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sarandipitywrites · 5 months

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dead darlings tag

@darkangel319 tagged me here - thank you! go read her cut here and join me in my urge to punch a king in the face

Rules: Share a part of your writing you love that got cut for the greater good. It doesn't matter if it's a line or a paragraph. It doesn't matter if you might work it back in. If it's not currently in a WIP and you want to share, please do.

so i'm having a great time editing DRDW, but not gonna lie, i miss my boys. so i'm sharing an early, early think piece on Lienzo and Baz's relationship in The Art of Empty Space. i'd still really like it to exist in the next draft in some form but, sadly, i think we're just not going in a direction where this will work as-is. so here's a whole-ass scene that's as good as cut!

some context: Baz has gone through some character changes since i wrote this - he was still fully nonspeaking at this point (in this scene he communicates with a chalk and handheld writing slate as well as sign language) whereas in the other, more recent snippets i've posted here, he only loses speech when stressed. he also was a lot more into bugs in this version, whereas now he's more into plants and magic (he still loves plants in this snippet though).

i'll stash the excerpt under the cut because long, and also because of light and fluffy human/monster romance

tags first: @notwritinganyflufftoday, @macabremoons, @oh-no-another-idea, @reliul, @winglesswriter, and anyone else who wants to share a piece of writing from the cutting room floor :)

“Hey, Baz? Teach me something.” Cicadas droned from the nearby trees and the ocean grumbled against the cliffs below. The air was thick with salt and nectar. Though Baz had yet to pour the wine they’d brought with them, Enzo’s head was already buzzing. Baz paused, mouth of the wine bottle hovering over the glass. He’d insisted on bringing this particular wine for their impromptu picnic — he’d claimed it to be required for the cheese and bread they’d brought from the palace. Enzo suspected he just wanted an excuse to drink in the sun like the overgrown iguana that he was. Setting the glass and bottle down on the thin blanket, Baz hummed and grabbed his slate. “Cicadas can lay dormant for years, waiting for favorable hatching conditions.” Enzo squinted into the trees, trying to spot one of the ugly devils. “You think these guys were around before the curse?” If he could speak their monstrous language, would they reveal the spell’s secrets? “The eggs they hatched from certainly were. The cicadas that laid them are long dead. Adult cicadas only live a few weeks.” “So, what, they wait for years for a good time to hatch, then when the planets align, they emerge, fuck, and die?” Baz snorted, the chalk in his hand snapping in two. He began to reach for a new piece before abandoning the slate in favor of sign. “More or less.” “Sounds awful.” He scooted back on the blanket, shoulder brushing against Baz’s as he resumed filling the wineglasses. Plum and chocolate wafted up from the glass, sending a shiver down Enzo’s spine. Only when the glass was sufficiently full and in Enzo’s hand did Baz respond. “To us, perhaps. But it’s all they know.” “Doesn’t mean you can’t look for something better.” “True. We’re not cicadas, after all.” “Thank the gods for that.” Baz laughed again, a quiet, breathy sound that made Enzo’s chest flutter. He raised his glass in a silent toast. Enzo couldn’t keep the grin from his face. Didn’t bother to try. “To not being cicadas.” The clink of glasses echoed across the terrace.

* * *

Baz had been right about the wine. Smooth and strong and delightfully fruity, it complemented the tangy cheese and sourdough bread perfectly. By the time they’d polished off the bottle, Enzo’s head buzzed with warmth and delicious lethargy. Enzo turned to tease the Rookport Beast for his fancy knowledge of wine pairings, but the words never quite made it out. Beside him, Baz lay supine on the blanket, one muscled arm draped over his face to shield his eyes from the late afternoon’s light. Enzo’s tongue dried and he found himself lamenting that they hadn’t brought a second bottle of wine. For someone who looked to be born of midnight, Baz seemed to be terribly fond of the sun. Each ray threw the shadows at the hollow of his throat into deep contrast and highlighted each ringlet of his crow-black hair and warmed the cool undertones of his dusky skin to summer twilight. The sun, it seemed, was equally fond of him. “…Hey, Baz?” A grunt revealed him to still be awake. “What… uh…” What would convince him to uncover his face? He cast around and plucked a small blue flower hiding in the shade of a memorial stone. “What kind of flower is this?” Baz was up in an instant, propped up on one hand as he blinked the sunlight from his eyes. For one glorious moment, however, as his eyes fought to adjust after his self-imposed darkness, his pupils shrank to pinpricks in rings of crepuscular copper. He blinked at the flower in Enzo’s hand. “That’s a columbine. It’s a wildflower — pollinators like them, especially hummingbirds”

Hummingbirds were pollinators? Gods, Baz was smart — Enzo still couldn’t get over how smart he was, couldn't understand why he let Enzo hang around him, even when they weren’t working on the curse. If he were Baz, he’d want to spend his free time casting spells and breeding mutant plants and swordfighting, not laying around with a drunk, stupid— “Hey.” Baz’s hand appeared in front of Enzo’s eyes, claws clicking together as he snapped his fingers. “Don’t talk like that. I like spending time with you.” Enzo’s face and ears heated. Thinking out loud. Worse on wine, apparently. “And I’m not any smarter than you.” Baz looked away, his cheekbones stained a deep maroon. “I just remember things. You understand them. You solve problems and people and you know what to say and you can say it, and—” The knot at his throat bobbed. “I think you’re a genius.” Enzo clamped down on his tongue before it could say, ‘Then why do you make me speechless?’ Because he wasn’t that sappy. Not even on wine. “Tell me more?” he asked instead. “About columbines. They’re just… naturally blue like that? Looks like someone pinned two flowers together, one inside the other.” Baz hesitated only a moment before he looked at Enzo again. He really couldn’t resist talking about plants, the big dork. “They… can be a lot of colors.” He took the tiny flower from Enzo’s hand and twirled it between his fingers. Though his talons grazed the flower’s petals, they didn’t tear. “In some parts of the world, they’re thought to symbolize the meeting of two souls — the inner and outer petals. They remind us to have faith in those we love.” Warm skin shifted under his. “…Enzo?” Enzo pulled away, cheek burning like he’d laid it against a stove. “Shit, sorry! Sorry, that was— I didn’t—” “Wait.” Baz chewed his bottom lip, sharp teeth sinking into plump flesh without breaking skin. Drawing Enzo’s eyes inexorably, when he needed to be focused on Baz’s hands— “Come back? Please?” He did. Slowly, carefully. Reminding himself that Baz’s desire — tolerance — for contact was just that. He’d been alone for seven years, maybe longer. He needed human contact, but not the way Enzo needed it. Baz needed it the way all people did, at some point or another, not Enzo’s sick, needy, pathetic— “Enzo?” The sign pressed against his chest, through his shirt, through his skin. Baz’s eyes were right in front of him, pupils blown wide until they nearly eclipsed his irises. Molten copper coronas in the darkness.

He swallowed. How had he gotten there? Had he straddled Baz’s hips of his own accord, or— “Teach me something?” There wasn’t much someone like Enzo could teach someone like Baz. He opened his mouth to say as much, but somehow ended up saying nothing at all. Lips pressed on sunwarmed lips. Chaste. Chapped skin dragging against his. Then again, harder and faster, lips parted, brushing against teeth. Enzo nipped at Baz’s lower lip, eliciting a growl as a big hand combed through his hair, loosening it from its tie. Claws grazed over his scalp, raising the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck. Enzo’s breath came harder and faster. “Your turn,” he breathed. Feeling Baz stiffen beneath him, he kissed him hard. “You won’t hurt me. Tougher than I look, remember?” Slowly, gently Baz returned to Enzo’s mouth, lips sliding against his. He drew Enzo’s bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled at it, tongue swiping across the worried flesh just as quickly. It felt like an apology, a hymnal, and a teasing test all in one. Chills raced across Enzo’s skin, down his spine, straight to the pit of his stomach. He moaned into Baz’s mouth and buried a hand in his hair, springy-soft coils scrunching in his grip. He ran his tongue along the rim of Baz’s lips and, when they parted, plunged in. Sharp teeth grazed against his tongue as he brushed the slick muscle in a caress that drew a sigh and a moan. Enzo’s heart stuttered and he swallowed the sound. Baz’s voice. He’d never dared to wish for it beyond the hums and grunts that made up his companion’s vocalizations, but now, with it reverberating in his chest and soul, a bassy thrum like a big cat’s purr— He wanted it. Wanted to hear it, feel it, always. For him. Only for him.

#writeblr #writeblr tag game #dead darlings tag game #original fiction #romantasy #paranormal romance #lgbt fiction #my writing #the art of empty space

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oflights · 9 months

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19, 25 and 26 for the fic asks PLS AND THANK YOUUUUU!! (oh my god computer WHY??) (I'm not changing it from all caps though)

If those don't spark joy or you've already done them, feel free to swap them out for anything you'd like!

hiii i will happily accept the caps haha, i'm always short some!!!

i'll do 19 last 🥰

25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing?

hmmm. Close Behind probably but please know that whenever i writeangst like that i am also going 'hehehehehe' like a witch at my screen when i hit post.

26. Is there something you’ve written that you would never want your family to see?

yes! all of it! tbh i had trouble letting ray read my nonfanfiction; he is the least online person in the world and that is a huge part of why i love him. and my siblings and i are not the kind of siblings who share hobbies with each other lol.

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

okay, since this conference means i'm probably not going to update the star splitter for a bit (which is good if people want to catch up!!), i'll stick a snippet from chapter 6 below the cut here. chapter 6 is, of course, my favorite chapter so far; it also has a content warning for the aftermath of parental death (narcissa) and discussion of amputation, which doesn't actually happen but it's still rather casually suggested. 😬

Draco had been suspended from time travel for six months after his mother died, a standard sentence for agents who experienced a significant loss of someone close: time sand confiscated, zero assignments, barred from even visiting Headquarters. Draco has no idea where that six-month figure had come from, as if that was enough time to truly grow around the grief, to get so used to it one could ignore the impulse to fix it when one had the means. Abrams and Chelsea seemed to understand Draco’s feelings on the matter, because an additional, non-standard sentence was imposed on him: a time cuff was placed around his wrist, unremovable except by Abrams, keeping Draco utterly anchored in the present. It looked like a watchband without a face, gold and cool and tight around his left wrist. When the Time Turner didn’t work, Father started staring at the time cuff. In between one round of gin and the next, he and Draco came to the apparently mutual decision to try to get the cuff off. They had tried melting it, cutting it, freezing it and bashing it with explosive hexes, prying it off with fireplace tongs. Nothing worked; Draco’s arm was a bloodied mess of gashes and burns and wounds, the pain somewhere far away from him, buried under drink and howling misery. It had been Draco who suggested they simply cut off his hand at the wrist, finally shocking Father into some semblance of sense. He refused; Draco said he would get Jack to do it; they argued. Father said he would do it after they had one more drink, then put enough Dreamless Sleep in Draco’s gin to down a hippogriff. Draco slept for 18 hours straight and woke up to his arm healed and Jack checking his vitals, entirely distraught. While he’d been asleep, Father had sobered up, signed over to Draco the entirety of Malfoy Manor and all of his British holdings, and departed for Switzerland.

ask me fic writer things!

#asks #phdmama #wip snip #time travel fic #fic asks #ask meme #this is a pretty grim lil flashback here #just two people insane with grief #this fic can't be ALL rescued baby harry cuteness sorry!!!#'hehehehe' - me

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bereft-of-frogs · 5 months

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✨ Fic Writing Review 2023 ✨

@aurorawest tagged me in this an age ago but there was always a chance (however slight) that I'd maaayyybe finish something else before the end of the year (I did not) so I held off. But! It's time for the 2023 review.

Words and Fics

103, 870 words posted

Technically only 1 fandom, but then like...3 subfandoms? (Star Wars: Fallen Order, Prequels/JA-era, and A New Dawn/The Last Padawan)

14 fics

1 ongoing WIP, 2 multi-chapter, 10 oneshots, and 2 chapters added onto my OC repository, 2 series

most recent drop: we are made of our longest days

longest: technically the whole of the dark ocean duology at 50,304 but also just part 2: to stand at the edge of the sea (25,752)

shortest: found a tape that was blank (1,392)

Top Fics by Kudos

closure, and the lack thereof (98)

omens and all kinds of signs (72)

with teeth, we've come this far (66)

(dark ocean duology) part 1: the deep sea is a haunted house (63)

(dark ocean duology) part 2: to stand at the edge of the sea (59)

and some love for the bottom 5 because my favorite is among them: 1. a shadow resides by night (13), 2. follow me into the endless night (16) 3. p.s.: wipe the salt off of my skin (30), 4. I feel like I'm borrowing all my time (33), 5. take in a breath, fill your lungs (34)

My fandom fic events in 2023

just the usual whumptober taking up most of my autumn

Upcoming Events and Projects for 2024

for 2024 I think I'm going to try out like a 'leapfrog' method, where I focus on finishing a first draft, then let that percolate while I work on the next first draft on the list, then backtrack for the second and so on...I think this makes sense. I liked focusing on one project at a time last year and I'm hoping that gets me to make progress on the 4-parter that I really, really want to write and keep putting off.

omens and all kinds of signs (chapter 3)

manipulation/hostage thing (?) (part 1)* - I really need a better working title for this, this is not actually describing what's going on

the haunting presence / serial (part 4)**

the haunting presence / serial (part 3)**

manipulation/hostage thing that turns into an undercover thing (part 2)* - god these working titles are just so pithy aren't they

the haunting presence / serial (part 2)**

the haunting presence / serial (part 1)**

omens and all kinds of signs (chapter 4)

We'll see where that brings us in the year....and if I get derailed haha. If I make it through this I have a sick!fic in development and a myriad other bullet points of vague ideas, inspiration lightning might strike on one of them.

Last word: I spent the first third of 2023 so convinced I would never write again and in a not-great place, to clear 100k posting on ao3 was truly a relief and sharing all of this with you all has been a joy. Thanks for being there and I hope everyone has a happy New Year!

Rules & Tags below the cut! ***(ok let's be real, you all know me, I didn't actually tag anyone because I'm a mess of social anxiety and I always feel like I'm bothering people with tags (even though I am NEVER bothered by tags, but I can't apply that to myself for some reason, in my own mind I'm just uniquely annoying, but we don't have time to unpack all that--) but anyway, I put the rules there and the summaries for the two mystery upcoming fics if you want to see those or reference the rules!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

I am too shy to tag anyone but if you're looking for an excuse to post some stats and goals use this as an open tag!

That should probably be one of my '2024 goals' to get less shy. ah well.

*This is a holdover from the 'psychological' whumptober prompt, I started it in October but knew it deserved more time and energy that I could give it on a deadline. The sort of core of the first part is my take on a 'fandom staple': the Haxion Brood finally gets the jump on the crew and they get entangled in a plot that's perhaps unnecessarily complex due to the interference of a...like 'HR consultant' Sorc Tormo hires, who attempts to manipulate them into carrying out their dirty work. Part 2 (it's a duology again folks!) picks up a bit after the end of part 1. Because to get out of the part 1 situation they end up owing someone a favor, and the calling in of that favor sends the crew on an undercover mission to a super-secret Imperial construction project. Clearly still developing some stuff, I don't have a working title or a good way of summarizing events, but I have a lot of dramatic scenes and everything pretty well outlined.

**Ah, my four part serial killer drama that I have been saying I've been saying I was going to work on for months. Years. This is going to be my year, I swear it! 'Why are you writing it in reverse order' it just makes more sense to work backwards, and part 4 I have the most clear plot outline for. Yeah it's fairly straightforward in general, a mysterious serial killer stalks Jedi through 4 generations. Possibly inspired by My Literal Nightmare, aka 'someone is secretly living in your house' (aka phrogging??? I learned there was a term for it while doing research for nanowrimo, I just thought I was being paranoid and sleep deprived during an insomniac period a few years ago lol) (it's a long story haha). But yeah this mysterious murderer who seems to not really exist at all, and vanishes like a ghost for years at a time.

#writing wrap up 2023 #thanks for tagging me! sorry I did not get over my shyness to tag anyone haha #please truly consider this an open tag if you've been waiting for one

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valeriestahl · 7 months

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5, 18, 29

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

oh, i'm sure there are tons. there were lots of fics i started, there's very little that i won't at least attempt. if i have an idea and it keeps with me enough, chances are i'll try to write it, whether or not i actually succeed at it.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

oh no, this one's impossible.

weirdly, i'm going to pick this line from one of my first reddie fics, where eddie is looking through everything richie has in his guest room.

The next shelf is jam-packed with vinyl records and cassette tapes, and then there’s a series of CDs that look dinged up around the edges. Some of the vinyl are in pristine condition, folded into perfect plastic cases. It’s mostly movie soundtracks, but they vary wildly. Richie owns some musicals - The Sound of Music stands out, looking so cracked and faded; maybe it’s the one Richie’s parents had when he was a kid, maybe fifty years old at this point. Eddie remembers that even though Richie had a CD player, he liked to use his dad’s turntable, said records just sounded better.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

i try to never say never but i have a lot of wips i started months or years ago that i'll probably never finish.

here's a couple hundred words from the kratos/freya i apparently nearly wrote 2k of.

Freya was not like Faye.

Kratos bit down on his tongue and glared at Freya. Then, as decisively as he had swung up, he rappelled down the cliffside. Freya took a step back to accommodate him hitting the ground, but her gaze stayed upon him. Kratos grunted again - on purpose, this time, because there was something enticing about watching Freya roll her eyes, her assumptions about his maturity in question - and approached the Mjolnir chest, studying the cliffs around them for any signs of the puzzle. “Not like you to forget loot, eh, brother?” Mimir said from his hip. Kratos tensed, infinitesimally. He had, admittedly, forgotten that Mimir was there. Kratos did not experience humiliation - or rather, it took more than something like this to embarrass him - but he still felt his chest tighten all the same. He did not prefer the way these grown Gods observed him. Freya’s tension, her frayed nerves, only exemplified her ability to read him, and it didn’t seem that Kratos was going to have any luck getting her off his back.

and here's a bit of harry/kim fic that i couldn't get a handle on

Kim bit his lip. “The self-flagellation is one thing. I don’t want to be caught up in whatever methods you’d like to get others involved in.” He turned his head, embarrassed, suddenly, by the thought that caught on the rim on his mouth. “Talk to Jean if you want someone to punish you, I’m sure he’d be pleased.” Harry laughed, hard and loud enough that Kim startled and sat up, cursing under his breath. “Harry,” he snapped, fumbling for the lamp and flicking the switch back on, “what are you talking about?”

and finally, a post-series mirror visitor fic that went too melodramatic but that i wrote 13k of.

Face it! she shouted to herself. She forced her eyes open and sunk into the mirror further. It ate her arm, like a wild animal. She felt her entire body starting to distort as she was absorbed by it. This was it - she could feel it truly, now. She reached in with her other hand - the stumps of her fingers and her wrist disappeared into the glazed surface. She swallowed, hard. Ophelia needed to accept all that she had done, all of the ways in which she was imperfect and undeserving. But she was not, she decided, with fierce certainty, undeserving of being the one to save Thorn.

There are people that love him, and want him back, she told herself. She repeated it in her head. Those who love Thorn and those who love me. They need us both. I must come back with him.

The mirror soaked her up like water on a sponge. She kept her eyes wide as she let the mirror eat her, and the world, miraculously, inverted as she dove inside. It was not unlike diving into a lake, except it was blazing hot inside the mirror. Her scarf wrapped protectively around her. This was dangerous, and it knew it. Her heart continued to beat hard, thudding in her chest, and then silence overcame her and she disappeared into the mirror.

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monsterkissed · 1 year

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😈✨⛔👀🤲(for this one if u just wanna repost that dio snippet i don't even mind i WILL reread it)✅

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

any time that an innocuous statement early in the fic is actually referencing something dramatic that you could only catch in a reread is precious to me. the whole "burying" conversation in itwan should count because yes it was plot-important but also yes i did know Exactly what i was doing the entire time. i wrote deliberately and with intent to harm.

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

it is above average!

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

i think i sent you the furthest i ever got with "diavolo tries to actually be honest for once in his entire life, rapidly descends into an existential hellscape" but other than that... generally i don't scrap stuff i start. if something exists long enough to make it to print then it'll probably get finished Eventually.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

i can't actually think of a wip i have not already gushed about with you specifically to excess... there is a foomes fic i rly want to write just as soon as i figure out an outline more concrete than "foomes tho" does that count??

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

every time i read them i see some turn of phrase or wording and i think "god i must have used that 7000 times by now i must look like such a hack" but i do not know if this is just the brain bees.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

i cannot remember if i have shared this bit from the doc known only as "role2wap" yet

Trish loves her father, she thinks. On good days it’s not even a difficult thing to do.

On good days he’s usually in bed until late in the morning, so she gets up and makes her breakfast alone, gets washed, dressed, and checks through the windows for unfamiliar vehicles before he gets up. If she hears this, that is a good sign. If the creaks and thumps of his bedroom floor are slow, tentative, as if he is trying to muffle the sound, then it will not be a good day. She might not even see him until early evening, if at all.

If it is a good day he will come downstairs, only taking a moment to glance around the corners to check that it is her before entering the kitchen, and sometimes even making eye contact when she says “Good morning.” If it is a very good day, he might even smile when he answers.

After breakfast and, sometimes, a stilted conversation, he will leave. Either upstairs to the office he keeps locked, or out of the house entirely, to wherever it is he goes when he has a job to do. Even he doesn’t know, sometimes, he told her once, staring at her right shoulder and tapping his ragged nails on the side of his coffee cup. He just keeps walking or driving until he gets his call from the Boss. His mouth twitched up in a little smile at the word, and she was glad that he wasn’t looking her in the face.

Her father is the Boss of Passione’s second-in-command, and he is almost unbearably proud of this. In the course of his job he has committed theft, blackmail, fraud, arson, assault in a wide variety of forms, and murder. Those are just the ones Trish knows about, the ones he will admit to in the course of conversation or the things she can intuit when she does the laundry. She has not asked about any other things he may have done because she does not want to know the answer. She has not asked if he will do these things again, if ordered to, because she already knows the answer.

So she makes him breakfast and does not ask. Sometimes he makes his own, with a little prompting and encouragement, and she does try to encourage him. She can’t avoid the laundry, though. His first attempt at that task ruined half of the clothes she had brought from home, and seeing the pretty, delicate things that her mother had bought for her stained and shrunk and tattered was a punch to the gut she had thought herself long past. He had offered to replace them, at least, but she couldn’t even begin to explain that he couldn’t replace the fact that these are the ones her mother touched and saw her in and looked after for her.

Her father is almost juvenile in his ineptitude at household chores, approaching even simple tasks with a lack of confidence and sometimes outright confusion that, combined with how unlived-in all the furniture seems, has given her some suspicions about his lifestyle prior to her introduction. There are so many things that he simply does not seem to know how to do.

One of those things is “be a father” and both of them are well aware of this. After the laundry incident Trish had retreated up to her room for the rest of the day, curled up in her bed sniffling and squeezing her hands into fists and wondering, with increasing bitterness, why he didn’t at least knock and ask if she was alright. If even that was too much to ask, in this nightmare she had been swept up into.

When, in the early hours of the morning she awoke, still in bed but no longer able to ignore her body’s increasing list of demands, she opened her door to find him sleeping in front of it. From the number of mugs and snack wrappers scattered around him he had been there for some time. When the morning came proper he was up early, explaining between yawns that he would be leaving earlier than usual, to make extra time for some work the previous day that the Boss had had to reschedule at the last minute.

“Afterwards,” he’d said, not making eye contact, “I thought that… I could take you out. Shopping.” And she had felt a little lightness in her chest, because she knew even then that her father cannot stand busy highstreets, hates being in enclosed spaces with other human beings most of all, and outside of his missions avoids it at any cost.

So she’d nodded, and his eyes even flashed to hers for an instant as he smiled (twitchy, uncertain) and began pulling on his coat.

“Good. I can’t promise a precise time, but… late afternoon, possibly.”

“That’ll be fine. Thank you. It’ll… It’ll be nice.”

He’d smiled again, making her wonder if it might not be alright after all, until he said, “The Boss suggested it. He even offered me an advance, so we can get you anything you desire. This afternoon, then?”

She’d agreed, probably, or made some neutral sound at least, something that had masked the way her thoughts had turned cold when he’d spoken. Of course he would do it, if the Boss ordered it. He’d take her shopping if the Boss said it was a good idea, perhaps even watch over her room at night when she’d been upset, if the Boss suggested that he should. He’d do anything that man told him to do.

He’d love his daughter, if the Boss told him to do it.

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mychemicalnations · 1 year

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Assigning a bunch of my characters Will Wood songs because my writing server enables my antics

This is going to be a long post, I apologize.

Not really

Blorbo Pandemic WIP

Baraphim Devorak - Misanthrapologist

You’re dangling a lantern Over the event horizon Thinking it’ll thank you For the light you’re sacrificing Bide time in orbit like a satellite Remind yourself The world don’t revolve ‘round you So don’t you revolve ‘round someone else

And, rock me Amadeus God don’t explain the way time and space made us Though with the wavelengths bending, it makes sense to me The only thing that’s meant to be is gravity And what comes up must go down

Sebastien Shadis - ¡Aikido! (Neurotic/Erotic)

Holding breath by graveyards, salt over my shoulder, I’m obsessed with you Rainbow-walking cave-heart never will be bolder, I’m obsessed with you Chickenscratch Rembrandts of your likeness, all this nonsense makes me think My insides cry “try thy finest” - why, then, am I at my brink?

Sebastien Vlastomil - ...And If I Did, You Deserved It

I want no less than the best but the best I can do Is do the worst thing first and leave the rest up to you I'm realistic Everyone's a critic If I keep beating myself up I'll keep on winning the fight And get my ass kicked I'm poisonous, not toxic I'll admit when I'm wrong but only to be right And if it fits in the song I'll rhyme that with contrived Don't meet your idols Hey, fuck you, I'm your idol But the only label that I'll sign is in the DSM5 'Cause my flaws are sorta on the pathological side Don't call me eccentric, call me mentally sick Cause I ain't sold enough tickets yet to be rich and that's the only difference

No Ethics Here (rp with @deadlier-than-i-look )

Vivienne Rose - Laplace's Angel (Hurt People? Hurt People!)

We’re only tuning to the tone of the bell curve now Ask not for whom it tolls But with my head up in the clouds, I can see so much ground And from up here you look like ants in a row It doesn’t take a killer to murder It only takes a reason to kill We’ve all got evidence of innocence, it’s "everything’s coincidence" The difference twixt fate and free will Is whether you’re singing

Silas Foster - Mr. Capgras Encounters a Secondhand Vanity: Tulpamancer's Prosopagnosia/Pareidolia (As Direct Result of Trauma to The Fusiform Gyrus)

Damn, I thought you’re not your imposter You’re so sure you’re not gonna get caught Dead in your own skin But you didn’t choose what you were born in And another man in your repertoire Ready in your head and fed upon your memoirs Still the same rules apply From the birthday to the mourning What you feel and what you do Are those things really you? And if not, then what is? (Never never never) So, my God, what’s wrong with you? And I’m still asking who that is Never, never, never Never, never, never Never, never, never No, never!

Genshin OCs

Aleks Rogov - BlackBoxWarrior - OKUltra

A bloody knife to split your infrastructure, wine to rev your motor function Coital machinations of the dead Well you mainline your animus, karate chop your abacus And learn to be an animal instead But I never did think you better than this, your modus operandi Causes Nazi/Skoptzyism and suicide Why to thine own self be true when it is you who are the problem Not the things you do but something sick inside Lithium and Dialectics, boy you really is defective CBT don’t seem effective for that Cluster B, accept it Offer up your innocence, please ignore the side effects You’ve lost your mind and almost lost your life before, so you’ll be fine

Fortune Bringer (Jiayi) - Skeleton Appreciation Day in Vestal, NY

Lumps in throats and petticoats Your baby teeth would pray for you A selfish book is always open And some of the best liars only want the truth All love starts as a scheme So, wake me up, I’m tired of sleeping They say that beauty’s just skin deep So obviously, please show me your Bones, bones, bones Let me see your bones Well, I don’t wanna know if the feeling follows home Bones, bones, bones Hell, we’re all alone If I come home, baby, will you show your bones?

Kalevi Maarinen - Love, Me Normally

If I could live in third person, well, I don’t think life would be much worse than it is In the current tense, presently, this sentence ending in question marks or dot, dot, dot Is it courageous or escapist to leave the quarantine when you’re contagious? It may just be a cold, and besides I don’t wanna get old, yeah I drank myself to death to be the afterlife of the party When the afterparty came, I was rolling in my grave

D&D/Pathfinder

Yesanith Olorona - Marsha, Thankk You for the Dialectics, but I Need You to Leave

Who makes the call? What’s a symptom, what’s a flaw, can it be both? Well I suppose that’s an answer Would you give up your humanity for just a touch of sanity? 'Cause God knows it’s not like it’s cancer And good news to the purists: they’ve discovered a cure for the symptoms of being alive It’s a painless procedure with a low rate of failure But very few patients survive And a little conformity never hurt nobody, but lately I’ve been worried that you’re losing yourself So how many milligrams of you are still left in there? 'Cause back in my day we didn’t need no feel-good pills and no psychiatrists No, we just bled out in our baths And god damn it, we liked it

Amrynn Yethana - RED MOON

Red, red moon, keep on rising The sunset soon indeed will bleed in my horizon The crescent rests, tethered to the west Waxing to the rhythm writhing in my chest That crack between the watercolor sky and sea is the Corner where you’re born in the mist I might deride the tide, 'cause I'm pulled as it pools around my feet Towards your stolen light, while I'm held in your slight gravity Well, I walk the equator, chasing the light; little do I know it orbits close behind I might remember or might assume, but I only turn around every once In a red, red moon I said I only turn around every once in a red, red, moon

Aranyth Inamaris - (Cover This Song) A Little Bit Mine

I never thought, and if I did, I forgot while blacked out in-love That’s what’s only starting would come to an end But now I’m hungover and hung out to dry, and I’m giving it time Does not knowing the truth turn my words into lies? What can I say to convince you or do to make you agree with me? I don’t need you to be with me, just try to remember what you’d see in me I’m just a little bit crazy about you Just a little bit out of my mind Just a little insane without you Please come back and be just a little bit mine Just a little bit mine

Tarron Olaric - When Somebody Needs You [Song]

So we come and we go, we know and are known There's too many people to trust Well, it seems to me what we want and we need are the same And that's someone who'll worry about us 'Til death do us part, please keep breaking my heart 'Til it ceases to beat, please be mine Well it seems that that's what it means When somebody Ohh So if love conquers all, then all else must have failed I mean, who wants to fall, can't we just take the stairs? Well it seems that that's what it means When somebody needs you It seems that that's what it means When somebody needs you

Other

Eila Saarinen - Yes, To Err is Human, So Don't Be One. (Song)

I could drink your blood if you let me, baby Hang from your rafters, patchwork and paisley I could suck you dry on the rocks with a twist But just like a vampire, I don't exist Walkie-talkie static, white noise telepath Can you read between the Morse code lines? Dead from the neck up, but living just enough To beg you, "pretty boy, please, let me die" Well, I could drink your blood if you let me, baby Drain you of your love until you hate me

If you've read this far, blame @zonnemaagd <3

#my characters #will wood #will wood and the tapeworms #|| Baraphim Devorak ||#|| Sebastien Shadis ||#||Sebastien Vlastomil ||#|| Vivienne Rose ||#|| Silas Foster ||#|| Aleks Rogov ||#|| Fortune Bringer; Jiayi ||#|| Kalevi Maarinen ||#|| Yesanith Olorona ||#|| Amrynn Yethana ||#|| Aranyth Inamaris ||#|| Tarron Olaric ||#|| Eila Saarinen ||

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becauseanders · 3 years

Text

time to shine! tagged by the wonderful and talented@that-was-anticlimactic roughly a bazillion years ago!

only rule: be as thirsty for attention as you want to be! link one of your old fics/art pieces or one that didn’t get enough attention, link a work you loved to create or share a draft from your newest WIP. or do all of these. be greedy. show your art. crave attention. be proud. and don’t forget to give your friends an excuse to show off theirs!

additional note: please consider dropping one of your favorite hidden gems by an other author along with your own work so others can enjoy it as well and so that it doesn’t stay buried any longer!

and yeah to no one's surprise i'm just gonna keep this avatar since that's just all of where i am in fic right now

okay so for being thirsty for attention on myself, allow me to draw everyone else's attention to:

The Way Out Is Through, which i'm actually really proud of the more time goes on i have away from it? it didn't do very well at all but tbh i actually think it's pretty goddamn good??

i'm just gonna link the whole Sun, Stars, Earth series but there are definitely a few in there that i felt should have gotten more love than they did (while as for the most popular one by far, i will never understand how it got that popular, lol)

I've Done It All Wrong for So Long It Feels Okay…When Every Morning After Is the Same Day is another that didn't do super well and was a bit of a challenge for me but all in all i was surprisingly pleased with how it turned out

and of course Where I Want to Be is my best longfic and i sometimes love it and wonder why it does so poorly compared to other zukka longfics and sometimes i hate it and figure it's like that for a reason but i think i'm proud of it more often than not, so

i'm not even gonna bother with my fics in other fandoms right now because of how long it's been since they last updated but if you go on my ao3 i have different pseuds you can peruse as you please

and then some of my favorites, including hidden gems!

Fragile Lives/Shattered Dreams by @khashanakalashtar deserves way more love and way, way, way, way, way more kudos, please and thank you

The Last Time You Leave by @arejour…just please read this

we all know Mark Time, and we all should, but Provide by @foyal is just as beautiful and is highly underrated

we all know I've Built My Life Around You, but We All Fall Down and You Can Be the Little Spoon are just a couple of some more god tier pieces from @tikmasjiens not enough people have read (but tbh i recommend literally their whole ao3)

This House of Mine Stands Strong by @obnoxiouslykit isn't exactly unpopular but it still does not have anywhere near the numbers it deserves; also then go read all of kit's fics just do it

Fine by anattemptatwordbending is so 💙…chronic pain sokka my beloved

We All Hurt Sometimes by Toast_bastard is also just…my heart (and more good sokka love and pain)

Deeper Than Words, you never quite say (but i hear), (wherever i am) i'll come runnin', you are the best you, and do this thing by @that-was-anticlimactic are just a few of her works you should read

a truth so loud you can't ignore by @zukkaoru is FEELINGS

signs of light by @beachytablecloth 🥺

Cover Me in Gold and Pearls by @sorryimabitanxious like did y'all know he can write as well as draw?? truly a renaissance man, go read!

eight seconds (before it all sinks in) by @ambykinns is last but not least and like seriously, it is incredible and beautiful and heartbreaking but just so comforting?? i just really love this fic and y'all should love it too (but do mind the tags)

god uhh yeah, i don't know, i know i'm missing like a trillion but…i did avoid some of the really super popular ones i read and tried to shine light on the "deserves more love than they've gotten" crowd because, yeah, these are all fucking masterpieces

i'm not gonna tag anyone else but if you already came up and wanna do this then by all means!

#fic rec #tag meme #long post

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evera6234 · 4 years

Text

Gotham’s Salty WIP: Chapter I

RATING: T (Teen for cursing and stuff, this may change)

SUMMARY:

Basically, the typical Daminette with a bit of lime and spice. Borderline crack fic bc i cant without humor.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng goes to Gotham whilst carrying three years worth of emotional baggage, what she does with it, we don't know. Does she lug it around? Probably. Does she kick it off a skyscraper? Not probable, but maybe. Does she use it to drop kick an unsuspecting liar. Most definitely. ~~~> EDITED BY OLLIETHETURTLE ON AO3

Transferred from AO3.

Lemme know if ya wanna be tagged

OK. Umm.. First fic on AO3. K. We doin this, and we starting with this god awful piece of trash. Yes. Life. Fuck.

Things ur signing up for:

Big boi Mari & Chloe Friendship Good Vibes TM

My ass shitting on Adrien bc im a salty bitch (and if u aint about that life, its ok. U can leave bc im not interested in fighting with people. No offence or disrespect to adrien stans but yea)

And Adrien stalker moments

Lila and Alya salt (plz see “im a salty bitch”)

Shitty update schedule, if any. I’m counting on yall to harass me to write.

Marinette & Jason “sibling-esque” relationship bc we all need that

An obscene amount of cursing (as you can already tell)

The class will not be “Our singular communal brain-cell is fucking dead, help.” levels of dumb, but still “I have the IQ of a wet potato sack” levels of dumb.

Eventual negation of canon bc we live that life

“Espresso with a dash of Depresso” Moments TM

I'm originally an MLB fan. So do what you will with that info.

The good old “Ozmav AU” but with some lime and spice

As slow burn as I can

Mental Health stuff and the repercussions of having multiple identities treated completely differently

And the crown jewel of this entire fic… Auntie Harley and Ivy.

And….. sorry…. Ppl will kinda be OOC but im trying my very best.

Tbh I have no idea where this going rn but... i mean… it going somewhere (specifically hell) because everything does. Leave ideas plz, don’t kill me. Just bully me.

So yea. Lemme know what u want and if I want to, I might just squeeze it into the fic (if it fit ofc, im not just gonna add random 50 year time-lapses). I'll try my best ;)))) (<-- my quadruple chin)

Chloe’s head hangs heavy on Mari’s shoulder as the pressurised air surrounding them vibrates with the sounds… of well… a plane. Chloe had a tough couple weeks; late night combat practises with the new team (LB, Hornet, Viperion and Ryuuko) has obviously taken a toll on her partner. Both wrapped in a thick velvet blanket that Chloe remembered to pack (thank kwami) sharing a pair of headphones, both were lulled into a peaceful slumber.

Alya laughs as Lila tips her small glass of diet coke (that a flight attendant painstakingly poured for her) on a sleeping Marinette’s side of Chloe’s blanket, effectively waking her up. “Oopsies! Sorry Marinette! You see, the cabin air has really been worsening my arthritis. I didn’t mean it! I swear! Cross my heart!” apologized Lila with fake concern as Alya giggles beside her.

Marinette, literally seeing Lila’s crossed figures behind her back says “At least Chloe is still sleeping, she needs the rest.” Alya, Lila and her empty cup saunter beck to their seats nearby.

Mari and her class finally land in Gotham’s cold December night. Freshly hushed into a private shuttle, the class are driven to their hotel. It is late: around 3:30 AM. With heavy eyelids the class gazed out the bus’s windows in awe. The merging view of traffic and Christmas lights chase them to their residence. No one really remembers or knows what happened that night. Just the feeling of falling, be it into a white fluffy hotel comforter or into the crisp Gotham air.

“Oh! My! Gosh!!!” hears Marinette as Lila on the bus to Wayne Enterprise. “I feel so. At. Home!” In Marinette’s tired ears, there were more exclamation marks.

“Of course… The only thing that can inhabit Gotham alleyways are cockroaches and villains,” Chloe grumbles beneath her breath, looking out the window.

“What have I ever done to you Chloe?” Lila cries, “I understand why Marinette bullies me, she is a jealous and vile girl. But I thought you, Chloe, want to be a better person, not a bully like that bitch, Marinette!”

“How dare you. How dare you. HOW DARE YOU!” Chloe yells as the recent words loop in her mind,

“Not gonna call your daddy, huh?” Alya taunts.

Chloe, with tears in her eyes begins, but is quickly interrupted by Marinette, “No she will not. She doesn’t need to. Chloe grew a lot over the last couple months, I’m so proud of her. She doesn’t need your bitch-ass approval.” Marinette grasps Chloe’s hand which previously wrapped itself around the fabric of Chloe’s heavy caramel winter coat.

“Quiet on the bus!”, A yell came from the front.

“But, Mr. Bus Driver… Marinette is being a…”

“Shut it! Y’all want me to kamikaze this shit into a building? I’m guessing y’all value your lives so shut it!”

“Ms.Guardian, can I please have a cookie?” Pollen softly asks from the inside of Chloe’s giant white faux leather handbag.

“Shh… Pollen! Now’s not the time!!!” stresses Tikki.

“Please Ms. Guardian!!! I’m so so so hungry. This bag isn’t very warm and it’s taking all my energy to keep warm. A lil blubber wouldn’t hurt…. please!!”.

“Of course Pollen,” quietly respond Mari with a grin, “Here you go.” She pulls out a couple cookies from a Tupperware and hands them to Pollen. “Please share them with Tikki,” whispers Marinette into the bag.

Marinette and Chloe then hears two tiny “thank you”s followed by the sound that can only be described increasingly aggressive chomping. Both girls giggle quietly.

“Welcome to Gotham,” says an unenthusiastic man at the front desk. “Congratulations, you are…” He checks his computer. “On time? Interesting.”

“Yes, we are aware,” grumbles Mrs. Bustier, already done with the man’s attitude.

“Okay so before the tour starts I’m doing to need the student who set-up this field trip to sign a couple forms and stuff. Here ya go.” The man pushed a thicc pile of paper into the teachers hand.

“Oooh! That would be me sir!” Lila chirped, intercepting the papers before skipping back to her posse of her’s. A few seconds after beginning to fill out paperwork Lila cries “Ouch! My wrist! My arthritis! Can someone help me filling out all these form.”

“I’ll fill them out, I’m only going to need your signatures,” offered Max.

“Thank you Max, you are so sweet!” Lila complements.

“Of course, your arthritis was badly affected by the altitude yesterday, you shouldn’t be staining your wrist so early!” Max blushed.

“Maribug, you gonna to say something?”

“Nah, just watch. Entertainment without a Netflix membership.”

#dcu x mlb #dc x miraculous #daminette #maribat #marinette deserves better #chloe redemption #ozmav #ml salt #adrien salt #alya salt #lila salt #chloe sugar #we love chloe in this house #aunty harley and ivy of ya'll stick around #cross-posted on ao3 #miraculous salt

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blurglesmurfklaine · 3 years

Text

Death Cannot Stop True Love

Summary: After being kidnapped from his kidnapper by the Dread Pirate Roberts, Blaine reminisces on the poor farmboy who once held his heart.

The Princess Bride AU, one shot, 1.7k words

A/N: did i work on ANY of my wips this weekend? no <3

BUT DID I WATCH THE PRINCESS BRIDE TWICE AND THEN SUBSEQUENTLY WRITE THIS? YOu BET YOUR ASS I DID

I've never really written anything like this??? But I surprisingly had a lot of fun with it, so let me know what you think! :D

Read on Ao3

***

Blaine’s hands land a bit too roughly against the grey granite for his taste, rather put off by the masked stanger’s manhandling.

He supposes being kidnapped by Willaim Schuester, then having the Dread Pirate Roberts kidnap him from his kidnapper wasn’t quite the delightful way he’d expected to end his evening ride, either.

“Rest, your Highness,” the man in black commands, the strands of tattered fabric that secure his mask tied behind his head billowing in the wind. Blaine refuses to shiver at the cool air of the highland whipping across his face, not wanting to show this man any signs of weakness. “You’re going to need it.”

“You’re the one who’s going to need rest,” Blaine spits, turning to face the man and take a proper seat on the stone. “My betrothed will come for me. Prince Smythe is an excellent tracker. He could track a falcon on a cloudy day, and he and his infantry will have me back in the castle and you in shackles by dusk.”

He should not make such bold claims at a time like this, and certainly not to someone as deadly as the Dread Pirate Roberts. Well, Blaine is only mostly sure he’s speaking to the infamous Pirate known for his murderous voyages on his ship, “Revenge”, but he’s certain enough.

“Ah, yes,” the man says bitterly back, fingers drumming ansty along the handle of his sheathed sword. “Prince Smythe. You have much faith in your most beloved, don’t you?”

Having his daily outing interrupted by that faux-philosopher Schuester from earlier and his two henchmen was unpleasant enough, but of all the things he’s heard come out of someone’s mouth this was the foulest. The law of the land gives Smythe the right to choose his spouse, and he chose Blaine. Despite this, Blaine knows he could never love Sebastian back. Now when he’s really known and lost his true love.

“I never said he was my most beloved,” Blaine snarls.

No. That title belongs to a name too precious to be uttered in front of the likes of a cheating, stealing, slaying pirate.

It’s been five long and lonely years since his dearest Kurt left him to venture out to sea, but Blaine can still feel Kurt’s hand in his sometimes, can still feel the residual warmth, as if it were yesterday. When he closes his eyes, it’s Kurt’s beautiful blue ones that are waiting for him when he falls asleep. Every round that his heart beats, it beats for the long dead Kurt Hummel.

Kurt had been Blaine’s family’s farm boy, and Blaine, in his infantile arrogance, loved nothing more than to boss him around. Whether it was “Farmboy, shine my saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning,” or “Farmboy, take these jugs down by the river to wash,” Kurt always responded with the same simple sentence that sent Blaine’s heart aflutter.

“As you wish.”

Blaine didn’t understand it at first—how could he, when he’d never been in love—the quickening of his pulse when he was near Kurt, how his knees seemed to careen and fail when hazel met piercing blue.

He didn’t understand why, when he’d asked Kurt to clean the stables, Kurt had looked at him with electricity in his eyes like a thunderstorm, and Blaine felt compelled to add a meek, “Please?” to the end of his request. He didn’t understand why when Kurt so softly answered him with those three little words— “As you wish” —Blaine would light like a lantern from the inside out.

He didn’t understand why he asked Kurt to fetch him a pitcher hanging right by his own head, just so he could be graced with having him in such close proximity, chest to chest.

“As you wish,” Kurt had said, and Blaine didn’t understand the magnetic force drawing them closer and closer.

And then Kurt’s lips were on his, and oh, how Blaine finally understood. He understood why wars were waged over Helen of Troy, and why lutists serenaded the public with foolish tunes of love that were actually the least foolish things in their nature.

He understood that every time Kurt said, “As you wish,” what he truly was saying was “I love you.”

He understood so clearly, and everything that wasn’t Kurt was reduced to complete and utter nonsense.

For a short year, they lived on borrowed time. Kurt’s family wasn’t from money, so he left the farm—and with it, Blaine—to seek wealth enough to ask for Blaine’s hand in marriage. It wasn’t long until the news came back to him that Kurt had encountered the Dread Pirate Roberts on the high seas.

There are three things Blaine knows to be true. Kurt Hummel was his one true love, death takes everyone and does not discriminate, and the Dread Pirate Roberts never takes prisoners.

Kurt never returned to him after that.

“No, I suppose he’s not your one true love,” the Dread Pirate responds, unimpressed. “I wonder whether a royal-to-be like yourself has ever truly loved.”

“I’ve loved and been loved deeper than you will ever know!” Blaine counters. “He was stolen from me, his blood on your sword. I know who you are. You’re the Dread Pirate Roberts, admit it.”

The Dread Pirate gives a little flourish, his night black outfit a stark contrast to the verdant grass of the highlands. “With pride.”

“You killed my love.”

“Quite possible. I’ve killed many of noble blood aboard my ship.”

“You know nothing,” Blaine says. “He was poor. Poor and perfect and with eyes like the sea after a storm. I received notice that he’d crossed your path on the high seas, and as we all know, you never take prisoners.”

Roberts shrugs, displaying such upsetting nonchalance at Kurt’s demise. “Can’t afford to make any exceptions. Once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it's nothing but work, work, work, all the time.”

Being held hostage by Schuester while the Dread Pirate fought off Michael Chang, one of the best swordsman ever to walk the earth, was nerve wracking. Hearing how he then proceeded to physically conquer who is probably the tallest man Blaine has ever seen, and then listening as he sat blindfolded to this man outwit William into drinking from a poisoned cup was a hellish enough adventure on its own, but it was not as dreadful as hearing his anguish ridiculed by this stranger.

“You mock my pain!”

“Life is pain, Highness.” The pirate gives Blaine a look that he would consider hurt, if he did not hate him so. “Anyone who says different is selling something… I think I remember this farmboy of yours. This would be about what, five years ago?”

Five years, three months, and sixteen days, Blaine refuses to say. His silence doesn’t deter Roberts from continuing.

“He died well, if it pleases you to hear that much.”

“With all due respect—which is little to none—nothing you can say will please me. Likewise, nothing you can say will harm me.”

“He made no attempts at either bribery or blubbering. He simply said Please. I need to live. It was the please that caught my attention. I need to live for him.” The pirate’s eyes grow misty and distant and so painfully reminiscent of his love’s that Blaine is forced to look away for a moment. “He spoke of a boy so lovely, and of enduring faithfulness. Sad to see he died for nothing. Tell me, Highness, when you heard news of his death, did you immediately become engaged, or did you wait a week out of respect for the dead?”

“Had I a choice in this matter I would join him among the realm of the dead!” Blaine yells back, surprised to see a bit of shock in the thief’s eyes. “You mocked my pain once, do not do it again. I died that day!”

The unmistakable sound of hooves pounding into the ground of the hillside opposite them causes Blaine to sigh in relief. He never thought he would be so elated to see his fiance. Still... elated may be too strong of a word.

The Dread Pirate turns to scout the incoming commotion, and Blaine acts before he has time to second guess himself.

“And you can die, too, for all I care,” he grits out, and shoves hard on the Dread Pirate’s back, sending the murderer tumbling down the hillside.

Blaine’s expecting to hear shouts of terror coming from the pirate, but what he hears next makes his stomach pool with dread.

“Aaaaaas yoooouuuuu wiiiiiiish!” echoes through the hillside, coming from the Dread Pirate Roberts and Blaine’s jaw drops.

“Kurt,” he gasps. “Oh God, what have I done?”

“Over there!” he hears Sebastian’s familiar and grating voice call out from just beyond the hillside. One glance behind his shoulder and Blaine knows they will come for him, and when they do, he will never see Kurt again.

So he jumps forward and follows Kurt rolling down along the slope of the hill.

Small rocks and flowers swirl past him in a blur, dirt kicked up every time his boots collide with the ground, and after falling for what feels like ages, his body finally comes to a halt, right next to Kurt’s warm one.

Blaine shifts to see Kurt better, body bruised from the fall, but soul absolutely jubilant.

Kurt scrambles over to him, black mask having been knocked off in the tumble. “Are you alright? Can you stand?”

Blaine laughs and reaches out to grab Kurt’s— Kurt’s —hand on top of his chest. as if to keep them physically tethered this time. “Stand? You’re alive. If you want, I could fly.” He buries his head deep into Kurt’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of him mixed with the grass and the dirt and the absolute joy of him being alive.

Kurt holds him back just as tight. “I told you I’d always come for you.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“My sweet Blaine,” Kurt murmurs, hand warm against Blaine’s cheek. “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.”

Blaine barely has time to smile before Kurt’s lips are on his again, back in their rightful place.

#klaine #glee #wow look at me im writing!#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #kurt hummel #blaine anderson

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bangtanlalaland · 4 years

Text

more than enough | knj (m.)

synopsis ⇣ your unfortunate divorce has left you questioning life and your entire existence. that is, until, your counselor demonstrates just how much you’re worth.

— marriage counselor!au

⇢pairing: marriage counselor!kim namjoon x divorcee!female reader

⇢genre: angst, smut, pwp

⇢word count: 5.4k

⇢contents ⨯ warnings: someone plz stop me from writing these porn-filled, no plot having fics, i think i need help, dom joon makes an appearance (who doesn’t love this man? uwu), lots of filthy filthiness, swearing, oral sex (f + m receiving), drunk bathroom oral sex actually (oops), did i mention jungkook makes an appearance? (he’s that blonde babe from the bathroom scene) 😏, masturbation, unprotected sex (always stay safe!), rough sex, breathplay, dumbification, hair-pulling, spanking, slapping, choking, creampie, impreg kink (ugh my fave), over-stimulation, voyeurism (oof), multiple orgasms, name-calling (being called a slut), jungkook’s tongue is magical, namjoon’s dick is huge (don’t @ me), premature ejaculation (oops)

a/n: I’ve had this also in my wips for awhile 💜 including like 10+ wips with joon because he’s my bby & I love him so much ugh!

Your fingertips awkwardly fiddle with themselves, a slight tension in your shoulders that you’re sure is visible. With legs crossed, you take a deep breath and contemplate your next guilty pleasure meal of the day. Everything around you seems black and white; since your divorce, you’d become null and void — not understanding why life itself got you to this point. You’d often question your purpose in life.

Why me? What did I do wrong? Am I not enough?

But here you are, reminiscing when everything seemed smooth, lovely, and peaceful. When things weren’t always about arguing over finances, hectic work schedules, a decrease in the amount of quality time spent together, or most importantly: pleading for just the smallest ounce of attention.

The sudden sound of your counselor’s throat clearing startles you, “Mrs. ____?” His notepad and pen in hand, his eyebrows raising up at you, slightly. Not having realized you’d zoned out, your fingers stop moving on their own accord. Your back straightens up just a tad more.

“Sorry, I-”

He cracks a smile, his hand raising up in reply, “Don’t be. Take your time,” You take a deep breath, and silently woosah yourself. Some part of you is curious as to why people like your counselor work these kinds of jobs. You couldn’t imagine having a career where you’re required to keen in on people’s problems everyday and offer advice, when you have problems of your own and can’t get your shit together.

Ugh, life.

“I’m hanging in there. I guess?” He cocks his head to the side, eyeing your expression.

“Can you tell me one good thing that happened to you this week?” You take a deep breath, followed by a coy smirk.

It had been a long time since you stepped out and especially in risqué attire. Your roudy friend and co-worker, Candice, insisted that you needed to spend the night out to celebrate your now freedom — post divorce. A slight sentiment of anxiety takes a toll on you, that is until she orders you both a couple shots of tequila to rile you up.

“Here’s to being young, wild, and free baby!” She exclaims, clinking her glass against yours. The both of you tilt your heads back, inducing more alcohol — hissing due to the slight burn in the back of your throat. Candice taps your shoulder, and hell were you feeling the aftermath of the liquor. You’re all giggles and feeling loopy.

Next thing you know, you’re locking lips with a cutie in the bathroom. Teeth and tongues clashing against each other, the thrill of getting it on with someone you don’t know was exhilarating — courtesy of the liquor in your system. Your mind hadn’t registered the lingering aroma of his cologne, until he pressed you up against the wall and stooped down on his knees, reaching under your dress to pull your panties to the side. Your lady lips revealed to him, and it’s as if he’s as horny as you are in this moment, if not more. The blonde-haired babe glares up at you with those pouty lips and dives head first. His nose brushes up against your clit as he licks a long strip along your folds, stopping to circling his tongue around the bud. His lips encase around your clit, and his muffled moans vibrate against your core, making you throb relentlessly with much arousal. He lifts your leg up and over his shoulder, while your back rests against the wall — an attempt to keep some leverage while having him in between your legs like this.

“Mmmm,” was all you could hear from him as he licks up and down your pussy lips, coating them with his saliva.

Your mind couldn’t even process the last time you’d been eaten out like this; uncontrollable moans slipping out of you, and it feels oh so damn good. Your hips grind against his tongue, helping to bring on your orgasm at a much quicker pace. His soft fingers grip your thighs to keep you in place. He pulls away with a pop and stares at you with those gorgeous, doe-like eyes. Your chest rises up and down, panting to gain your breath back. His fingers find purchase on your lips, and with a light tap you open up sucking them in your mouth. A low groan slips from him, you bob your head back and forth making sure to coat his digits and suddenly he pulls away. With furrowed brows, you hadn’t even processed that his fingers rammed into your pussy, your walls now warm and wet, inviting them in. Your fingers grasp onto his hair, pulling and tugging once his thumb swipes your clit intently. You’re so close and just need a slight push.

“Damn babe, how can you be this wet?” He giggles in your ear. You can smell whatever it is he doused himself in from the bar. You can’t quite pinpoint what exactly, but it is there.

“Just fuck me already, please” You plead with his fingers still inside you, he rubs your clit just right and repeatedly thrusts his fingers in and out. The obvious squelching sound of your pussy can be heard, and you pray to God nobody else suddenly walks in. You guys did lock the door right?

Shit.

And then he stops, removing his digits from you. You frown instantly.

“Need you in my mouth,” He adds, returning to his previous position from before, His lips wrap around your folds, sucking and tugging them with hunger. Like he’s having the most delicious meal in his last day on Earth. He continues to make obscene sounds with his slurping noises, his fingers press and rub onto your clit in a rapid motion. Your thighs give out, and it’s a clear indication to you that you’re going to cum. Has it really been this long? Have you really forgotten what it’s like to have an orgasm? That feeling deep within where the bottom of your tummy and core meet, feels tight as a knot. He lashes his tongue out to glide along your folds and sticks himself inside of you, tongue fucking you while rubbing your clit.

“I’m going to cum!” You cry with a labored breath. He uses your cry as a sign to lift your leg over his shoulder while he grips your waist, his hands land on your ass — gripping your cheeks firmly. His tongue lands flat to paint his saliva all over your cunt, his hands aid in gliding his tongue up and down your pussy at a rapid pace. He shakes his head back and forth, his tongue brushing across your throbbing, aching clit as a result. He continues at his relentless pace and suddenly that feeling inside snaps.

“Fuck!” Your thighs tremble violently and your core contracts continuously. Your back arches off the wall, but the stranger doesn’t stop his motions, his tongue continues on its own accord, not letting up. You even feel his fingernails digging into your cheeks slightly. Your fingers grasp onto his strands, tugging with an necessary amount of force — mimicking his motions. His low moans suddenly drawing out more than you expected, adding an extra touch to your orgasm, — your clit feeling used having been stimulated for a moment too long. The trembling of your body subsides, your legs attempting to hold on for a little longer as you fight to push him from you.

“O-okay. Okay, that’s- E-enough. Fuck!” To your luck he pulls off with a swipe of his hand across his mouth, panting and out of breath. You assume that’s the only reason he gave up, until you notice he continues to moan, his face contorted into an expression you suppose is from a feeling of ecstasy. And then his gaze drops down to his clothed crotch; his wide eyes roam upwards to your form, with lips parted. Your trembling figure gradually regaining composure.

“Oops,” He slips, letting out a contagious laugh. You follow where his gaze was before and shake your head.

“I-it’s okay, I understand.” His eyes crinkle up in a crescent-moon shape, and you somehow notice the rosy tint of his cheeks, streaming to his ears. Poor thing. He’s probably embarrassed.

Your counselor listens with open ears, taking in everything you’re describing to him, while jotting down what you think are a few notes. But to your unknown avail, he has written:

Client lacks in sex life, due to divorce Stranger gives oral sex; client reaches orgasm

Namjoon clears his throat before proceeding, “And what is it that makes this-” He pauses to gather the correct words, attempting to wash away the imagination of you spreading your legs out, pussy on display, on his leather sofa.

“Experience a good one for you? Is it the thrill from having an orgasm? Maybe the act of having a stranger perform oral sex on you? Or is it because he orgasmed in his pants by performing oral sex on you?”

You contemplate for a moment, thinking deeply about his speculation. You admit it; he’s great at his job. Well, at least better than you would probably be in his line of work. With legs still crossed, you playfully dangle your ankle up and down, your leg now having fallen asleep but you’re somewhat in an awkward state — speaking to a male about your recent sexcapade.

It’s times like these that you wished you were referred a female counselor. And it doesn’t help with how attractive Mr. Kim is, which is definitely a deal breaker for you. You take in his lavender streaks that paint the strands of his hair, paired with highlights of platinum blonde.

Although, you can’t help but ponder what he thinks of all this? Seeing it as you’re a divorced woman, having developed a dry spell, and can’t seem to even orgasm from her previous husband — the person you’d committed your life to, to what you assumed would have been able to please you in the bedroom but unfortunately he failed. It’s embarrassing, to say the least.

Mr. Kim had been there through it all, the good and bad, the ups and downs, twists and turns. It wasn’t that he failed his job, no. He was perfect at it; but, your marriage simply failed. You wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Kim confessed that he knew what the outcome would be, because it was that obvious. But your ex-husband had to hire a professional simply because he was too prideful to admit his wrongdoings and actually “man up” to fix his problems.

Part of you hated that you’d stuck around after the divorce, and you’re surprised Mr. Kim hadn’t suggested you no longer needed of his services. But, you suppose he was just being kind, offering the best of his services — while another part of you assumed he understood that you do need someone to vent to. Being as that, doing so helps to ease the mind. You’re sure he’s aware that everyone needs to talk to someone, even if it’s a stranger.

Except in this case, Mr. Kim isn’t a stranger — quite the opposite actually and some part of you felt vulnerable to him. The fact he knew your story; any personal thing you could think of that’s ever happened to you — you had spilled it all to him. You contemplate: Who does he confide in, despite his career being that he helps those in desperate times of need? Does he ever vent to anyone? And if so, does it help him to stay sane?

You shake your head at the thought of it all, wanting to piece the entire process altogether. You’d almost forgotten he was still here in this very room with you, awaiting a response to slip. And damn, is he patient. You curse yourself for having zoned out that much, and with a clearing of his throat you are gracefully brought back to reality. The atmosphere suddenly parching your form, an odd sensation of heat pooling over you — paired with a sheen of cold sweat approaching.

He stares into your gaze, as if studying you for a moment.

“Mrs. ____?” His eyes still glued onto you, searching for any sign that you will open your mouth for once. But, you can’t seem to say anything else but one word.

“Control.” His eyebrows flick in response and he slowly nods — having scribbled something into his notes:

Control?

“Control?” He questions, giving you the spotlight to elaborate on whatever it is you’re implying. Your foot stops dangling, having now closed both of your legs entirely, squeezing them together. The visual of that stranger’s mouth lapping at your cunt flashes through your mind.

You take a deep breath, “Yes, control.” Namjoon’s eyebrows quirk upward, as if signaling for you to continue already.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” You blurt out while grabbing your belongings, in a hurry to leave. Namjoon seethes. He’d endured months, perhaps a year of therapy with you. He refused to let you walk out without being satisfied. And he knows exactly what you need. He had the date written down, when you came to him for one of your sessions and confessed how long it had been since you had sex. It’s a memory he’d never forget, because although he’s a licensed counselor and shouldn’t personally involve himself with his clients — with you it was different. He despised the way your ex-husband treated you. It was wrong, and he couldn’t take the pain of seeing you stressed beyond your limits.

“ ____,” His deep voice now dipped in a stern tone, one you’d never heard before, and he never calls you by your first name. Like ever. With your back turned, you can feel his presence directly behind you. So close, you could practically drown in the warmth radiating from his body. He reaches past you, his fingers finding placement over the lock of the door.

“Sit down,” he commands. You shudder under his rigid voice, finding yourself to obey as he instructs, somewhat afraid of what he’d do if you didn’t comply. His towering figure follows back to his seat prior to your attempt of departing. His legs now spread wide and back slightly slumped in his chair. Your shoulders naturally tense themselves, a result of the heat wave washing over you.

Namjoon glares at you with an unreadable expression, as if he’s peering into your soul, a sudden churn resides in your tummy. You absentmindedly pull your dress down just a tad, the material now clinging to your skin due to the sweat that built up under Namjoon’s gaze.

He strokes his chin, and you thank the Heavens for that sight because it definitely gets you going. His slender fingers grazing amongst his skin, veins popping while doing so. You can only imagine what they would feel like inside your-

“Off the record, I know what you want.” He blurts out, stilling his motions. You question him with a rise of your eyebrows. The coy smirk that appears on his lips has you boiling on the inside, your thighs rubbing together pathetically — to ease the ache within your core. What the hell is this man doing to you?

“Should it be too much for you, the safe word is velvet.”

He removes his glass and places them down on the coffee table separating you both. He proceeds to make his way toward you, eyeing you down as if you’re his prey. He unbuckles his belt and slips, “You’ll do as I say when I say it and not give any back talk. Understand?” Your mouth flies agape at his sudden change in demeanor — only adding fire to the fuel in your heat.

He tilts your chin up with his finger, “Don’t make me ask you twice.”

“Yes- Yes, Namjoon.” He slaps your face, at first in a gentle manner, your kitty throbs in response at the sudden action.

“It’s Sir to you.” You nod in reply, “Yes, S-sir.”

Namjoon sits in his favorite spot, unbuttoning his slacks. His hands snake behind the garment, running along his shaft under his briefs.

“Open your legs and play with yourself,” He demands. Before your brain could process what he requested, your body moved instead. You pry open your legs and Namjoon is instantly met with your aching cunt.

“You little slut,” He mulls with a followed growl, his cock twitching under his grip. “You came all the way here with no fucking panties?”

You nod at his question, bringing your fingers to your wet folds.

“So fucking filthy.” Namjoon pumps himself at the sight of you grazing along your clit. “I should fuck you until you can’t think anymore.”

“Please,” you whine, grinding your hips. You lick the pads of your fingers and rub your clit instinctively, a moan falling from your lips.

“Is that what you want?” He coos, precum seeping from the slit on the head of his cock. “You want me to fuck you silly? Make you cream all over my cock like the good, little bitch you are?”

Wanton moans now become uncontrollable for you, and you lose yourself in Namjoon’s sexy voice laced with lust, “Yes, Sir. P-please, fuck me. I need your cock.”

A low rumble emits from his chest, he runs his fingers through his strands that were glued to his forehead. He pushes his trousers and briefs down to his knees.

“Come here. Now.” He motions with his index finger, and you find yourself at his beck and call. Namjoon slides himself down further in his seat and gestures you over him.

“Sit on my face,” You do exactly as he says and hover over his face. He doesn’t hesitate to grip your hips and lodge his tongue inside of your hot heat. His nose nuzzles your clit in the process, soaking in the fragrance of your womanhood. He graciously fucks your hole with his tongue, then slithers along your inner folds. He sucks and tugs onto them between his plump lips, groaning into your cunt. You naturally grind your hips, following his motions.

“Oh, fuck.” You slip, while grazing your fingers within his strands. Namjoon’s fingers dig deeper onto your hips. He lays his tongue flat down to glide against your clit, your folds having been coated in his saliva. He peers up at you with those wide, sexy eyes, and the sudden shock of his palm smacking your ass jolts you forward — your grip landing on the leather seat. His moans continue to reverberate within your core, emitting a cry of euphoria from you. He wraps his plush lips around your nub and sucks feverishly. His nails graze along the flesh of your ass cheeks and…

Smack.

“Mmmm, Sir!” He shakes his head back and forth, and sucks your clit again — sending you into your second orgasm in the past week. Your thighs tremble and back arches slightly, your nails claw the leather of the seat and your hips grind along his tongue — an attempt to ride out your high. Namjoon lands another harsh smack onto your bottom, and you scream maybe just a little too loud for your liking, yet it’s music to his ears.

But, he doesn’t stop.

He continues his ministrations, and just as you try to break away from his steady pace, he constrains your hips with his large hands, locking you in place. He doesn’t let up on your now sensitive clit, and instead continues to slide his tongue all around and onto your bud. You shake your head in reply, the stimulation being too much but somehow there’s this burning ache that re-approaches, and you know there’s yet another orgasm approaching.

You push his head away, desperately wanting him to get his mouth off your aching pussy.

“P-please, Please.” You plead. But he grips onto you harder and shakes his head in a “no” gesture, his tongue gliding along your clit while doing so. His lips encase around your nub again and eagerly sucks the life out of you. Your legs shiver.

Namjoon mumbles within you, “Cum on my face, again.” His hand slaps your ass cheek again and again, sending you into your second orgasm that seems more powerful than the first. Your entire body convulses, eyes roll back, and you let out a screeching cry. He gently rubs the area he’d smacked before, and peels his mouth from you finally. He slaps your cheek again and demands, “On the couch. Now.”

You’re barely able to recover from your orgasm, and with shaky legs you set on your two feet to make your way over to the leather sofa. Joon follows behind and drops his trousers and briefs down to his ankles, kicking the garments to the side. Your met with the sight of his length, and you audibly gasp. He’s so thick, and your kitty clenches just by looking at him. His dick springs up, and you note the precum now dripping from his slit and down into a thin line.

“Come here,” He says while pushing your head onto his length. He stuffs his cock into your mouth, fucking your throat relentlessly. You grab onto his thick, juicy thighs to keep some leverage. The lewd noises of your throat being fucked can be heard through the office space. Namjoon’s breath hitches at the view of you stuffed with him entirely, his dick literally choking the life out of you. He lets out a grimacing chuckle, “Finally you can keep your mouth shut, huh? Let someone else take control, hm?” He bucks his hips forward, the veins in his arm protruding as his grip on your hair tightens, thrusting himself back and forth into your mouth.

His head falls back in ecstasy. Your nails graze along his bare thighs, begging for a release of air. And you assume that inspires him to torture you even more because before you could process what’s happening. He pinches your nose shut, to keep you from breathing, and holds himself at the back of your throat. You pound his thighs as a result.

“Look at me.” He commands, and with tears streaming down your cheeks, your gaze follows up to his hooded lids as you eagerly pound your fists onto his thighs and scratch the flesh. You’re convinced you are on the verge of passing out until he lets out the sexiest moan you’d ever heard in your life and that’s when his thighs tense up in your touch, his lower abdomen contracts, and bursts of warm cum shoot down your throat. You shut your eyes to focus on not passing out, but somehow with his added jizz, it doesn’t help. You continue to smack his thighs to signal you’re on your way to Heaven if he doesn’t let up. You feel his cock gradually easing out, and then he says…

“Fucking swallow.”

And so you do, managing to swallow every drop of him and finally he releases his throbbing member from your mouth. As soon as you are let free to breathe in some kind of air, you suck in a huge breath — followed by some coughs to gain your breathing back, and then an odd sensation within your head subsides. Once again, you can’t recover. Namjoon pulls you by your hair and shoves you toward the leather sofa.

“Bend down.” And you do exactly as you’re told, obeying him as if you’re a puppy and he’s your owner. Namjoon pumps himself and slaps your ass once you bend completely over, arching your back to push your bottom out more profoundly.

“Such a good slut.” He slaps your ass and you whimper at his harsh demeanor. Somehow you manage to wiggle your goods at him, wanting to know what that monster between his legs feel like, and your craving doesn’t go unnoticed. Namjoon tugs your hair, making you arch your back whilst he forces your entire form against his chest. His stiff length is pressed against your ass, and you find yourself grinding against him for just any type of friction to ease the level of horny that’s overcome your being.

“Look at you all needy for my cock. I don’t think you’re fucking ready for me, hm?” His hold on you grows tighter, and the sharp pain of him pulling your strands, mixed with his cock rutting against your behind, strangely makes your core twitch — a dire need of attention.

“Oh, but Sir! I am ready. Plea-” With that, Namjoon shoves you forward back into doggystyle. And when your back isn’t arched enough to his liking, he takes a big blow to your ass, prompting you to adjust your posture. You’re sure by the end of this so called “session” you’ll slip from his establishment sore and bruised. The tip of his cock nudges at your entrance, he runs himself along your dripping labia, making sure to smother himself in your wet. The rising heat in the pit of your core makes you anxious. You can’t remember the last time it had been when you’d had sex, and you supposed Namjoon knows this. You’re not even sure what all this means. How could you both look at each other the same after this is all done? Will he let you go after this? Maybe refer a different counselor? Or will this continue to be what his “sessions” are about? Or is this just a one time thing, and after today, everything will go back to normal? But how could that be possible?

Your on-going thoughts are put on a hold when a slight stretching-like burn approaches so sudden, and you’re left with a wide-opened mouth. Your nails scrape the material of the couch you have left to hold onto. Namjoon feels like nothing you’d ever felt before. He’s big, you know that. But holy hell does he feel different than he looks; it’s something you can’t explain. With toes curling, you call out his name as if he’s the only person left on the plant. What did you do to deserve this kind of dick? Your walls clamp eagerly around his shaft, sucking him in entirely — like a vacuum.

“Shit! It’s been that long, huh?” He admits, gritting his teeth at the sentiment of how tight you are. “He- Let this go?” He adds, while bottoming out completely. Pulling almost all the way out to slam right back into you — your body jerking forward in the process. “S-so fucking stupid. How- Mmmm.” Namjoon can’t contain himself; he pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts, trying beyond his limits to not blow his load into you so quickly.

“How could he let this go?” He pulls out and slams back into you again, this time with a harsh punch. He reaches for your hair, balling his fist into the strands, because for this time, he can’t just take it easy on you.

“More for me, then.” And that’s when you scream as if you’re being murdered — more like your vagina is. Namjoon begins a brutal pace, ramming into you and having no second thoughts about it.

“Oh! Unfgh, S-sir!” Your eyes shut instantly and face scrunches up in pleasure; you’d honestly never felt so high in your entire life. If you could be fucked like this at least once a week, you’d truly die happy.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been wanting to fuck you dumb?” He shoots with a hint of hostility. “I was relieved-” He punctuates with a harsh thrust, “To find out you both divorced… Wanted to fuck the shit out of you ever since you stepped foot into my office… Told me every fucked up thing he ever did to you.” You’re not even sure why but his confession has you smothering him in your juices. The fact he had a desire for you was hot, and you would be lying if you said you wouldn’t have fucked him the first time you had a session with him — that is, without your now ex-husband. Maybe Namjoon is right, maybe you are a slut. But who cares?

Namjoon releases his pull on your hair and pushes your head forward, you languidly fall onto the cushion and bury your face within it while he continues to bang out places in you that you never knew could be reached — his animalistic mannerisms are beyond your comprehension.

“Oh, yes!” You cry out, your figure shifting upwards from his vigorous pace. You nearly topple over at how hard he’s fucking you, and at this moment, you can’t fully think straight with him fucking you senselessly. The only sound you’re aware of is the slapping of his balls against your ass and his grunting here and there. You mumble a few incoherent words, and then a few slapping sounds follows. Your ass cheeks now burning with a hot passion.

“Look at you-” Namjoon grunts as he stills himself inside of you and twists your body around, leaving you to rest on your side. “Can’t even speak properly with my dick inside of you.”

Slap.

“Should clog this little pussy of yours up with my children.”

“Fucking come here,” He hauls you toward him to bring you closer, his cock sheathing itself fully inside of you. Not able to form proper words, your nails drag across his thigh and you wrap your leg around his waist, the heel of your foot digging into his bottom cheek. And just as you blinked, he wraps his hand around your throat and begins plunging his cock in and out of you repeatedly. You’re so close to cumming again, that you find some strength to ease your way between your legs and mindlessly rub your clit. Namjoon notes your actions and squeezes your throat harder.

“Yes! F-fuck!” You attempt to choke out; then Namjoon rams into that certain spot within you that has you seeing stars, and your orgasm floods your entire self that you’re shaking underneath him.

“Fuck yeah,” He coos while releasing your throat and slapping your face left and right. “He was so stupid, hm?” Your walls contracting around him has his cock twitching in a way that he knows is a warning of his impending orgasm. You clench so tightly around him, almost locking him in place, whilst creaming all over his shaft.

“Say it.” You whimper in reply, and he grips your face in place to keep you from squirming. “I want you to say how stupid your ex-husband was for leaving you. Say it now.” Your body continues to tremble and grow limp, yet you force the words from your mouth that even you surprised your own self.

“M-my ex-husband was stupid for leaving me, ahh!” Namjoon jams into you again, his thrusts now a much sloppier pace while his thumb reaches for your clit again, rubbing relentlessly. You wiggle around to somewhat ease your now sensitive, aching clit. But he doesn’t let you. He slaps your face again and pins your arms above your head, his body landing fully on top of yours. He licks the pads of his fingers to find your clit again, and you don’t think it’s possible to cum for the fourth time today, but you’re convinced Namjoon would prove otherwise.

“I want you to cum on my cock again.” He states, with a much softer tone this time, added with, “And tell me how much you’re worth having.” Another wave washes over you, granting his wish. Your chest heaves up and down in an attempt to fully gain your normal breathing pattern back. Your writhing body sends a shock of pleasure straight to his groin, and the need to cum is slowly advancing.

You cling onto Namjoon, and slip “I- am worth it. I-I’m worth having,” It’s as if your simple doing of following his command pushes him over the edge. But your added comment fuels him on even more.

“Cum inside of me, please. Make me full of your children.” With that, Namjoon shudders above you. His member pulses inside of you, streams of his cum color your insides. His lavender-stained strands glue themselves to his forehead, and it isn’t until now that you realize how wet your skin is, courtesy of the leather material below you.

Within the silence that subsides afterwards, aside from the melody of the both of you panting, Namjoon breaks the ice.

“You’re more than enough.”

#bts smut #namjoon smut #hyunglinenetwork #btsguild #btsgoldnet #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #houseofddaeng #btswritingcafe #mikrogalaxynet #ficswithluv #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook

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hufflepuffhollander · 4 years

Text

the photoshoot: tom holland imagine

a/n | i got this idea from a facebook post i saw and ran with it! i’ve never included a photo story in my writing so i hope i didn’t botch it! my WIPs are all pretty angsty so i figured i’d fluff it up a little for y’all (also this gif amirite)

summary | you are picked for a social experiment: a couples’ photoshoot where you don’t meet the person you’re posing with until the beginning of the session.

tom x fem reader | contains fluff, fluff, and more fluff | word count: 2.1k | enjoy!

“My god, just pick a dress, y/n. We’ve been here for hours.”

Your friend stood with her arms crossed as you studied yourself in the dressing room mirror, making faces of content then unrest, unsure if this dress was the one to go with- or if it could’ve been any of the last 15 you’d tried on.

“I can’t decide, maybe I just need to go through them again-”

“No!” your friend said, grabbing the pile of hanged clothes off of the hook on the wall and holding them out of your reach. “You’re overthinking this, it’s just a photoshoot! You don’t even know the guy! And the one you have on is obviously the best choice.”

You turned back to the mirror and stared at the starchy white fabric of the dress, its eyelet lace design making it a tight fit that accentuate your curves. You sighed in resignation. “Fine. But if the pictures come out and I look like a ghost, I’m blaming you.”

You took the outfit home and laid it out in preparation for tomorrow, kicking yourself for having signed up for this in the first place. After a long week, you only wanted to stay in your sweatpants in bed tomorrow instead of getting all dolled up to go take photos in cliche poses with a total stranger. You sent your friend a passive aggressive text about it, since she was the one who made you sign up for the ‘social experiment’, and all you received back was an annoyingly curt “you’ll thank me later”. You threw your phone aside and went to bed early, crossing your fingers that tomorrow would go by as quickly as possible.

You arrived to the shoot location the next day- a vineyard an hour away that you got turned around twice trying to find. Once you stepped out of the car, the photographer came to greet you, a friendly woman in her mid thirties wearing all black and a massive camera swinging around her neck like an oversized necklace.

“Ah, y/n, thank you so much for coming! It seems like your partner is running a little behind, so we’ll just have to wait for a few,” she smiled bleakly, running away to ridicule one of the men setting up the reflective umbrellas.

“We want to capture the people, not the sun, Nicholas.”

You leaned against your car already annoyed at your partner for failing to show up. You had woken up two hours early to curl your hair and do a full face of makeup, and this is how you get rewarded? You swore up and down that you’d smack your friend when you saw her later. The photographer, whose name you learned was Karen—typical—brought you into a tangle of grapevines to test the lighting and shoot some practice photos. You were already horribly uncomfortable when it was just you standing alone, and couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be when another clueless anti-model had to pose next to you.

“Doll, just put your hand on your hip, like this-

“Well no, not like that—uh, Nicholas, can you go pose her?

“Just smile, dear. You look...really unhappy.”

It was nightmarish.

You were saved by the bell as another car pulled into the lot and a guy of average height wearing a crisp blazer stepped out, wearing the snobbiest looking pair of wayfarers you’d ever seen.

“Oh, great! Tom’s here,” Karen cheered, happy to rush away from the agonizing one-on-one session you’d just had. You looked at Nicholas, trying again to fix the umbrella.

“Tom?” you asked, and he just nodded.

“Yeah, Tom Holland. Don’t know how she managed to get an A-lister out here for this, but that’s Karen,” he responded, walking away.

Wait, what?

Karen waltzed back over to you with him in tow, a smile plastered on her face so big you thought the one she flashed you earliest must’ve been entirely insincere.

“Great! Here we are! y/n, this is Tom,” she said, pushing him forward to stand in front of you. He gave you a bright smile and stuck out his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, love.”

You shook his hand without speaking because you literally had forgotten how to breathe. This was your stranger? You’d had the biggest, most incurable crush on Tom Holland since you were a teenager, and all of your social skills that you’d picked up as an adult had clearly just evaporated in the sun.

“Uh, hi-” Karen and Tom shared a laugh at your starstruck expression. “Sorry, do you two know each other?”

“Yeah, Karen and I go way back,” Tom said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her tight. “She taught me how to model.”

“Well, it’s not hard when you have this face to work with!” She pinched Tom’s cheeks and grinned, then looked you up and down, reminding you with a glance how hard it had been just to get you to smile for the camera without looking deranged. Ouch, Karen.

“Okay, well, let’s get started then,” she skipped off back to the rows of vines lining the field and Tom ushered you with his hand. “After you,” he smiled.

You tried not to stumble over your heels stepping in the uneven earth below you, and Karen brought the camera up to her face with a squeal. “Alright, sweeties, let’s make the camera think you’re falling in love!” Karen, you decided, was an extremely over-the-top human. “This is your meet cute. You’re just seeing each other for the first time. Make it sparkle.”

That was all she gave you direction-wise, and you and Tom just stood staring at each other a few feet apart as the camera started clicking. The shade of your cheeks made it look like you’d just run a marathon and you just started giggling out of sheer nerve, making Tom start to work up a laugh, too.

“She’s a bit much, isn’t she?” he motioned with his eyes so Karen couldn’t pick up on his comment.

“I don’t even know what she wants me to do.” you said, concentrating on a bushel of grapes instead of Tom’s dreamy face because you were worried if you spent more than three seconds looking into his eyes, you’d pass out cold.

“Well I’m basically a pro at this, so let me help you, okay?” he said, reaching out for your hand again. You took it as your heart did somersaults in your chest, and as he exclaimed “ooh, nice nails”, you genuinely smiled, giving Karen exactly the shot she wanted.

Your hand was shaking, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m absolutely clueless!”

Tom shrugged and looked off to the side. “Well, you said it, not me...”

You gasped and feigned offense, whipping your hand out of his. “How dare you!”

He laughed and tried to take your hand again, but you dramatically swiped your arm out of his reach, and the camera picked up a series of shots that made it look like you and Tom were playing ninja.

“Uh, what are we doin’ here, folks?” Karen questioned as you and Tom ran in circles around one another, him trying to get at your hands and you doing everything in your power not to let it happen. Your nerves melted away as the endorphins kicked in. Eventually Tom gave up and decided to grab hold of you, pick you up and twirl you around, in the chaos yelling “We need to please the Karen!”. You were laughing and out of breath from running around, and you slowly lowered your head to his, the look in his eyes reading that he was about to kiss you...

“That was amazing!” Karen squealed, shaking you from Tom’s mesmerizing stare, pushing the moment past you. Tom let you down to the ground, both of you shocked that he’d made such a bold move in the first place. He wiped his hands on the legs of his pants and cleared his throat as you fiddled with some of the curls that had come loose around your face. Karen couldn’t be happier; the money shot came out looking like a magazine ad.

Tom gave you a sheepish smile. “Uh, sorry if that was too-”

“It wasn’t,” you batted your lashes at him and could’ve sworn his cheeks were tinted just as pink as yours.

Karen’s loud voice pitched in as you had ended up standing still, a photographer’s worst nightmare.

“Okay, so we’ve met, now show me that chemistry!” she shouted, getting an eye roll from you and a snicker from Tom at your reaction.

“Is she expecting us to fall madly in love now that we’ve known each other for more than five minutes?” you asked, fluffing out the skirt of your dress.

“Weirder things have happened,” Tom shrugged his shoulders and winked at you before turning around and walking towards a cluster of vines, picking off a grape and popping in his mouth with a satisfying crunch.

“Oh, are we allowed to eat them? I’m dying out here in the sun!” You followed his pattern and picked a few grapes out of the brambles, noticing a few rows away that there was a small table with two glasses and a bottle of wine. Tom followed your gaze to the alcohol and looked back at you, his expression reflecting exactly what you were thinking.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he smirked.

You collectively ignored Karen’s remarks as you wandered to the table and filled the glasses.

“Are we sure this is here for us?” you looked around skeptically.

“I have no idea, darling. Cheers.”

You sat down in the grass and clinked the flutes together, still unable to believe this was really happening to you. You and Tom started to talk about nothing, already feeling a thousand times more comfortable around each other, bonding over this shared weird experience—and the fresh off-the-vine wine certainly didn’t hesitate to calm your nerves.

As Tom was leaning closer to you, gaze notably flicking from your eyes to your lips, Karen snuck up to you—pretending to be a grape?—and snapped photos of your impromptu picnic.

“Just adorable,” she murmured, and you almost spilled your wine because of how startled you were. Damnit, Karen, you keep ruining the moment. But she didn’t think twice about the interruption; she almost had tears in her eyes because of how perfect the shots were.

You both sat up and away from one another, feeling stiff now that a lens was pointed at you.

“Well, don’t stop on my account!” she chortled, wholly unaware her debut was what killed the vibe.

Tom stood up and offered his hand to help you stand, not immediately letting it go as you wandered to a different part of the sunny vineyard. You pushed the photographer out of your mind as you chatted again, bumping each other’s shoulders as you walked and not minding it a bit. Every time you saw a certain glint in Tom’s eyes, any moment he caught you looking, there could’ve been a spark there that ignited something more. But you were constantly interrupted by shutter clicks, yells at Nicholas, and annoying directing interjections by the appropriately-named Karen.

At one point, Tom had clearly had enough of the pestering, and took your hand, pulling you into an array of closely packed trees so you couldn’t be found.

“Woah- what are you doing?” you asked, confused at the sudden change of scenery.

“Guys? Where did you go?” You heard a shrill voice coming from outside the trees, and Tom attempted to shush you by pulling you close into his body and covering half your face with his hand.

“Shut up shut up shut-”

You heard Karen’s voice grow quieter as she searched in the opposite direction.

“Tom!” you chuckled, prying his fingers off of your cheek. “You’re going to smear my makeup!”

“It’s not like you need it, y/n,” he said without thinking, attention still focused on hiding.

Your whole face grew hot and you couldn’t help but smile like a complete fool. When he looked down at your reaction, he noticed the weight in what he’d said, and made the cutest giggle you’d ever heard, trying to avert the focus from his compliment.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t handle another photo directive being shouted in my ear,” he breathed while pushing his hair back out of his eyes in some devilishly handsome way. You were still clutching the hand that had been on your face, and Tom looked down to interlock his fingers with yours.

“You do know we’re at a photoshoot, right?”

He playfully shoved your shoulder with his free hand at your sassy comment.

“Just saying, I thought you were a pro-”

You heard the photographer’s voice come into the foreground again and you abruptly ran as fast as you could with heels on, still holding Tom’s hand as you trailed behind him. You found yourselves in an even more tightly packed bramble of trees, facing each other with barely a grapevine’s width between you.

“Oh, you have a stick in your hair,” you whispered, reaching up to pick a tiny branch out of his curls. As you looked from his hair to his eyes, he was staring deeply into yours, prompting you to leave your hand resting at the back of his neck.

Wordlessly, he leaned in and kissed you in one fell swoop, and you thought you might implode on the spot when his lips came in contact with your own. He tasted like cologne and crisp grape juice and it was a mixture of scents you hoped would never leave your nose—just the way he kissed you so sweetly made you want to bathe in the stuff.

When he pulled back, he brought your intertwined fingers up to cup your cheek, and you let your hand rest on the back of his as you tilted your head to instigate another kiss, still enjoyably dizzied from the one before.

Tom let his mouth linger over yours after another long kiss before coming up for air again, and you could see his eyes wrinkling at the corners, knowing he was smiling without being able to see the rest of his face.

“You know, I was hesitant to do the whole ‘stranger photoshoot’ thing, but now I’m pretty happy I was able to be convinced.” He sighed contently.

“This was more of a stranger hide-and-go-seek than a photoshoot, I feel like,” you spoke from your lighthearted chest in airy breaths and moved to lock lips again, unable to get enough of your stranger. He put his hand on the small of your back and leaned you backward, deepening the already electric hold he had on you.

“I don’t want you to be a stranger anymore, darling,” he mumbled against you, sending vibrations through you with his voice. You just whispered a soft “okay”, lost for words, as his mouth touched your cheek, your jaw, and then back to your lips for more of your wine-infused kisses. You were wishing this moment could last forever, Tom holding you and sending shivers down your spine, right as you heard a click and saw the bright white flash of a bulb.

“Jesus, Karen!”

But she didn’t care that you were mad; her experiment had worked, she’d gotten her strangers together—and just look at that shot.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland blurb #tom holland pictorial #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagines #tom holland one shots #tom holland blurbs #tom holland pictorials #tom holland fanfictions

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nbrook29 · 4 years

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💞 My ultimate Sobbe fic recs 💞

Recently, I have gone through Robbe/Sander tag on ao3 and I decided to compose a list of fics that are absolute gems for me. A few disclaimers first:

✔ I didn’t include works in progress (WIPs), however I did include fics that are only on tumblr

✔ the order of the fics below is random

✔ this is the list of my personal favorites so if your favorite fic is not on the list it doesn’t mean it’s bad or that I consider it bad - we just vibe with different things :)

✔ if there’s a fic on this list that you decided to give a shot and loved it, please remember about leaving a comment under it to let the author know that

✔ I’ve been trying to add the “read more” thingy but it doesn’t show, I’m sorry, I know long posts are annoying af

under 1k

we’re keeping it simple by noobishere | G

Summary: Sander comes over unannounced and attacks Robbe’s very person (a.k.a the one where Sander teases Robbe on Eenvoud)

This is a guaranteed mood lifter. It’s short, sweet, to the point, and oh so funny. The banter. And I’d die to see that in the show.

1k - 5k

Fizzy Colas by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: Let’s say this is a clip (hopefully not as short as the standard 1:40 of this season) with Sander as the main on a ‘bros night out’ 🍻

This author is my queen/king alright? They take a simple idea and turn it into the most lovely/cute/soft story. This fic is exactly that. Sobbe’s chemistry here is out of this world and the banter is to die for.

high for this by flowersmaze (@bowieskam) | G

Summary: In which Sander remains a Flirt™ and in love with Robbe even when he can’t feel his face after a medical procedure

The summary says it all. Loopy Sander is the cutest and funniest thing.

Pull Me from the Dark by TheOceanIsMyInkwell (@theoceanismyinkwell) | T

Summary: Sander discovers that Robbe has recently been prescribed antidepressants, and Robbe opens up to him about the night he almost stepped off the bridge. Only love will show how much they’ve grown and pull them through.

This time, the boys talk about Robbe’s mental state which is unusual in fics. This oneshot is communication 101. And this line is just 👌🏻 “But after the dust of their first kiss and their first vows of commitment settled around them, Robbe took a look at the space in which he floated and realized, somewhere along the line, that finding the love of your life doesn’t fix you.”

diminuendo by noobishere

Summary: Waking up feels like an ordeal. His eyes are heavy, arms a dead weight, he isn’t sure if his limbs are even in the right places, but eventually, Sander comes to. (a.k.a a take on how Sander fairs after Robbe left for school.)

Sander’s POV after Dinsdag 7:27. It’s a great insight into his headspace during that time. This could be a scene in the show because it fits so well.

you’re wonder under summer sky by nothingbutniall | M

Summary: Two city boys go camping. What could go wrong? (Everything, apparently.)

Those boys are a chaotic mess okay? They’re such dorks. This fic has the best kind of grumpiness there is and sobbe is written so in character here.

if we can make it through december (maybe we’ll make it through forever) by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Robbe and Sander at the Christmas market.

Can you imagine those two dorks at the Christmas market? Well you don’t have to anymore because this fic is everything you need and more. And this line “Couldn’t,” Sander sulks. “You can’t hold hands properly with mittens on.” makes me go all gooey inside every.single.time 😍

A New Sunday Feeling by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: Sander before Robbe: Ugh, Sundays 😒 Sander after Robbe: 😏🥺🥰

The way this author writes sobbe’s intimate moments is just pure talent. They have such way with words.

memories painted with much brighter ink by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Saint Nicholas is the perfect excuse for an evening of gifts and banter with the flatshare. (Basically all five of them being cute together, and then Robbe and Sander being cute with just the two of them.)

This is the perfect fic for an October evening, when Christmas is just around the corner and you’ve just made yourself a cup of coffee and want to read some heart-warming well-written christmassy fluff.

5k - 10k

Let’s Dance by msleviss (@sander-driesen) | G

Summary: Robbe and his friends go to a club to check out Amber’s DJ cousin.

THIS PERSON PREDICTED DJ SANDER Y’ALL. And Robbe thirsts over him. And there is an instant connection. And Robbe dances. And it’s so cute.

video phone by tokyometropolis (@luludemauryyy) | E

Summary: AKA OH MY GOD, THEY WERE QUARANTINED…except not together, because life is cruel. Thankfully it’s 2020 and when Robbe has an…er…intense dream about Sander in the middle of the night, all he has to do is press one button and Facetime him about it. Thing is…sometimes FaceTiming isn’t enough.

Look. I get that smut fics are not everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s totally fine. But. If you’re looking for a well-written smut that’s in character and where you can feel the love between the characters, this is it. Hands down. Sorry not sorry 💁🏼‍♀️

10k - 20k

our camp of dreams by robbesanderx (@robbesdriesen) | M

Summary: a summer camp!AU where robbe and sander are both co-counselors

Misunderstandings lead to pining. Teenage angst at its finest. I really like camp stories, it’s my thing.

Falling For You by silver_etoile (@azozzoni) | T

Summary: Robbe only knows one thing about football: that Sander Dreisen is the hottest player on the FC Utrecht team. When Jens drags him to a match, the last thing Robbe expects is to meet someone so perfect, and it’s all he can do not to mess it up, but will he succeed?

Sobbe in a different setting with a bit different dynamic yet still having that special something. It’s a nicely written story of the development of their relationship, first meeting, falling in love, ups and down, all the best things in fics. And Sander as a soccer player is a pretty 🔥 concept (and I think Robbe agrees).

This isn’t our first time around by noobishere | E

Summary: One moment they are in the kitchen of their shared apartment, the next, they’re in this strange but familiar room.(a.k.a the au in which they accidentally go hopping through multiple universes)

The universe takes matters into their own hands and shows those silly boys that they are meant to be. Sign me up for the ride.

Coffee and Croques by peaceoutofthepieces (@peaceoutofthepieces) | G

Summary: Sander works at the on-campus coffee shop with Eliott, and he might just have a crush on the cute boy in the brown coat.

I’m a sucker for coffeshop fics. There is just something so good about them. This one is the coffeshop!AU that sobbe deserves. Oh the pining, and the secretive looks, the silly boys, and a pinch of Elu. Me likey ☕

The finest of the meadow by allforyoumylove | M

Summary: The universe brings two lonely boys together in a flowering meadow. They fall for each other fast and hard among delicate daisies, warm summer breezes, and shooting stars.

This is magical. My comment on the work was “So soft, so beautiful, so THEM, ugh.” and I MEANT that. This is just the right amount of sweetness. This is a must read. I’m not messing around.

two side of the same coin series by MajorAccent (@acespaceacepilot) | E

Summary: the valleys and mountains of sander’s bpd

How the boys handle Sander’s ups and downs. Robbe being the best boyfriend ever. I love how good he is for Sander, being there for him, not treating him like a baby, and not controlling him. How much he tries to make it at least a little bit easier for him. If you don’t want to read explicit stories, at least give the first part a try since it’s not E rated.

Zaterdag 9:58 by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: What happened after the croissants dropped to the floor 🥐🤭💕

I meant it when I said Foxsake5 has great way with words. Every single piece of theirs is just “chef’s kiss”. This fic is a definition of a domestic fic. Oh, and it happened. Totally. It’s my headcanon now.

its an unrequited love by eggsntoast | G

Summary: Sander works part-time at a museum every Sunday. Robbe is a frequent visitor.

A Sander POV fic. I was sold from the beginning. The development of their relationship here is so cute, and they’re being so stupid with their pining instead of just talking to each other and you just want to shake them but at the same time you’re rooting for them so hard. Oh and did I mention pining?

20k+

Jij Verliest series by ravenbrenna09 (@djsander) | M

Summary: For the past three months, Robbe’s life—and what it once was—had been stripped away and rearranged. Now, if anything, his life had become a bit repetitive: homework, stream, ignore Thomas’s Instagram, repeat. But one Friday evening, Robbe meets a hurricane in the form of a platinum-haired tattoo artist who just might show him everything that he’s been missing.

This is a long series okay? But oh so worth it. It’s captivating and you don’t want to stop until you finish. And once you finish you’re sad it’s over even though you’ve just spent 8 fucking hours reading it. It’s amazing. But you probably know that because it’s quite popular (rightfully so). The best thing is that you expect it to go bad halfway through because it’s difficult to keep the quality on the same level in a fic that long. But it doesn’t.

Visitations by lucidpantone (@lucidpantone) | E

Summary: Does Robbe and Sander’s relationship survive into adulthood. This fic takes place in two simultaneously timelines: the past and the present.The present occurs in one entire day. Both timelines are completely out of chronological order. Everything is in clips.You can be dropped in at anytime of the day in any timeline. So clip by clip you will need to piece together what happen to Sander & Robbe and why the present looks the way it does and what happened in the past that got them there.This love story is a journey. So be prepared.In the words of one of our Even’s. It’s a complicated love story between complicated people.

This is not a regular fic. The author put so much thought into it, there are so many gems, so many little things that you have to pay attention to because it.all.matters. And there is not one interpretation. Don’t you just love when a story forces you to think and use your brain? Cause I do. Not gonna lie: this story hurts, and like the author says themselves, it’s a journey. But oh my god get in because it’s amazing. And the ending is just sjsjsjsjsddhdhsdsgdsg 🤯

the night we met by themoongirl (@dearsander) | T

Summary: Robbe Ijzermans has a brain that won’t let him sleep, a chest that feels far too heavy and thoughts that never stop.During his first year of college he meets Sander Driesen. Robbe finds what he never went looking for.

A college AU. This fic is a journey of pain and fluff and humor. It has awesome friendships. And sobbe falling in love. And liminal spaces. I read it a while ago so I don’t remember it as well as the others but you know what? I still remember that it was great and I’m lowkey happy I don’t remember it that well because now I can go and read it again.

The Stars Look Very Different by @peaceoutofthepieces

Summary: Robbe is bored. He’s bored of listening to his friends talking about girls, and his other friends making out, and no one ever doing anything. He’s tired of having to put in all the work, of making his own fun. He’s tired of feeling nothing so he doesn’t have to feel like nothing. His party stunts are pushing the limit, his thrill seeking beginning to worry even his friends, and his carelessness is toeing the line of dangerous.

He’s a little tired of being ‘dangerous’, too.

Sander may or may not have a crush on the older boy with the apparent death wish. He wouldn’t mind a little danger.

Once I started reading this fic, each day I was waiting for an update at the edge of my seat which was a feeling I expected from s4 that did not deliver. TSLVD definitely delivered. My favorite sobbe social media AU

Ziggy Stardust Series by skamsnake (@skamsnake) | M/E

A collection of fics taking place throughout the season. Most of them are E rated so be aware of that but it’s a really cool mixture of fluff and spice *fans myself*

#wtfock #sobbe #robbe x sander #wtfock fanfic #sobbe fanfic #SHOW UP IN THE TAG

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