing after another. You constantly felt like the bad guy but you wanted to be supportive and he said he would try. But then he didn’t. He always had a reason not to. And you couldn’t do it anymore.

‘You know I’m not doing it on purpose. It’s just part of my work,’ he looked so worn out, you had to look away otherwise you would give up.

‘I can’t do this right now. And from the looks of things, you can’t either. Trying just isn’t cutting it anymore. I need to be anywhere but here.’

‘Y/N please… I can try harder… I’ll find a way… just… don’t leave…’ his voice breaking.

‘If you care about me even a little, don’t say anything else. Just let me go. Atleast for a bit. I need to do this,’ you started to leave again but he didn’t stop you. He stood there, still. Looking at the floor.

And you left. Not knowing what would happen next. When or if you would even see him again.

Note: please remember to like or reblog (I’m not too sure how tumblr works lmao)

Gimme suggestions on prompts you might want :)

Part 2

[I’ve tried to look over it but if there’s anything that isn’t gender neutral about the reader, lemme know and I’ll fix it]

#bang chan #bang chan x reader #skz x reader #skz angst #angst #stray kids #stray kids angst #stray kids bang chan #channie #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids break up #bang chan angst #gender neutral reader

286 notes · View notes

leolingo · 6 months

Text

(long post about purgatory and meta and rp)

sigh one thing ive been thinking is that it feels a bit unfair to see so many people complaining or doomposting over how purgatory affects the overarching qsmp rp story or how it ~interrupted arcs~ or is ~disturbing current storylines~ or ~narratively unsatisfying~ like. Sure. its a bit abrupt and most players were caught off guard because lore-wise it stems from the federation which means none of them were told about anything beforehand

but... its only been three days. maybe we could have a little faith? like idk ill be soooooo out there rn and say that maybe the admins did this now for a reason. maybe itll make sense later on. we already see lore repercussions with elquackity and his motives and all the nods to the eggs.

theres fair criticism to be made (when done respectfully) if youre mainly here for the roleplay but i feel like we sometimes need to remind ourselves that the qsmp storytelling is a VERY ambitious project. lmao. imagine being the writing team and trying to wrangle 20+ characters with distinct points of view and journeys on an ever-changing story because of the very nature of live rp. its practically IMPOSSIBLE to tie up every loose end neatly and at this point i dont think we should expect that. keeping up momentum with all plotlines must also be pretty hard, cc's schedules and outside factors like server programming and building and mod tweaking and all those meta elements considered and so on and so on

i DO also want the story to move forward and be cohesive and make sense in a satisfactory way. like i really do!!!!!!! but i try to understand that thats not ALL the qsmp is about. from the start quackity said the server wouldn't be exclusive to the rp aspect. it sure is that way right now, but thats because most of the active members are VERY passionate about roleplaying. thats a good thing! they have fun and its fun to watch and the experience is mostly good for everyone because it corresponds to their expectations to an extent

the thing about purgatory is that i feel like its a lot more meta than most people doomposting realize. it ties into the story, sure, but to me it feels like the sudden switch in environment and vibes and stakes isnt actually catered to the rp and thats FINE. like thats not what it exists for and thats fineeeeeee

pac for one has said he appreciates the event for the change of pace, though its very hard (lol), because regular qsmp was starting to feel a bit stale to him and he was kind of running out of things to do. THATS A GREAT THING! managing player engagement like that is awesome and sometimes necessary. YES, purgatory caters to a very different playstyle than what we're used to -- and thats one of its strenghts.

a lot of hispanic creators have also felt this!!!! roier, rivers and carre most prominently have been VERY excited about this event because its similar in format to a lot of spanish speaking events like mc extremo and such. a lot of these players are also not particularly interested in rp-ing and had not been logging on very often prior to purgatory.

even roleplay regulars like tubbo, fit and bbh have shown interest in purgatory for the competitive nature of the setting!!! thats cool too!!!! something different, new possibilities to play around with. thats what the events should be about. kudos to the admins and dev teams for attempting it in such a big scale. their effort shows and all the mechanics weve seen are really fucking cool

i love the roleplay!!!!!! its one of my favorite parts of the qsmp!!!!!! but its not ALL there is and it shouldnt be! non rp-oriented creators are also part of the project and deserve to have a little fun too -- not to mention a big chunk of the hispanic fan community that has blown up twitter with support bc what we have rn is similar to events they already love!!!!!!! im glad to see so many of them get excited again!!!!!!

at the end of the day, qsmp is a LONG long term project, and purgatory ends in two weeks. by the time its over, we can all choose to engage with it as we wish. it can be a big filler episode in your mind, if you want. it can be just for fun..... otherwise, if its not fun, your regularly scheduled qsmp will be back soon anyway :3 its fine to not like it, its fine to have something negative to say about it if properly tagged and not like. crazy entitled or blown out of proportion for what this situation is.

i just hope we can all manage our online experiences accordingly and avoid making things less enjoyable for each other. this is supposed to be fun

#rant kind of #i hate hate hate doomposting it drains me #lets not assume the worst!!!!!! lets wait and see!!!!!!! theres so much time!!!!!!! how about that #qsmp #discourse

74 notes · View notes

untilwedont · 1 year

Text

Sleep Well, Dear

I Love You Forever

Pairings: Ethan Landry x Male!Reader

Summary: In which reader falls asleep on Ethan after a long week of studying

Warnings: Mentions of not eating, reader being very sleep deprived, Ethan being a good boyfriend

A/N; Im sorry im writing so much ethan landry fics ive just been so obsessed with him lately 😭

It was finally edging towards the end of the first semester. This was great since your college gave you a break, but with the semester coming to an end came finals week. This was really important to you because you wanted to make sure you passed every class with a good grade. You decided it'd be a great idea to start studying two weeks before finals week, putting all your mental health needs behind you and your studying in front.

It was the first day of studying. You sat in the very back of the library so you wouldn't be so distracted from all the other noise by other people. You read the time on your phone '10:15 AM' You hoped you'd get at least a few hours of studying done before you called it a night. You made sure to tell your friends & your boyfriend where you were incase they wanted to study with you.

What was supposed to only be a few hours turned into wasting your whole day on studying. You checked your phone again, thinking maybe only a couple hours passed.

3 missed calls from 'Mi amor 💘"

1 missed call from 'TaRAAA'

3 messages from 'SAmmm'

'2:15 AM'

Your eyes widened, "Shit, how long have I been in here?" You mumbled before finally looking up from your phone, noticing that the library was empty. Your eyes had been so glued to your textbooks that you hadn't noticed everyone in the library left. You rubbed your hands on your face, your tiredness finally kicking in. "I'll just message them tomorrow, I'm sure their asleep." You thought to yourself before packing up your things and leaving.

'7:15 AM'

You were back in the library once again, disregarding the fact that you hadn't eaten a full breakfast. You only had a granola bar before leaving your dorm. You only got 5 hours of sleep last night but that wasn't important to you. "Okay, this time I'll only be in here for a few hours." you mumbled before opening your textbooks, diving right back into studying.

'9:07 AM'

You checked your phone and saw a message from Ethan asking if he wanted to hang out with he and Anika. You messaged him telling him you'd be able to hang out in a few hours and to just give you time to study a little longer. You gave him a time and he messaged you with a thumbs up emoji and you set your phone back on the table, gluing your eyes back onto the textbooks.

That time was supposed to be '3:00 PM' but when you looked at your phone once more, it read '9:10 PM' What the hell? How did time pass by so quickly? You quickly packed your things and left back to Ethan's dorm, knowing he'd still be awake.

You knocked on the door, Chad being the one to answer it instead of Ethan. "Hey um, is Ethan still awake?" You asked the tall figure in front of you. "Oh, yeah he's still awake. He's in his room. I think he might be a little bummed but not sure why." Chad told you and you nodded, walking into the dorm. You knocked on Ethan's door before walking inside. "Hey, Eth? You awake?" You asked as you opened his door. You saw him sitting on his bed with his phone in his hand, the Tv being the only thing that casted light.

He looked up from his phone and immediately got up after he saw you. "M/N, where were you? I thought you said we'd meet at 3?" He asked before putting his arms around you, pulling you in for a hug. "Sorry, I just got caught up in studying. I didn't expect time to pass by so quickly, honestly." He pulled away from the hug before studying your face.

"Have you been getting enough sleep?" He asked, examining the slight bags under your eyes that you hadn't realized you had. "Of course, why?" He shook his head, "Uh- no reason, just asking.." You nodded before kissing him on his lips, "Okay, well I'm gonna go get some sleep. I'll hang out with you tomorrow, okay?" You spoke, holding both his hands in yours. He nodded, "Okay, go get some sleep. I love you." He smiled at you before placing a kiss on your nose. "I love you too." You laughed before leaving the dorm, going back to yours.

A couple days had passed and your sleep schedule was getting much worse. You were hardly eating and the most sleep you got was 2-3 hours. Eyebags developed under your eyes and your friends started to become worried about you. You spent most of your day in the Library instead of with your friends. You spent some of your time crying in the library, your mental health getting worse.

Your boyfriend finally had enough of your sleepless nights and decided that if you weren't gonna let yourself sleep then he'd have to force you. He went to the library to find you since that was most likely the place you'd be at. He ran up to you when he saw you, closing your textbooks. This startled you, causing you to immediately look up, relieved to see your boyfriend. "Eth, what're you doing here? You stared the shit out of me. Also, what time is it?" You asked, checking your phone.

'11:37'

"It's time for you to get some proper rest. Pack your things and get up, we're going to my dorm." He told you, helping you put away. "Wait, what? But-" Ethan cut you off, "No but's, M/N. You haven't been getting any sleep. Also, when was the last time you ate a proper meal?" He asked you, very concerned for your mental health. It took you a second to think, "Maybe.. a week ago? I've been living off of granola bars." You told him, not realizing how much you'd been starving yourself. His eyes widened for a sec before pulling you out of your seat. "Alright, I'm gonna get you something to eat before we head back to my dorm. What do you want, hm? Mcdonald's? Pizza?"

An hour passed and you were finally back at Ethan's dorm. You finally had a full stomach instead of having a half-empty stomach throughout the week. Ethan pulled you towards his room and laid out a pair of warm clothes for you. You put them on before laying down on his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. He wrapped his around yours as well, "You aren't getting up until you've gotten more than 6 hours of sleep, okay?" You mumbled back a 'okay' before closing your eyes, falling asleep within an instant.

Sometime had passed and you were still knocked out. Ethan had been up for a little, admiring your sleeping face, slowly scratching your back. He was interrupted from his door opening. He looked up to see Chad, and before he was about to speak, Ethan softly spoke to to him, "This is the most sleep he's gotten in weeks. If you wake him up I will kill you. Literally." Chad put his hands up in defense before walking out his room, softly closing the door.

Ethan smiled before turning his attention back to you. You seemed so peaceful in your sleep. He softly kissed your head before closing his eyes, falling asleep once again.

#malereader #male!reader #male reader #ethan landry x male reader #scream x male reader #jack champion x male reader #gay #scream x reader #ethan landry x reader #jack champion x reader #ethan landry imagine

398 notes · View notes