#I’ve got twelve fics finished so far

[adrift-in-thyme]

Anyone care for a febuwhump snippet? >:)

#I’ve got twelve fics finished so far #three…? of those I think will be continued #much to the boys’ relief #…or not XD #gotta say although it’s been fun #it’s also been kinda lonely writing them without telling anyone #writing really is a very social thing for me and I’m realizing that more and more as time goes on #trin rambles

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hi there, hope you're doing well. I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better. Cheers!

Right Where You Left Me

Request: I would love to request a fic where the reader is Sirius' wife who reunites with him after he escapes from Azkaban, takes care of him e.g. feeding him and grooming him, and helping him get better.

Hi! I’m so sorry for the wait, it took me forever to get to this request, and even longer to finish it. I’ve been in a bit of a slump, but I feel better. I love this request, thank you so much for sending it in! I hope you enjoy it :)

(Warnings: swearing, mentions of azkaban and sirius’s treatment there, mentions of death, vague mention of nudity, let me know if i missed anything)

—

When you received the Patronus from Remus telling you Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, it brought you to your knees. 

You thought about him every day. But you could only ever picture him in the days before he was arrested. It hurt too much to think about him rotting away in prison. But hearing that he got out? That he was out in the world and could be anywhere by now? The fact that he was suddenly much closer to you than you thought he would ever be again?

It terrified you.

You married Sirius right after school ended and the war was beginning to pick up. He proposed on a whim, telling you that the rest of your days weren’t guaranteed, and he didn’t want to live through another day without you tied to him. You would have always been by his side, but this was tying more than just your lives together—it was your souls. When Harry was born, you were named his godparents. All was well for a while. Calm, even. Of course, the calm didn’t last. 

It wasn’t long after your marriage before that night in Godric’s Hollow came, and Sirius was taken away from you. 

But it wasn’t just Sirius. 

It was James, Lily, and Peter—even Mary. Marlene was in the weeks before, and Dorcas too. They were ripped away from you, far before you were ready to let them go. Remus was the only one who you kept in touch with after that night. You clung to each other in the weeks after, seeming to be the only people in the world the other could find solace in. But as the years passed, your visits and letters became few and far in between. 

Then—after all that time—another Patronus came. 

Sirius had come to Hogwarts, and he’d proved his innocence to those who mattered. It was Peter who had betrayed everyone, and he was still alive. 

And, while Sirius had you and Remus on his side, he was still considered a fugitive. The Aurors were after him, and he needed to be kept some place safe where they wouldn’t come looking. Luckily for you, the flat you bought was outside of Wizarding London. Sirius had always loved the feeling of places untouched by magic, so after you married, you moved in together in a quiet area on the outskirts of London. It was his idea to use magic to ward it so that people looking for you would have a hard time, and after so long away from the Wizarding community, not many people would think it was worth it or even remember to come looking for Sirius in hiding with you.

After twelve years of solitude, you couldn’t fathom the idea of your husband coming back to you. You couldn’t fathom the idea of him being part of your day to day life again. All you could do to keep yourself together was tidy up and prepare for Sirius’s arrival.

You couldn’t believe it when Remus finally brought him home to you. 

Your boy—who was a man now, or at least the shell of one—was sitting right in your living room. The only home he had ever known outside of Grimmauld Place or Hogwarts, and he couldn’t have looked more out of place. 

Neither of you spoke when Remus eased him down onto the couch, before coming to your side. You’d always pictured that by some miracle if Sirius ever came home to you, you’d rush into his arms and he’d hold you like no time had passed. You spent years missing his touch, wishing you could hug him just one more time. But now he was right in front of you, and you had no idea how to act. You didn’t know if he even wanted you to touch him. You couldn’t take your eyes off Sirius, eyes wide as you looked him over. 

Time had not been kind to him. 

You could see the man you once knew bleeding through, but so much of this version of him was unknown to you. Sirius kept his eyes on the floor, but would occasionally glance up at you. You knew he was seeing a stranger, too.

“I have to go back,” Remus whispered, turning your attention to him. “They’ll know what’s happened back at Hogwarts if I don’t leave soon, and too many people know what’s happened already. I’m sorry. I’ll come back as soon as I can, yeah?”

You could hardly hear him, but you quickly nodded, giving him a squeeze. “Be careful, Remus. I’ll take care of him while you’re gone.”

“I know you will,” he murmured, squeezing you tight.

He let you go, kneeling down next to Sirius who was watching you both with a look full of anxiety. Remus placed a hand on Sirius’s shoulder, his touch light and gentle.

“I have to go, alright? But you’re safe here. I promise. It’s just Y/N.”

Just Y/N, Sirius thought. He just nodded, a conflicted look on his face. Remus stood up, giving you one last look of sympathy, before walking out the door. He left a deafening silence in his wake.

It took you forever to get your feet to move. But when you did, you were falling. You landed on your knees just in front of Sirius, peering up at him through teary eyes. You could see him take a breath, stilling as you got closer.

“Can I touch you?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Sirius swallowed hard. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, and you gently reached your hand up, your fingertips hovering over his face. Taking a breath, you cradled his cheek in your palm. You could feel the stubble along his jaw, and the sharpness off his cheek. His skin was cool, far from the usual flush you remembered from all those years ago.

“You’re really here,” you murmured, your voice catching in your throat. “Oh, love. You’re so beautiful.”

Your words pulled a pained whimper from Sirius’s chest. He nestled his face into your hand, a few stray tears pooling in your palm. You were quick to wipe them away, leaning in close. He tilted his head down, resting his forehead against yours. He took a deep breath, taking you in.

“I pictured your face every day, and I still think I’ll never get tired of looking at you. How could I? You’re right here in front of me, as beautiful as the day I lost you. But you’ve always been the pretty one in this relationship, haven’t you?”

You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head. “In my dreams. But it’s good to see your sense of humor is still intact.”

The next few moments were quiet, nothing but the sound of sniffles and shaky breaths reaching your ears. 

Finally, Sirius forced himself to look around. He’d braced himself from the moment he walked in to see all that had changed since he left. He’d expected you to move on and live your life without him, and he’d expected the flat to reflect that. It was honestly more of a shock to him when Remus told him you still lived there than anything else. But as he looked around and took everything in, he realized how wrong he had been. 

“You haven’t changed a thing,” he said, looking at the art on the walls you’d picked out together when you first moved in.

You glanced around as well. You wanted to tell him how you didn’t have the heart to change anything. And although seeing him in everything around you felt like you were being stabbed, you just couldn’t get rid of anything. Getting rid of it would mean getting rid of all you had left of him.

And you would have rather been stabbed a thousand times than do that.

You shook your head, pointing to the spare room. “Actually, Remus lived here for a while. He pretty much flipped that whole room. Said something about you having too expensive a taste for him to have to endure for extended periods of time.”

“Merlin, I bet it looks like grunge threw up in there,” he mused, making you smile and nod.

You stood up, offering him your hands. “Are you hungry? We need to get you fed and cleaned up, love.”

Sirius looked down to the robes he was wearing. They were tattered—resembling rags stitched together more than they were resembling clothes. His hair was greasy and matted to his head, and his face and body was caked in dirt. He had almost forgotten just how dirty he was, a flush spreading across his cheeks as he gave you an embarrassed look. 

“It’s alright, darling,” you said softly, taking his hands in yours. “We’ll take it at your pace. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Reluctantly, Sirius nodded. You smiled, gently leading him up off the sofa and into the kitchen.

—

It took ages to find him something to eat. 

You nearly keeled over when he told you that pretty much the only thing he had been given to eat for the past twelve years was bread and water. It was what he’d grown accustomed to eating, and he wasn’t sure he could stomach anything else. You had to choke back tears when you finally suggested soup—one of the first things he learned to make on his own without magic. It took a while, but he managed to get most of it down. 

You made small talk while he ate, telling him little things he’d missed while he was gone. You left out the most painful details. You could tell him about those later.

Finally, he couldn’t stall anymore. 

He let you take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom, his eyes on the floor as you shut the door behind him.

“Shower or bath?” You asked, turning the water on to let it heat up. “A bath might be easier. You look tired, and I don’t want you falling over or something.”

Sirius just nodded, and you assumed he was alright with you choosing for him. You let the tub fill up, making sure the water wasn’t too hot before you turned the faucet off. You turned back around, frowning when you saw Sirius looking back at you with anxious eyes.

“It’s ready,” you said softly, stepping out of the way.

Sirius watched you for a moment, fidgeting back and forth on his heels. Just as you opened your mouth to speak again, he beat you to it.

“Can you turn around?” He asked, lowering his eyes to the floor. “I don’t mind if you stay, but could you…could you maybe turn around for this part?”

You quickly nodded, stepping towards the door. “Of course! I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask if you wanted me in here—”

He was quick to speak, his voice shaky. “I do! But this is just a little weird, you know?”

You nodded, backing up to the doorway and turning to face it. You could feel the heat creep up to your cheeks as you heard his clothes hit the floor, followed by the sound of him climbing into the tub. You had seen Sirius naked a thousand times before. He was never ashamed of his body, he never shied away, and you had seen plenty of him in your years of knowing him. This version of him made your chest tighten, and all you could do was stand there and hope he wasn’t feeling the emotions you were. You waited another moment before talking over your shoulder.

“Do you need anything, love? I’ll wait outside if you want me to. Unless you want me here. I’m happy to do whatever you want, it’s up to you.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “Uh…could you maybe help me? My hair is matted and I don’t think I can fix it on my own.”

There was probably a spell you could have used—some sort of detangling charm to help get the mats out. But Sirius had gotten used to not being able to use magic, and you didn’t feel like using it either. The truth was, you preferred it this way.

It was an excuse to get close to him again and spend time with him.

It was an excuse to take care of him.

You nodded, turning around to grab your brush. You kept your eyes on his as you sat down on the edge of the tub, trying your best not to let your eyes wander. You set your brush on your knees, reaching for a cup off the ledge of the tub to dip down into the water and fill up.

“Tilt your head back for me, love,” you directed, smoothing your hand over his hairline as he tipped back far enough for you to pour the water over his hair.

You repeated the process a few more times before setting the cup down and grabbing the conditioner. You smoothed it through his hair, gently tugging at the knots with your fingers before you grabbed your brush. It was silent while you worked, making slow but steady progress. Eventually, Sirius shifted, and the water sloshed just over the side of the tub.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking over his shoulder with guilty eyes to see if he splashed you.

“Don’t be,” you replied quickly, smoothing a comforting hand across his shoulder before moving back up to his hair. “Are you alright? Getting cold?”

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, before deciding against it and closing it. He just shook his head, growing silent once more. You knew there was something he wasn’t saying, and you didn’t want to push him. But you hadn’t made much progress with his hair, and you didn’t fancy sitting in silence for the rest of the evening.

You set your brush down, gently smoothing your palm over his hair. “Sirius…you can tell me anything. You know that, right? I know this feels strange, but it’s still me you’re talking to. Alright? It’s me. There’s nothing you can’t tell me. Whatever it is, I’m here to listen.”

There was another splash as he shifted, twisting around to face you. He was going to say that he’d tell you another time, and that he didn’t have it in him to say it just yet. 

But then he looked into your eyes.

And you were looking at him with such sincerity and warmth that he couldn’t help but spill. You watched his eyes fill with tears, and you quickly reached for his hand which he gladly let you take.

“I saw Harry,” he finally choked out.

You felt your breath catch in your chest. A deep sorrow spread through you, filling your gut with dread. You could feel your own tears stinging behind your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. It wasn’t the time for them.

“He looks just like them, doesn’t he?” You breathed, squeezing Sirius’s hand. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Remus promised he’d say hello for me once he got to Hogwarts.”

“He knows who you are?” Sirius asked, his voice full of surprise.

“Dumbledore wouldn’t tell me where he was when they came for him. The bastard said I was “in no shape” to look after him, and it was too dangerous for me to get involved. I tried so many times to get him to tell me, but I knew he had already pushed me and Remus to the back of the list as far as who could be around Harry…I didn’t even catch a glimpse of him until he was eight. Merlin, you have no idea how angry I was when I found out they had given him to Petunia and her sorry excuse for a husband.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. You could see the anger brewing inside him, watching as he took deep breaths to calm himself. But he didn’t let it out on you. He just squeezed your hand, tightening his grip.

Sirius cleared his throat. “Did you try and go get him?”

“Dumbledore threatened to have my magic taken away if I didn’t leave the matter be. He didn’t tell me anything about Harry or where he was kept hidden away. He just brought me a picture of him, and promised that when it was finally time for Harry to go to Hogwarts, he’d let me see him. Remus had to keep an eye on me till he was sure I wouldn’t do something stupid before that time came. He’d been waiting as long as me—he’s just better than me at patience, I guess.”

“You never were very good at being patient,” Sirius mused, but you could hear the strain in his voice as he spoke.

You gave him a tight lipped smile, trying your best to mean it. “Anyway, I met Harry for the first time in Diagon Alley. Dumbledore finally let me see him under the condition that it be in a public and magical place—but I wasn’t allowed to tell him about you.”

Sirius frowned, and you could feel your chest tighten. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, your eyes in your lap.

“I wanted to tell him—so badly. But Dumblefore wouldn’t let me. All I could say was that I was a friend of Harry’s parents, and that I was there to help him get ready for school. I finally told him I was his godmother last summer when I took him for school supplies again. He spent the afternoon asking me about how I knew his parents. He kept pressing for every detail about them and how I knew them, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I told him everything about James and Lily I could remember. It just about killed me—”

Your words caught in your throat, cutting you short. Sirius reached his other hand up to reach for yours, his brows furrowing in concern. You looked up, giving him a sad smile.

You swallowed, choking back tears. “He’s so like them, Sirius. He’s got James’s ridiculous hair, and Lily’s fire. I can hardly look at him without seeing her eyes staring back at me. It’s so fucking unfair.”

A pained sound was pulled from Sirius’s throat, and you stopped yourself from talking about James and Lily any further. You grabbed the brush again, burying your nose in your work as you tried to ignore the sorrow you caught in his eyes before he turned his head straight.

“Tell me about it,” you prompted, changing the subject. “Tell me about him.”

Sirius was quiet a moment, like he was trying to find the right words. “He was…beautiful.”

You smiled, nodding for him to continue as you worked the knots out of his hair.

“He’s got this little witch by his side who quite honestly scared me—”

“Hermione,” you finished for him, grinning. “She’s a wonder, isn’t she? Ron, too.”

Sirius nodded, wringing his hands. “I’m glad Harry has someone. They seem like good friends. He’ll at least have them by his side to keep him from getting into too much trouble. He’ll certainly have a better shot than we did.”

You chuckled, smoothing your hand over his hair. “Remus told me he’s doing really well. It was a big year for him, but…he’ll be alright. We’ll see to that now.”

Sirius stiffened, turning around to face you. You paused what you were doing, setting down the brush. His eyes were lowered, his voice quiet as he spoke.

“I told him he could come stay with me, at least once it was safe to and he was able. I wasn’t really thinking about where that would be. My first thought was Grimmauld Place, but I don’t think I can stomach having him there. It’s not right. But I didn’t think to ask you—”

“Sirius, love,” you interrupted, gently cupping his cheek. “This is your home. You can invite whoever you want—you don’t have to ask my permission. And Harry will always be welcome here. If it’s what he wants, he can come stay with us. It can be his home too.”

His eyes softened, and his shoulders fell as he let out a breath of relief. “Merlin, I missed you.”

You could feel yourself growing emotional again, but you refused to let it show. There was so much you wanted to say to him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak without your eyes welling with tears. You just cleared your throat as you leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder.

“Tilt your head back for me again, darling,” you managed to whisper, rinsing his hair out. “Almost done. We’ll get you cleaned up so you can rest, alright?”

—

Not long after, you had Sirius clean and out of the tub, bundled up under the pile of blankets you had dragged over to your bed. He looked a bit ridiculous buried under them all, but it made you smile seeing him comfortable, and he was very happy to oblige you. 

You laid next to him, under a considerably less amount of layers. “Warm enough?”

A warm laugh came from next to you as Sirius rolled over to face you. “Yeah, I think I’m all set, darling.”

You smiled, and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Out of habit—one you didn’t even know you still had—you reached for his hand under the sheets. You used to always wind down every night like this, cherishing the time you had together. You never knew how much longer you’d be able to do it with the war raging on, and you both got quite used to doing this each night. 

Sirius stiffened in surprise when he felt your fingers reach his, but he quickly recovered once he realized what you were doing. He let you take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers.

“This bed is so soft,” he murmured, tilting his chin down to look at you. “I forgot how soft it was.”

You tried not to let your mind wander, thinking about the sleeping conditions he would have had in Azkaban. He would tell you one day about what it was like there. 

Neither of you were prepared to talk about it just yet.

“Do you wanna sleep somewhere else? I could make up the couch—”

“No, love,” he said, squeezing your hand. “This is good.”

You nodded, resting your head against the pillow. Another silence fell over the room. You shuffled to get a little closer, absentmindedly tracing your thumb along the back of his hand. Sirius let out a heavy sigh, drawing your attention up to him. You waited for him to speak, lying still until he looked down and his eyes met yours. There was a pain in them you couldn’t describe.

“Did you think I did it?”

You sucked in a breath, your grip on his hand tightening. You could feel his eyes on you as you frowned, bring your joined hands up from under the sheets to rest on top of the blanket.

You had been waiting for him to ask you this.

You knew he must have spent the past decade wondering what you thought happened. He’d sat in that cell all alone, thinking his wife thought he was a cold blooded murderer who had killed her best friends. 

The world thought he was a killer. Why wouldn’t you?

You dropped his hand, gently reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm against yours, a pink flush spreading. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? You didn’t know. You caressed his cheek, giving him a sad smile. You could see his eyes welling with tears.

“No,” you finally said, your voice sure. “I didn’t think it was you. I didn’t know what had happened, but I didn’t think it was you.”

Sirius let out a breath, his voice cracking. “Really?”

You swallowed hard, nodding.

“You would have died before ever hurting James—and you would have done a lot worse to save him. There wasn’t a single part of me that thought you could have killed James and Lily. I just couldn’t fathom it. There was no one in this world you loved more than them, and I knew that it couldn’t have been you. I didn’t know they had made Peter the secret keeper last minute, and I didn’t know where his body was if he was supposed to be dead, but I knew you had absolutely nothing to do with it. I think Remus knew it too…deep down. He thought I was crazy with the theories I was coming up with to try and absolve you. But he never truly blamed you—and eventually, we stopped talking about it all together. It hurt too much to keep trying to solve the mystery. It was easier to let it go.”

Fresh tears spilled, and Sirius was quick to wipe them away. Your heart ached at his kindness, even after all these years. All these years of solitude when you had left him behind, and yet, he was the one consoling you.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, composing yourself the best you could. “I’m so sorry I didn’t try harder to get you back. I’m so sorry you had to suffer there all those years while I got to just keep living my life. You don’t know how sorry I am. Please forgive me, Sirius.”

Sirius quickly shook his head, his palm resting against your cheek. “None of that, pretty girl. It’s not your fault—”

“But it is,” you tried to say, but he just kept shaking his head.

“Well, I don’t care—it doesn’t matter…I don’t blame you. I never blamed you, darling. So stop blaming yourself. I’m sure you’ve spent long enough doing that, and I won’t watch you torture yourself. Don’t you think we’ve both been through enough torture?”

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. He was so strong. It shocked you, just how strong he was. He had been through so much, and yet he still carried himself like the man you knew. He still let other people lean on him even when it should have been him doing the leaning. It was remarkable, really.

“Since when did you get so wise?” You asked, and you had mustered a grin that made him smile too. “Where’s the stubborn man I once knew?”

Sirius shrugged. “He’s still in here somewhere. Just needs a little practice. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll meet him again soon.”

You scoffed, breathing out a laugh. “That’s alright. I kinda missed him.”

Sirius chuckled, and your smile widened. This felt easy—this was good. You were so worried that, after all this time, you wouldn’t know how to act around each other. You were so afraid that Sirius would walk around the flat like a ghost of the man who once called it home. But he didn’t. It only took him a few hours to start cracking jokes, brushing his fingers against yours. 

It wasn’t perfect—neither of you expected it to be. 

But it gave you hope. Sirius was going to be okay. You both were going to be okay. And you’d get there together.

—

A/N - Hi! Again, I'm so sorry for the wait. I honestly don’t love the outcome of this, but I figured I’d finish it anyways. I loved this request, and I just kept coming back to it and adding it. Hopefully this is what you were looking for, sorry if it’s shit. Thanks for the request :)

#sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black x you #sirius black angst #sirius black x reader #the marauders #marauders x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter #right where you left me #taylor swift #folklore

[assaily]

Hi, it's been a while. I'm here to feed the fandom with some fic snippets. I've been having some of the worst creative block of my life this last year but I've made it another rotation around the sun today so I thought I would share what I have been working on.

Working title: Something Delicate Something (still working on it obvs) Colloquial title: Buffalo Wild Wings Main themes: Vulnerability and accepting help

This is from the silly little wing-fic I occasionally tease about. Wings are a rare genetic mutation that only occurs in a small percentage of the population, so Klaus is the only other one besides Five who has wings. People aren't born with wings, but grow them during adolescence. Five is about to grow his but he's the only one that knows that, but his siblings may or not suspect something. When he grew them in the apocalypse, they emerged with one weak, broken, and useless (because he was starving and alone). They were a burden on him his whole life, a point of weakness. The Commission removes them when they picked him up, a cultural taboo that Five is convinced was a necessary procedure. He's afraid to tell his brothers about his wings, afraid to share that vulnerability with them.

Takes place about a year and half to two years after they save the world and return to a timeline much like their original. Five has a large mental break before this part of the story that spurs his brothers into taking better care of him. Five doesn't know how to feel about being taken care of like that.

Klaus did think he was an angel, going so far as to exclaim it loudly for the whole house to hear when he offered the half-cream-half-coffee. He was nearly done molting now, most of his flight feathers coming back in at once, but he was sleeping for periods of twelve hours or more.

Klaus complained about how exhausted he was and how badly the poor things itched. Five patiently brushed oils into the new feathers and carefully picked the loose ones coming out. Klaus had the misfortune of both having large wings and having a molt that happened in one big collapse. It meant a mess.

So while his brother sat in the nest of blankets, pillows, and feathers in his room sipping his cream, Five acquired a broom and started the great clean-up task. Approximately twenty-eight minutes after Five woke him up, Klaus started his stereo, playing something with a gentle piano at a medium volume so it filtered out into the hallways for Five.

It’s easy to work to, and Five lost himself into a rhythm of sweeping and piling the dark tawny feathers together. The sun was peeking in through the windows when Klaus came out to take his empty cup downstairs for a refill. He came back up fifteen minutes later with two mugs and Diego with a much larger broom in company.

“Back up has arrived,” Klaus said cheerily, trading Five the refilled mug for his broom. “Go sit down or something, me n’ Diego can finish this.”

Five only relinquished the broom because Klaus wordlessly threatened to keep the coffee hostage until he did. “I can finish,” he groused, taking a sip and getting instantly distracted. Klaus had been getting very good with a french press lately, and Five was coming to appreciate it. Based on the twinkle in his brother’s eyes as he watched Five drink his coffee, Klaus knew just how good at it he was getting. 

“Go, shoo, we got this. You’ve done enough.”

Five turned his attention to Diego, standing silently by watching the two of them interact like an onlooker at the zoo. “How’d you get roped up into this?”

Diego shrugged, failing to smother a smirk. “Klaus was telling me what a good doting brother you’ve been lately, and we both decided you needed to take a break.”

Five squinted at him, suspicion stirred by the smirk. “Taking care of this idiot,” he jabbed a thumb at Klaus. “Is probably the least stressful thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Aww, thanks,” Klaus said sincerely from where he’d started tidying up Five’s already made piles. 

“Still,” Diego said, something false about his casually friendly smile, but Five still wasn’t good enough with faces to identify the issue. He sidled up to him, switching the broom from one hand to the other. “It’s so nice of you to help.”

Klaus glanced back at them and straightened with a jolt, Diego’s name forming around his lips. Five sensed more than saw Diego’s palm coming to slap him on the back, and abruptly he understood what the ploy was.

Five would have preferred to save his coffee, but the rage that bubbled up from the pit of his stomach chose vengeance instead. The mug likely broke, spilling really good coffee all across the hallway, but the only one who got to see it was Klaus. Diego ended up being dropped from the second story into an open dumpster two blocks over– it was the closest open dumpster Five knew about, and would force him to walk back covered in trash. Five himself landed on a fire escape just long enough to make sure he hadn’t accidentally hurt Diego, before popping back to his room.

It was silly to be so mad about it, about practically nothing at all, but his hands still shook as he tore into his wardrobe for clean clothes and a towel. A hot bath would help him feel better, the steam would ease the headache drilling into the back of his skull and down his spine. Then he would take a nap, and if anyone had an ounce of self-preservation, he would remain undisturbed.

Of course, none of his brothers had self-preservation, or brain cells. Except maybe Viktor, but he and his lonely brain cell were woefully absent. Klaus was waiting for him in his room when he returned from his bath. He was glad he had the foresight to put a shirt on, but he’d really had hope for that nap.

“What do you want?”

“What, you’re up in my grill for a week and now you want nothing to do with me?”

“I wasn’t ‘up in your grill’. If you didn’t want me to help, you could have told me to go away. In fact you did, so I filled my schedule, I have shit to do, get out.”

“Okay, grumpy, jeez,” Klaus put his hands up, jumping up off the bed when Five came at him, threatening to use his damp towel as a weapon. “Is your back okay?”

“It’s fine,” he snapped.

“Really, cause Diego was gone for like half an hour, and he came back smelling like a dumpster, so I’m just wondering if he hurt you or something because that was really dramatic–”

“Get. Out.” He punctuated his point by snapping the towel loudly.

“Okayeeee!” Klaus yelped, leaping toward the door with an obscene cackle born of hysterical fear. Complete lack of self-preservation. If Five ever made that much noise while in danger, he would have been dead a hundred times over.

Five slammed the door shut behind him, closing his eyes and listening to his brother hover outside for about forty seconds before leaving. When Klaus finally shuffled away, Five let go the breath he was holding, scrubbing at his face.

He hadn’t slept much last night, or most nights. Less so lately with his back beginning to hurt so much. If Diego had touched him, the gig might have been up, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to hide his reaction. The uncontrollable rage was just a side effect of all the hormones his body was releasing, but he was also usually an asshole, so he didn’t think his siblings would notice the difference.

“Dramatic,” he echoed to himself. Sending Diego two blocks over and into a dumpster was a little dramatic, but the other option was the pond in the park a mile and half west of the academy. It seemed like an unnecessarily large expenditure of power to send him all that way, so Diego got the shorter, dryer walk. So really, Five wasn’t as dramatic as he could have been.

And if Klaus really saw that as just an innocent pat on the back, he was lying to himself and to Five. Diego was checking for lumps, or at least a reaction if he hit him hard enough. The lumps weren’t in yet but his back was already showing signs of the blood bruising, and was getting tender to all hell.

He’d done this all before, he knew what to expect, and this time would be a hell of a lot easier because of it. He didn’t need them losing their goddamn minds and crawling down his throat because Mom wasn’t here anymore and couldn’t take care of him like she would have Klaus. Five didn’t need to burden them with it either. He survived the first time, and he would again.

He made sure his door was locked before he went back to his bed and collapsed onto his stomach. He was still warm from his bath, and the last few days had been long and sleepless. He dozed off quickly, but didn’t sleep for long, carved awake as the infant growths under his skin pushed and shifted at his shoulder blades from beneath.

-

Diego was in the kitchen again when Five went down for food hours later. Luther was there too, but his gaze didn’t zero in on Five the second he appeared like Diego’s did.

“Oh look it’s the asshole who dropped me in a dumpster for offering to help.”

“Why are you still here? Don’t you have a job or something?”

“It’s my day off. Not that you would know, freeloader.”

“Child labor laws, idiot. I couldn’t get a job even if I wanted to.” Besides, he’d been pawning off some of the antiques their father had laying around so he wasn’t relying on his siblings’ wallets for luxury purchases. He mostly sold stuff out of the attic so he was sure none of them had noticed anything missing yet.

“Okay, look I just want to eat dinner in peace, please,” Luther interrupted. “Five, there’s a container for you in the fridge, I didn’t know when you’d be down for it so I stuck it in there, but it should still be hot.”

Five’s stomach growled at him at the prospect of food, smoothly digressing off the brewing spat with Diego. He turned to dig in the fridge, finding a plastic container with his name on it in Luther’s neat handwriting. If it wasn’t labeled, Klaus would eat it. He was surprisingly respectful of labeled containers, however, so Luther had gotten very anal about making sure everything of Five’s was labeled. It forced him to eat it or give it away, which then alerted one of them to the fact that he hadn’t eaten it.

A convenient monitoring system for his brothers, a pain in the ass for Five. Though, and he would never admit it, sometimes he would pop down to the kitchen whenever everyone managed to be out of the house but him, and root through his labeled containers like a raccoon with his favorite garbage. 

Five pried the lid off his container, broccoli beef with white rice. Fried foods grossed him out more than he would have liked to admit, but the only one that actually cared was Klaus, who thought it was sacrilege, but then helped himself to all of Five’s portions of the fried take-out Luther always brought home. Luther cottoned on quick and made sure to order him the white rice.

While he worked for the Commission, Five had to be careful what he ate because his stomach couldn’t handle much after so many decades living off expired canned food and whatever he could grow. That was less of a problem now, he could even drink straight milk and oil if he wanted and his young, stout little body would digest it without so much as an ounce of indigestion. No, it was the fact that Five had gone so long without salt and basic spices, that even the beef gravy mixed with the plain rice was still intensely salty to him. Oily fried foods had a taste to them that Five struggled to stomach, instincts still telling him it would make him sick.

Besides, Five could afford the luxury of being picky these days, so he would be.

“Fork,” Luther said, even as Five started throwing pieces of broccoli into his mouth with his fingers. 

Diego snorted, shaking his head before tucking back into his noodle dish. He didn’t seem inclined to keep fighting, so Five sat down at the table opposite both of them after he got himself a fork from the drawer. 

Luther waited until they were all at least halfway through their meals before he started with a casual, “So, Five, it’s been ten days since you’ve last left the house.”

Five glared at him over his dinner. So much for eating peacefully.

“You know what that means,” Diego chimed in, looking a bit too smug at Five’s instant discomfort.

“I have library books that need to be returned anyway,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“I was actually hoping we could go somewhere besides the library.”

Five frowned down at his rice, pushing it around with his fork. His stomach had instantly gone up in knots, and he wished Luther hadn’t done this over dinner. It was hard enough to eat as it was. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, it’s been over a year since you’ve been to the doctor–”

“I would need an appointment, wouldn’t I? Don’t have one as far as I know.”

Luther puffed his cheeks out and inclined his head forward and to the side like he was ashamed of something. “I didn’t want to alarm you and have you spend the whole week overthinking it.”

A numbing buzz started in the tips of his fingers and began crawling through his palms and up his arms. “You made one,” he said faintly, feeling the blood drain from his face.

Diego grimaced, eyes darting between him and Luther. “It’s alright Five, we’ll both go with you. Klaus, too if you want.”

He swallowed thickly, the room around him narrowing down to pinprick sounds and details. The buzzing of the lamps, the tick and churn of the dishwasher, the faucet that no one had gotten around to tightening up, drip drip dripping into the sink below. His brothers, just across the table from him and miles and miles away, each breath they took like thunder in his ears.

“No one has to go, just tell me where it is.”

“I have to go. I’m your legal guardian, remember?” Luther said softly.

“I’m not going.”

“Five–”

“I’m not going.” And he refused to listen to whatever reasoning they had. He wasn’t dealing with it, not right now. He sent them both one final glare each before he blinked back upstairs.

He knew he would only have a few minutes before someone was at his door, Luther rarely backed down that easily when it came to getting Five out of the house, and there was no doubt in Five’s mind that Diego had been there as backup. He stepped toward the window and reappeared on the fire escape, then again on the roof.

He wasn’t thinking about his blinks, following line of sight so he didn’t have to do so much calculation, landing his final jump in the greenhouse on the roof. The setting sun shone through the opaque walls and cast his world in a gentle peachy orange. The smell of soil and dust was familiar and warm, and allowed him to take the deep breath his lungs desperately needed.

“The fucking doctor,” he spat. “They want me to go to the doctor? Now of all fucking times!” He rolled his shoulders without thinking, flaring pain from between his shoulder blades and down his spine. There was no way, the doctor would see the bruising, would no doubt want to examine his back–

He wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his clothes tight over his spine. “No,” he told the universe, the green house, his brothers downstairs that couldn’t hear him, and the theoretical doctor he’d never met. “Absolutly not, you’re not going to touch me, not without losing some fingers; go fuck yourselves. You can go fuck yourselves!”

-

He hid in the greenhouse until well after dark. When he finally went back to his room, his door was left wide open from where Luther had no doubt come barging in looking for him. His room otherwise dark and empty, or so he thought. He closed his door before he heard the rustle of feathers on his bed, scowling into the darkness

“I didn’t yell at you earlier about it, but you’re gonna get feathers on my bed.”

The lamp at his bedside popped on, Klaus stretched out across the mattress like a cat. “I heard you didn’t want to go to the doctor.”

Five scowled all the harder. “Don’t need it, you can’t make me, I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not going to have a stranger poking and prodding me and asking me if Luther has given me the sex talk yet.”

Klaus let out a surprised wheeze of a laugh. “No, alright, that’s fair. You didn’t object this badly last time, was it really that bad?”

It really hadn’t been. The doctors who thought he was an actual thirteen year old treated him with a hell of a lot more respect than any doctor he had had the misfortune of dealing with when he worked for the Commission. “Yes,” he answered anyway.

Klaus raised an eyebrow, seeing right through him. “No, tell me what’s really going on, Five.”

#tua #tua fic #the draft falls apart after this #i think i got all the notes to myself but i may have missed one or two #eventually i'll get around to finishing this one #the umbrella academy #fanfic #fanfiction #tua fanfic #five hargreeves #number five #wing fic

[starhvney]

may I request a platonic Nana/KC with fem reader at a sleepover? :) binging anime and doing eachothers make up and she's low-key emotional because it's been awhile since a friend has had an interest in her directly and especially her interests,, I always felt bad she was usually pushed aside for being weird :(

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘, 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘?

��𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet nana ashida & fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: ‘part of me will know deep down that i am pretty cool. part of me that knows i never cared for being cool.’

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, platonic, a bit of reverse hurt/comfort, nana being a sweetie cutie patootie

𝐂𝐖: none?

𝐀/𝐍: kinda short but i really love and in some ways relate to nana, so this was really lovely to write :’) i also got sad when other characters just saw her as weird. also, when writing this i was like, oh yeah! binging anime and baking!! and after i finished writing the fic i read that you wrote makeup ;( i hope you still like it!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

the sweet smell of fresh baked goods permeated through the kitchen as the warmth of the oven surrounded you like a warm and familiar hug. you and nana stand side by side, frozen in place as the two of you zone out at the tv you had moved to the counter. its screen plays an episode of a shoujo anime, one that nana had persuaded you to watch with her. 

you flinch when you realize you stuck your hand too far into the mixing bowl, your fingers slowly sinking into the freshly made dough instead of rolling it into balls like you were supposed to. 

a squeal leaves nana’s lips as she jumps up and down in excitement, hugging onto your arm with a grin. you glance back at the screen to see that the love interest had finally kissed the main character.

“it only took, what, twelve episodes?” you giggle, earning a huff and nudge from the pink-haired girl.

“hey, this is a special moment, okay! wasn’t it cute?”

“yes, yes. it was super cute,” you concede. “i really liked that one! you have good taste.” 

“i’m glad,” she turns her attention back down to the heart-shaped cake she was frosting. “...my interests can be a little weird, but i’m glad you like them.”

you turn to her curiously, noticing her strange change of tone and how the baked good in front of her suddenly was much more interesting than anything else in the room.

“i don’t think they’re weird.” you insist, attention drawn to how her tail anxiously flicked back and forth.

“i just mean most people think i’m kind of strange,” she says, waving her hand dismissively as if it were no big deal. “my hobbies aren’t really… normal.”

you wrinkle your nose, eyebrows furrowing.

“what’s “normal”, anyway?” nana’s round eyes flick back to you, her expression taken aback. “sounds boring.”

she lets out a quiet laugh suddenly, covering her mouth before looking down at the cake with a distant smile on her face.

“yeah, i guess i never really wanted to fit in anyways.”

the two of you continue to bake in comfortable silence, letting the soft hum of the tv fill your ears as you both focus on your tasks. the setting sun shines through the windows, casting an orange glow on both of your faces. when the episode ends, nana softly sets down her butter knife, turning to look at you. as your eyes meet hers, you’re shocked at the emotion you find in them, molten gold glistening as tears gather on the surface.

“i’m so glad you’re my friend,” lean hands reach out for yours, cupping them in an earnest show of appreciation. “i hope you know how much you mean to me.”

you squeeze her hands back, eyes widening as you try to think of a response to her sudden affection.

“i feel like i can really be myself around you. people have always brushed off my interests and called them silly, but you genuinely care. thank you.”

“of course, nana,” you pull her into a hug. “you’re one of the kindest and most interesting friends i’ve ever had.”

she sniffles and clears her throat, pulling from the hug to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen from her lashes.

“really?” her voice is small, tight with surprised uncertainty.

you tilt your head, giving her a soft smile.

“yeah… i actually was gonna say we should do this more often. you know, have sleepovers like this where we try out a new hobby we’re interested in.”

“really, really?!” her eyes light up in elation, her sentiment quickly shifting into pure excitement once again. “you’d want to try crochet? and dollmaking? are you sure?”

“uh, duh! that sounds like so much fun.”

she squeals in happiness, engulfing you in another hug and spinning you both around in the kitchen. the smell of her vanilla and strawberry-scented perfume filled your nose, a scent that she had donned and owned since high school.

"we should make a list!"

after spinning and giggling a bit longer, you two soon returned to your previous activities, debating if the second male lead was a better choice or not while munching on your freshly baked sweet treats.

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

#aphmau mystreet #mystreet x reader #x reader #mystreet #nana ashida #nana ashida & reader #mystreet kawaii chan #kawaii chan #aphmau kc #aphmau nana #aphmau kawaii chan

[latibvles]

So Sad, Beautiful, Tragic has turned a year old today — which is absolutely insane to think about for a plethora of reasons. And I tried to think of things to do, before eventually settling on this celebratory inbox game, and a very simple thank you.

Contrary to its title, this story has brought me… great joy, in the past year. I started it at a considerable low point in my life, mentally. It started as an escape — to think about someone so starkly distant from myself, to make mistakes and have them be forgiven. I wanted a story about forgiveness, about friendship, about resilience.

What I got was a very kind community around me and some very lovely friends who pick me up even unknowingly. Which is honestly more than a girl could ask for.

The last longfic I ever wrote was in 2019, and to this day it remains unfinished on its little corner of the internet. Just twelve chapters of unfinished fanfiction. If you told me a year ago that a story that was never supposed to leave my drafts would end up fifty chapters long, with people who comment regularly on it, who share the same enthusiasm for it that I do? I’d call you insane. But here we are. And I’m happy to be here :)

I do want to thank some specific people though, because where would I be without this community?

@softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs , @liebgotts-lovergirl and @mercurygray : be it once or like five times, whether it’s a deciding pivotal plot detail , beta-reading, or just trying to name a chapter title , I’ve messaged all of you at one point and you’ve lended me your ear to spitball and find the next turn for the story to take. You’re all lovely friends to have, and when I think of the people who’ve helped this story along the way, you’re the first people that come to mind.

@galaxialuz , @mads-weasley , and @the-cinnamontography-is-amazing : my serial rebloggers / commenters , everytime you all comment on the story or reblog I gain ten years of life. Your reactions are some of the ones I look forward to the most. Seriously, eternally grateful to know how much you love the story, and to those of you who may comment on AO3 who’s users I simply don’t have : this is an acknowledgment for you too! Comments and RBs make the world go around and I’m so thankful for all of mine <3

@almost-a-class-act , @cody-helix02 , @wexhappyxfew , @derry-rain , @shoshiwrites , and @we-band-of-brothers : For letting me bang my pot and my pan, senselessly and loudly, about anything and everything that has to do with this fic of mine. I come strolling into messages going “GUYS BUT DAISY!!!!” and to be met with the same enthusiasm is a really lovely thing. Seriously, for someone who’s been told to, ahem, be quiet about their OCs several times, knowing that I have people who will listen whether it’s an AU I had in mind, a chapter I finished, or mindless rambling is such a gift.

And I am thanking you, person reading this post, for making it this far! Whether you’re a passive reader or one commenting on every chapter or just someone who happened upon this particular post, thanks for giving my words the time of day!

All of this to say: thank you for the support, thank you for the community you’ve let me into, thank you for every bookmark, and like, and reblog, and message. thank you to my anonymous pals and known ones alike — thank you for showing this story the support and love that you have. SBT isn’t perfect, but it is mine, and I’m proud of it, and it means the world to know that something I have created and put into the world is very very loved.

#poet’s gallery #. sbt gallery #poe’s pals #. sbt’s one year #band of brothers

[ablogcalledrevenge]

Potential (A General Hux x Reader Insert Multi-Chapter Fic, Rated M)

AO3 Link

Chapter Twelve

“And she’s so powerful Master, perhaps even more than the scavenger. She’s completely untrained but I could help hone her skills. It’s just so strange to me that I wasn’t able to sense it.” Kylo finishes, breathing heavily in his excitement. 

While the most important part was that you had this new power to learn and wield, Kylo was also secretly pleased that he would no longer be alone. The Force was a very isolating thing, especially for those more in tune with the Dark Side. Knowing there was someone else who could understand his feelings and struggles was comforting. Plus, it would be fun to mess around with Hux.

“Of course you weren’t able to sense it boy, I didn’t want you to.” Snoke says, interrupting his daydreams. Silence fills the chamber and it echoes. 

“You knew? The whole time? Why didn’t you say anything? Is that what you spoke to her about that night?” Kylo asks, growing more and more angry. Snoke just watches with mild bemusement, like Kylo is a small child getting mad that his parent lied about having sweets.

“We could’ve been helping her this whole time! She got hurt, Supreme Leader, she was in agony! We could’ve stopped that and stopped Pryde. She could’ve died and then Palpatine would be back!” Kylo shouted at his Master, feeling the slow, slimy crawl of darkness fill him up.

“Oh come now boy, do you really think Pryde’s pathetic plan would have worked? It was flawed from the start and lacking in past proven success. While the Light Side allows those who’ve passed to communicate with others still living, the Dark Side, especially that of a Sith, deals in absolutes. Death is death. He let his desire for power blind him to common sense.”

“Then why did we not stop him earlier and prevent the waste of time and resources? Why Master? Why put us through this?” He responds looking up at Snoke. Since the attack on Exegol, the Supreme Leader had made a visit to the Finalizer. Normally he has guards around him at all times, imposing figures dressed in all red. But he is alone, alone with Kylo.

Despite being old and sallow, he intimidated Kylo. He felt cowed in his presence, like an animal trying to hide in the corner of a cage. Clearly his Master knew more than he let on and deemed Kylo unworthy of the information.

“Because I needed to know where your loyalties lie!” Snoke roared, standing up from his throne. His student recoiled back.

“I am loyal to you Master, you know this! Ever since I was a child when you called to me. Why would I betray you? Your goals are my goals and I seek to serve you and learn from you. I wish to make you proud.” Kylo pleaded.

“Do you think I am blind Master Ren, or perhaps that I am merely stupid? Do you think I didn’t see the way you trailed after that insipid girl like a lost dog? Did you think that I was unaware of the relationship that started with the General? I’ve known the whole time and your behavior has been an embarrassment.” Snoke sneered, returning to his seat. He fumed for a moment, his already thin lips pulling tighter in fury.

“I am aware of General Hux’s desires for power and glory and before I found them easily managed. But now, his wife, like all vile women I’ve come to know, has poisoned his mind. She inflates his ego and aids his progress in a way that concerns me. She may bat her eyes and act innocent but she is vicious. Her goals far outweigh the General’s and I have no doubt that should he prove useless, she will get rid of him. Did you think yourself so special that she would treat you differently?” He continues, drumming his long, skeletal fingers on the arm of his chair.

“… What?” Kylo whispers into the still air of the chamber. One would think they were all frozen statues with how little they moved. No breeze ruffled their robes. No speck of dust floated through the air. The large chamber, despite being practically empty, felt like a vacuum.

A look of pity crossed Snoke’s face before morphing into a twisted attempt at glee. Not because he was trying to be kind and spare Kylo’s feelings, but more because such a pleasant expression had never graced his sunken face before.

“I don’t believe it. I thought you were smarter than that. Did you really think they liked you? That she meant all the things she’s been whispering in your ear? She chose you from the start to be a pawn in her game and your fate will probably go the way of all the other people she’s killed.”

Kylo made an odd choking noise he’d never heard himself make before.

“Are you truly that braindead? Did you think those deaths were all coincidences? She might have painted a pretty picture for the unwashed masses but I thought I’d trained you better than that. She wants to usurp me and our Brotherhood. She wants to dismantle the First Order and take everyone down with it.”

“You’re wr-wrong.” Kylo stammered out, his face red with shame. The hot slide of the Force turned to ice in his veins. Snoke scoffed.

“She doesn’t love you Kylo. Neither of them do. They are monsters, incapable of love. And you are too. I allowed this indiscretion to go on for a time, seeing how the passion made you stronger in your fighting. But now it’s gone too far. Love is for children and imbeciles! They are using you! They laugh at you when you leave them, thinking they’ve deceived you. They think they’ve deceived me!” He shouted, once again stepping off his platform and down towards Kylo.

Kylo’s vision was clouding, and Snoke’s words echoed in his ears. He started to look back on every interaction, examining them in a new light. He went over every kiss, every touch, every look for something sinister. Was it true? Was he that weak to jump at the chance of affection, even at his own risk?

The room felt like it was getting smaller, squeezing in on him. Snoke started to poke at his thoughts, paint them red and reveal the truth. The pain was immense and brought Kylo back to his childhood, crying under his bed after a scolding from his mother. Snoke had been there too, showing him the truth of his mother’s feelings. He showed him her disdain and her regrets. He showed him all the secret thoughts she had about her son. All through his life, Snoke had been there, molding him into the fierce warrior he was now.

And Kylo had failed.

The shame brought him to his knees. He had allowed himself to be lied to and manipulated. He had allowed simple pleasures of the flesh to override his devotion to the Force. Once again, he had tried to please his Master, bring more over to the Dark Side, and he had crashed and burned.

As humiliating as it was, he could move on from the scavenger. The Force was strong within her, but the Resistance had gotten to her first. She would be a worthy opponent.

But this, this cut him deep. This was no longer an issue of his pride or his teachings. This involved his heart. His distraction had nearly cost him his life.

Snoke approached him, the gold fabric of his robe coming into view. A cold hand rested gently on Kylo’s head.

“Your behavior has been disgraceful but not unexpected. You always did have a hard time removing your feelings from the situation. That’s why I’m here. To help you when you falter in your duties. She has used you and now must be stopped. You’ve been ignoring your work long enough. You must return to your mission and find Luke Skywalker.” Snoke said, his voice quiet and calm. Kylo sniffed and stared at the floor.

Then the hand petting his head stopped, and though Snoke removed his grip, Kylo still felt his head wrenched up. Kylo was eye to eye with his Master and as much as he wanted to look away, he could not move.

“You know what to do Kylo Ren, you know how to stop this. You can never complete your training if you allow others to manipulate you. Use the Force and follow your path. Show your loyalty and kill those who stand in your way.” Snoke declared, loosening his phantom grip and letting Kylo fall to the floor like a doll.

The edge of his lightsaber cut into his hip and his hand twitched. He had to speak with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Kylo had left two hours ago, he had sat you down in front of a candle and told you to meditate. You’d focused your breathing like he’d shown you and kept the candle in sight. Kylo had said that meditation would not only help you understand and communicate with the Force but it would also help lessen the pain and lower the volume.

You were both surprised and not to find that he was right. It wasn’t that you thought Kylo was lying about his skills or knowledge, but you were worried that they wouldn’t work for you. No one had realized you were strong with the Force so who’s to say the training would even work? But it was.

The headache you’d had since you woke up in the medbay was receding every day, more so on days you meditated or practiced simple drills. When Kylo made you close your eyes and predict where a levitating ball was -or on one occasion, where he was going to kiss next- you felt proud. 

In those moments you understood and liked the Force. Hux was… well he wasn’t pleased exactly. But he let you and Kylo continue on and didn’t make a fuss. It was clear that he still regarded the Force with some skepticism but seeing the fundamentals being taught helped change his mind a little. The two people he cared most for in the galaxy were Force users, so he might as well just accept it.

So there you sat, legs crossed and breathing slow. The Force lay in front of you like a map, glowing lines intersecting and flowing over each other. There was a line connecting you and Hux, another going from you to outside the room towards Kylo probably, even one connecting Millie to you. And along each line, like the faintest glimmer, was the future. Or the possible future.

You saw worlds collapsing and expanding, empires rising and falling. Your own self seemed so minuscule in the will of the Force. The universe would continue on it’s path, only allowing you choices when it saw fit.

But there was a beauty in that, a release of responsibility. The Force didn’t care about you, it just connected you to others in the universe. So you would not care about it, you would continue as you were and only take nudges when they fit your vision. Still, getting to read people’s minds certainly wouldn’t hurt.

You released your breath and the candle went out, flooding your bedroom into darkness. That was enough introspection for a day. You changed out of your simple pants and shirt into the outfit you were planning on wearing for the evening. You and Hux were meeting a few officers for dinner and you wanted to show off your new dress. The dress was a gorgeous piece; black leather with enticing see through mesh and colorful floral embroidery. 

Glancing at the chronometer, you entered the living room, Millie resting peacefully on the couch while your darling finished his work. You needed to remind him of the time, so he could get ready as well. You still had to put your shoes on, but you would have your darling husband do that. The play at subjugation was always a fun little appetizer for the two of you.

Everything was quiet and easy and your brain relaxed as you waited.

It was into this calmness that Kylo burst in, his robes swirling around him like a storm. You didn’t need to sense his energy crackling around him to tell you he was in a mood. He looked furious and heartbroken and confused all at the same time. You and Hux both remained where you were in shock; him at his desk, you by the couch.

“Kylo, is everything alright?” Hux asked, setting aside his datapad. Kylo didn’t reply and instead removed his outer robe, letting it drop to the floor. His dark gaze bounced around the room, catching on random things and never staying for long. He looked at Hux for a long moment, your husband standing from his chair to perhaps embrace Kylo. But the expression on Kylo’s face made him falter.

Then he looked at you.

The sweet smile you greeted him with slid off your face as you felt yourself lift off the ground. You were being pulled up by your neck, the pressure getting tighter and tighter with each inch you rose.

“Kylo, what’s going on?! What are you doing? Put her down! Stop!” Hux yelled, racing over to Kylo to get him to stop. He pushed at the other man’s body, tried to pull his arm down where it extended in a claw towards you. But Kylo may as well have been a mountain for all that he moved.

Your feet were dangling, toes no longer anywhere near the floor, and your hands in their leather gloves scrabbled at your neck. You could feel Kylo’s grip, clear as any other time he had so lovingly touched your neck. But your fingers scratched at air, your throat convulsing by invisible means.

Tears rolled down your reddening face as you choked out Kylo’s name, begging him to stop. Hux ran to you, hands fluttering with uselessness.

“Kylo stop, please! I don’t understand! Why are you doing this?” He cried, turning pale.

“You lied to me! You were always lying to me! You’ve been using me! You don’t love me, you never have! The Supreme Leader showed me the truth. You used me and as soon as I would’ve  stopped helping you, you would’ve killed me. Killed me like all the others!” Kylo shouted, ignoring Hux entirely.

Your eyes, which had been pleading only moments before, turned hard and steely at the accusation. Seeing the change, and perhaps thinking it a confirmation, Kylo released you.

You dropped into your husband’s arms, gasping and coughing. Hux grabbed a cup of water from the little decanter you kept on the table in front of the couch, pouring you a drink.

“What the kriff are you talking about? We haven’t been lying! Of course we care about you!” Hux told him, his eyes blazing with rage. Yes, he did care about Kylo, but not enough to instantly forgive for almost killing you!

Just like that, an argument started, both men screaming in each other’s faces. Screaming about lies and loyalties and love and betrayal and plans and secrets. Kylo was revealing your plan step by step while Hux, bless him, was justifying it on every turn while attempting to place all the blame on himself. Poor Millie had run towards your bedroom, tail tucked between her legs.

“Enough.”

The word struck like a bell, silencing both men. During their flight you had regained your senses,

standing gracefully in front of the transparisteel window. Your voluminous gown stood out against the navy of space and you touched once at your throat to center yourself. 

“You’re right. That is my plan. I did kill all those people. I’m going to remove Hux’s superiors to place him in a position of authority. A role where no one is above him or controls him. I am going to make him Emperor. That’s all true.” You admit slowly, voice scratchy from the abuse. But it does not waver, even in the face of Kylo’s rage.

Hux lets out a sigh and sinks into one of the armchairs, his hand coming up to rub across his chin. His eyes switch between you and Kylo, worry creasing underneath.

“So you would kill me too? Strike me down if I was in your way?” Kylo sneers.

“Yes. But not anymore. My plans have altered slightly.” You admit with a shrug. Ever since Hux’s accident you’ve allowed yourself some flexibility. While you do want to stick to your goals, now you’ve discovered that some people are more important.

“That doesn’t matter! You still lied to me! You still brought me here to control me and use me! You never cared for me, never lo-loved me!” He shouts, pointing a finger at you.

“Oh grow up Kylo! That’s what love is! Being in love means being used, being controlled. I use Hux, he uses me! Did you think I married him merely for his looks? No, I knew his connections and position in the First Order would suit my goals. He did the same. Sure, I’m a beautiful woman with a sparkling personality but I also had family wealth and connections to Imperial planets. We chose each other for specific reasons and love followed. So to act annoyed because I picked you out first and then came to adore you is childish.”

“It’s true, we weren’t honest about our intentions at first, but is that so awful? You’re part of us now. Would you have come to us had you known the truth? Would you be happier without us? Have we ever treated you poorly, made you feel used?” Hux asked, his voice a calm break between the two of you starting to shout. Kylo started like he forgot Hux was there.

“And furthermore, how did we use you? What did we make you do? What did we ask of you? We kept you away from our plans on purpose. We didn’t want you getting involved.” He adds, a tone of sweetness entering his voice. It’s one that rarely appears but it seems to do the job of soothing Kylo slightly.

“I, I don’t understand. What was your plan for me? You say you chose me but for what? To warm your bed and nothing else? If that were true then why did Snoke confront you? Why involve me and not tell me the truth?” Kylo begs, stepping closer to you, reaching both hands into his hair to pull in frustration.

“Because you need to kill Snoke.”

The air in the room stills as your words land like bombs. Hux sucks in a nervous breath and Kylo drops his hands.

“You would have me kill my Master? Kill the Supreme Leader?” He whispers, as if afraid of saying the words too loud and making them real.

“Hux cannot be Emperor if Snoke rules over him. The Supreme Leader is old and weak and doesn’t care about the actual people he’s ruling over. All he cares about is the Force and eradicating the Jedi.” You reply, the cold expanse of space behind you.

“That is an important and noble cause!”

“Like hell it is! What does it matter if Skywalker still lives? He’s off on some rock somewhere being a recluse! It wasn’t until you started looking for him, on Snoke’s orders, that he became a problem. Snoke told you to try and convert the scavenger to the Dark Side and you failed and now she’s with the Resistance! She’s probably getting trained by Skywalker himself. You did this to yourself! Snoke’s foolhardy desire to get rid of the perceived threat of the Jedi caused the most powerful one to come out of retirement! He’s an idiot and so are you!” You shout, holding up your hand when Kylo tries to interrupt. You take a long sip of your water.

“For years Snoke has sent you on wild hawk-bat chases, going after old men and ghosts. He has diverted money and resources away from the First Order to complete his unnecessary missions. The skills of the Knights of Ren are legendary and he has been wasting them! He is not only wasting your time but your talent! I am only a beginner in the ways of the Force, I admit that, but even I can see that your mind reading skills and athletics are better suited for covert missions and interrogation. Instead you’re off playing hide and seek with people who do not wish to be found.”

“And why? Why Kylo? Why does he send you? Send your knights? If Snoke is so powerful, so wise, why doesn’t he do it? Because to be honest my love, had you failed me as much as you failed him, I wouldn’t keep giving you things to do. He’s distracting you, keeping you busy. He’s occupying your time so you never realize the truth. He gives you impossible tasks and berates you when you falter, pulling at your leash like a feral Neks when you try to do something by yourself. If anyone is using you, it is him, not me.”

Kylo sputters and laughs in a short, disbelieving way. He steps closer to you once more, forcing you to back up against the window, the cool glass making you hiss. Hux stands up from his chair but does not move further, knowing he is out of his depth between you and Kylo.

“If you’re so wise, so all knowing in the Force, ten steps ahead of everyone, then tell me: what is he distracting me from?” His voice is smooth like silk, gliding over your face and neck as he approaches you.

There is something predatory in his eyes, assessing and bright. You do not cower from him though your heart is pounding fast. You wonder if the sound is escaping your chambers, it seems so loud.

“From your true power. From the natural conclusion of your training. From questioning him. You are the Master of the Knights of Ren, and yet where is your authority? What choices are you allowed to oversee?” You explain, raising your hand slowly to rest against Kylo’s chest. Your fingers flex against the hard leather of his tunic.

“I run missions and lead battles all the time. I have plenty of control over myself and my Knights. You know nothing of the work I do for the Supreme Leader. You know nothing of the Dark Side!” He spits back, his eyes searching your face.

“I know more than you realize. You think I’d go into this blind, just doing whatever you tell me? If I’m going to have to deal with the Force, I’m going to learn about it all. True, I haven’t gotten through all of it and I doubt I ever will, but I know about the Light and Dark Sides of the Force. And yet… and yet you are neither.”

You catch your husband’s eye and beckon him forward with your other hand, below Kylo’s waist. He slopes up gracefully hovering near Kylo’s back but not touching.

“Why did Snoke teach you the ways of the Force, grab you away from your childhood and bring you into the Dark Side, and then not allow you to reach your fullest potential? Why refuse the moniker of Sith when that’s so clearly what he is?” You say, dropping your voice down into the register you use in the bedroom. Your hand slides up Kylo’s chest to his neck, playing with the tiny wisps of hair at his nape. Hux joins you, wrapping an arm around Kylo’s waist from behind and bringing the other up to replace yours on his chest. Kylo’s eyes have gone a little hazy, confused in how he got into this position but sinking deeply into serenity. He’s certainly not mad anymore and you’d take it.

“The Dark Side of the Force is rigid and hard to maintain. He wanted more flexibility for himself… and for us.” Kylo murmurs as Hux reaches below his belt and heavy tunic to caress at Kylo’s stomach underneath.

“But he won’t offer you the same flexibility. Why, when you have difficulty with a style or lesson does he not adapt and change? Give you the same kindness he extends to himself.”

A spark of comprehension lights in Kylo’s eyes. Seizing the moment, you quickly grip Kylo’s hair and pull his head back, Hux pushing at his back and legs to get him down on the floor between you. He kneels before you, neck straining from your pull, eyes once again furious. You smile at him, and it is wicked.

“Because the final act of a Sith is to kill their Master.”

Kylo wrenches away from you, a few of his dark hairs still trapped in your fist. He grabs his helmet and cowl by the door.

“You are wrong! My Master is wise in all things and has plans I can’t even conceive of. He has plans for me, he wants to help me. He has been raising me to my true potential since I was a child! I will not kill him!” He shouts and you fear momentarily for anyone passing by. The chambers are mostly sound proof but Kylo has a loud, commanding voice. You raise your voice right back.

“He has been manipulating you since you were a child! He has been hurting you since you were a child! Had you proven a bad student, he would’ve found another. He has never cared for you! If he did, he would’ve left you alone.” You shoot back, surprised to find wetness growing in your vision. Doesn’t he see what he means to you? How you’ve grown and changed?

“Kylo please, I love you so much. We love you and want you with us. We want to save the Galaxy, make it better. We need your help. We need your knowledge and skill and leadership over your knights. When I make Hux Emperor, you shall have freedom to do as you please. You can do whatever you want for us, with us. Snoke would never let you go! That’s why you must kill him. You need to take your rightful place, just like Hux will. It’s what I always wanted for you.” You add, trailing off quietly towards the end. The tears are really falling now and Hux comes to your side, reaching for your hand. 

“At the end of the day, it’s your decision Kylo. But someone is going to die when this ends. It’s your choice who.” Your husband says, his voice clear and his words final.

With that, Kylo gives you one last glare and storms out of your apartment. The door closes quietly behind him. You and Hux remain standing, tears streaming down your face, and hope that you didn’t just ruin everything.

You almost cancel your dinner plans but decide against it. Kylo needs time and you might as well eat a good meal before your death. It’s agony, trying to make friendly conversation while a pendulum hangs over your head, but you are the perfect hostess which means being the perfect guest. You are witty and charming, laughing at jokes and gazing lovingly at your husband. He remains mostly quiet and pleasant, leaving the communication mostly to you.

After a long dinner, you are finally free of company and return to your apartments. Millie has been fed and you both collapse on the couch. Hux pours you both a glass of whiskey and you sip next to each other, dread returning. Kylo doesn’t return after one glass or the next.

Eventually, you go to bed. Neither of you talk much, lying next to each other under the blankets. Hux reaches across the expanse and holds your hand. It makes your heart soar with affection and you kiss him sweetly. Declarations of love get whispered between you and you fall into an uneasy sleep.

You’re only a few hours into the sleep cycle when the front door opens with a beep. As if waiting for a signal, you and Hux spring out of bed. You trail behind Hux as he enters the sitting room, your simple blue nightgown fluttering around you.

Kylo is there, helmet off, lightsaber engaged, and breathing heavily. He stalks towards you and for a moment your head is empty. You are going to die and the realization freezes you in your tracks.

Then he disengages his lightsaber and lets it drop onto the floor with a clang. He extends his arm, previously behind his back, and drops Snoke’s mangled head on the carpet. He looks exhausted, skin pale and drawn. There is blood on his face by his temple. 

Then he falls to the floor as well, both of you reaching forward at the last second to catch him. Blood stains your hands where they press against his chest. Hux quickly removes Kylo’s uniform, inhaling sharply at the sight of blood and gore on his chest. There was a battle clearly and Hux whistles for Messy. The mouse droid zooms over and Hux makes a request for medical supplies. You have some in your chambers but Kylo will probably need more than your paltry supply. He needs to go to the medbay, something Hux keeps saying but Kylo shakes his head.

“I did it, it’s done. Snoke is dead. The Knights have pledged to me and only me. I’m free.” Kylo breathes out, voice scratchy. Hux looks at you in shock. You had hoped that Kylo would choose you, would follow your plan, and now he had.

Snoke was dead. There was nothing standing in your way. Kylo could pronounce The Supreme Leader dead in the morning and Hux could be crowned by the afternoon. It was done, you were finished.

“Kylo, you miraculous boy!” Hux croons, pushing away his sweaty hair and kissing his temple.

While your husband worked on treating Kylo’s wounds, labored breaths and hisses of pain accompanied by soothing nonsense, you sat on the floor in a heap.

All the lying and killing and deceiving could end. You had won. Your plan had worked. Hux was going to be Emperor! Hux… was going to be Emperor…

Kylo’s lightsaber rested by your knee, easily reachable. Snoke’s head lay nearby, his face in a frozen state of shock, eyes gone dim. The men were busy, occupied with other things but within your range. Your hands rested on your lap covered in blood, possibly Snoke’s, maybe Kylo’s. 

Your heartbeat slowed like it always did when you were facing a momentous decision. Your eyes swung back and forth between the lightsaber, the head, and your hands. The voices behind you faded to white noise.

The Force gave you a vision. Paths lighting up and expanding out from your hands.

You had won, your hard work had paid off. All your obstacles were gone. You could have everything you wanted. And more… You could have more. The weapon was in reach and by the time they realized what you were doing, they’d be dead. This was your plan, your idea! They had done their part and you didn’t need them anymore.

But you, you could do more. You could rise higher than thought possible, bringing the Galaxy to it’s knees. They were only men; easily distracted and disposed of. You could kill them now and have it all.

The First Order would obey you, Phasma’s troops falling in line at your show of cunning. The Knights would respect you, ruthlessly taking the opportunity. Men were weak and you were strong. You were better than them, better than everyone! You could be Empress of all, ruling for centuries!

All you had to do was pick up the lightsaber and cut their throats. All you had to do was kill them. It would be easy, they’d barely feel a thing. You could do it without breaking a sweat. You could spin a story to make yourself look good, give yourself deniability. You could become a God, rule the First Order and then the Galaxy!

You could kill them. You could kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them! KILL THEM! KILL THEM!

KILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLKILLKILL

You screamed then, air rushing into your lungs as you fell forward into your lap, bloody hands pushed outward.

“I can’t do it, I won’t do it! Don’t make me, I don’t want to! Get this off me! Get it off! Please, I don’t want to. I love you, I could never, I don’t want to.” You cry out, Hux coming to you and pulling you gently into a more comfortable position against his chest. Kylo, now mostly stable, takes your hands and removes the blood. He is gentle and soft. He knows what you were thinking. 

“Together, together or not at all.” Kylo whispers, placing a reverent kiss on your clean palms. You sniffle and give a shaky smile. The vision fades away, just an idea that passes along.

“You have done so much and done it well, now we can relax and take our place in history. Relax my dear, rest now. It’s done.” Hux says into your ear and you nod, feeling yourself slump further into his embrace.

“It’s done.” You murmur back, repeating the phrase a few times, testing the weight on your tongue. It tastes delicious.

A laugh bubbles up in your chest then, loud and obnoxious. You can’t stop it and it escapes, echoing in the room and startling the men. A beat and then they follow, laughing along with you.

The laughter grows for a moment, a Stormtrooper passing by on patrol hearing it but paying it no mind.

Then it dissipates and the energy in the room settles. Hux lifts you in his arms and carries you back to bed, Kylo trailing behind, fist gently tugging on your nightgown.

You settle into sleep, your husband on one side and your lover on the other, and you drift away into peaceful nothingness. A smile is on your face.

Epilogue Coming Soon!

Tagging: @babbushka, @livy1391, @renaissance-mama, @girl-next-door-writes​, @peqchynero​, @niniita-ah, @the-temple-pythoness​, @cupofmoonlighttea​, @sincerely-cronch​, @potato-ren​, @brujademente​, @ah-callie​, @rosirinoa​, @lwtficrecs​, @theold-ultraviolence​, @mad-hatters-teapot​, @firstordermariposa, @revolution-starter, @shereadsinquiet, @isthisheaven5

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

#potential #star wars fanfiction #reader insert fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #general hux x reader #kylo ren x reader #general hux x reader x kylo ren #fanfiction #writing #after this is the epilogue and then we're done #sorry for the wait #life is crazy and hyperfixations come and go

[bisamwilson]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

also tagged by @writerkenna!!

thanks y'all for the love <3

5 fics + excerpts!

wish that i could wind (like a spiral stair through time)

“Five o’clock sharp every morning, baby,” he’d said, over half a century ago now, his voice weak and his bones weaker, holding onto Bucky’s far less wrinkled hand with all the strength he still had. “Early morning exercise is important for old men like us: keeps us living longer.” Bucky has lived fifty-two years, three months, and twelve days longer than Sam had ever gotten to, and, running his hand over Sam’s side of the bed, his favorite blanket kept pristine even after all these years, he thinks living longer is the last thing he’d ever want. He still gets up at five to exercise every day, though. After all, Sam had asked him to, and who is Bucky to deny Sam anything he asks, even all these years later.

2. my convenience store dream boy

The most definitely real heat gets stronger for just a moment, disappearing when Cap puts on a friendly smile. “Can’t say I pegged you for an optimist, Bucky,” he says, holding Bucky’s phone out. Bucky takes it back without looking away from his face. “I’m not, usually. Only when there’s something—or someone—worth inspiring my optimism.” Bucky’s probably gone too far on the side of “hammy,” but Cap’s still interested enough for him to think he didn’t quite blow his chance. As a matter of fact, he’s a little too interested, really, because this is going to give Bucky ideas—the dangerous kind, the kind that’s gonna break his heart someday, he’s sure.

3. put some mustard on it

Sam notices the heightened restlessness too, he’s sure, but that comes along with Bucky agreeing to go on morning runs with him more often as well as an exponential uptake in random warm smiles, so Sam probably doesn’t say anything in worry of breaking that particular spell.  Every time he thinks about that ring he just breaks out into a grin, and every time Sam asks him to come along he doesn’t want to miss a single second. Smiling, running, being with Sam, looking at his ring from Costco. That’s most of Bucky’s life these days. And buying and subsequently wasting mustard, of course. He’s been too busy thinking about the ring to stage that intervention.

4. but it feels like there's oceans between you and me

Usually pleasure rolls off Bucky in waves in times like this, the initial slow push almost more satisfying to him than the explosive finish, but now Sam feels a frenzy of emotions, entirely at odds with Bucky’s calm approach to fucking him.  Fear. Relief. Anger. Worry. Something Sam might call “love” if he didn’t know better.

and, of course,

5. (it's your kiss) hey princess

There’s a noticeable pause between Sam’s steps at that, but Bucky effortlessly leads them back on track. “I appreciate dropping formalities, but I gotta say, ‘Bucky’ does not exactly fit with the handsome noble vibe you’ve got going here.” Bucky spins them around in a move that is surprisingly easy but leaves Sam a little breathless. “Childhood nickname that stuck. My middle name’s Buchanan, which is somehow even more unfortunate than Bucky, but my younger sister, Becca, had issues with it when she was young. It came out more similar to ‘Bucky,’ and that’s what I’ve been called ever since, at least by the people I’m close to.” “We’ve met so recently, Buck, one might think it’s a little sad that I’m already included in those ranks, even if I’m not complaining.” Bucky dips him low and leans into his ear, whispering, “We’re not quite close yet, Prince, but you’ll forgive me for hoping we get there.”

#can't not ever include hey princess in these bc it won me so many wonderful mutuals #thanks for the tags loves <3 #ask game #ask meme #writer meme #otp: i’m coming with you #sam wilson #bucky barnes #marvel #livingincolorsagain #writerkenna

[otaku-girl-ao3]

20 questions for fic writers

This seemed like fun 😅💖

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

39 on AO3 (I’ve still got so many I never bothered to port across and probably never will 😅 All of my new stuff goes on here though!)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

512,495 uploaded so far (though I’ve got quite a backlog still to edit and upload).

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Wonka (2023), Undertale, BNHA, You me and the Apocalypse at the moment. Maybe I’ll go back to MCU, LoTR and Witcher someday. I am really, really tempted to start writing for more Mathew Baynton related fandoms; I am utterly obsessed with Ghosts at the moment as a reader 😅 I need more Thomas/Pat, Thomas/Julian, and Pat/Cap in my life! 🔥

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Twelve steps - 2,927 kudos - MCU, post civil-war, following the twelve steps of grief after a physical injury changes Tony’s life forever. 

Unleashed - 1,274 kudos - Undertale, fellswap, shameless reader/Mutt/BlackBerry BDSM fic.

One track mind - 840 kudos, MCU, found family Darcy-centric Drabble. 

Unforgivable - 628 kudos, Hobbit, post-canon everyone lives fix-it.

Taking the me out of teamwork - 602 kudos, MCU, Tony leaving the avengers Drabble. 

5. Do you respond to comments? Why? Why not?

I now do my best to respond to every comment I get on every fic. I used to worry it was weird or annoying, but now I just try and focus on showing my appreciation for anyone that takes the time and effort to comment on my silly things.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ooooh gosh, either Twelve Steps (kind of a hopefully ending at least), Dark Deeds and Bitter Choices (my first finished and shared dove), or possibly Three Strikes (which I will go back to write an even darker follow-on at some point). 

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Aaaa what even is happiness? Probably (Pure) Imagination; it’s just smut with a very open but happy ending. Or The Most (Un)Romantic Day of the Year (which I should up uploading in early April '24).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I got some for one of my Undertale fics where people hadn’t fully read the tags 🥲 That fic hasn’t been finished but hopefully I’ll go back to it one day. 

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I mainly write smut now 😅 80-90% of that is some kink of BDSM, fetish, or kink related smut. A real mix of long fics and one-shots. I feel more comfortable writing smut than I do fluff at this point!

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have started writing them again. At the moment, Wonka (2023) x You, Me and the Apocalypse (2016) is probably the most recent strange one? I’m also working on something Wonka (2023) x Ghosts (2019) at the moment, possibly with a bit of Spy (2011) and You, Me and the Apocalypse (2016) thrown in, but I'm not sure yet if I'll actually upload that one or not.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of 🤞

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I believe Twelve Steps was translated into Russian but that’s it. 

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not, but I’d absolutely love to! 👀

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

At the moment? Felix Fickelgruber x Willy Wonka (2023); it used to be Duo x Treize x Zechs 😅 but even back then that was a rare pairing to find 😅 I’m not sure if I’ve got an all-time favourite ship anymore; I prefer specific tags to ships. I’ll read anything sugar daddy or most healthy RACK/SSCK BDSM-related fics. Oh! Or anything with good, detailed aftercare.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

It’s not looking great for Unforgivable 😢 maybe some day I'll go back to it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have no shame when it comes to smut. I’ll try writing (almost) anything at least once. 

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Repetition. So, so much repetition. Editing is not my strong suit, though I try my best.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It can be interesting if done well? Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it adds much to the story and can just slow things down for the readers (especially if there is no translation provided).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Gundam Wing as a literal child back in the 00s 😅

20. Favourite fics you’ve written?

Sugar Daddy? Call Me (Sir) has to be my absolute favourite just because it introduced me to so, so many amazing new fandom friends along with my absolute favourite discord server of all time.

His (Darkness) is the one I’m most excited about writing at the moment.

For A Moment is probably the one I most want to go back and do a sequel for, I feel far too bad about leaving Felix in that situation.

Dark Deeds and Bitter Choices is probably one of my absolute favourites (and ironically one of my least kudos’d multi-chapter fics); I think it’s just a bit too dark for the fandom which I totally get. 

(Pure) Imagination is the one that helped me get back into writing again, so it's got a special place in my heart.

#ao3 writer #writers on tumblr #fanfiction writer #my writing

[awellreadmannequin]

Writing update

So with the new semester starting up I have more time to write stuff that isn’t about intangible cultural heritage (psyche, my fiction still is about ICH, fuck you). I’m pretty close to finishing chapter two of >Reorient, which should go live sometime in the coming week. It looks like it’ll be about as long as the last chapter, which is pretty cool. After that, I’m going to put that fic on the back burner for a little bit. I have an idea for at least one more chapter after this one, maybe two? I want to do an engagement chapter for sure and maybe a shorter, fluffier wedding chapter? Honestly, I haven’t quite decided. I think I want the final chapter to be a graduation chapter (minor spoilers for chapter two), which might wind up being more of an epilogue/lead in for the sequel I’m planning.

But all of that will come later in the year, because before that, I want to finish The Cadet, as promised. As it stands, that story sits at around 10 000 words and I think I have about 5000 left to write. So I should be able to get that done before the end for the month. I think I’ll refrain from doing any major revisions for this version, since I’m probably just going to publish it on this blog. If I decide to do anything more with it in the future, it will probably require some substantial edits. However, for now I just want you guys to read it.

Once The Cadet is finished, I want to write the first chapter of a fic set in the same continuity as >Reorient, but twenty years down the line. I’ve tentatively (that’s al lie, I’m fairly certain this will be the final title) >Vriska: Reconcile and, shockingly, it’s about Vriska. I haven’t fully worked out the details, but the highlights are that Vriska turns up in the >Reorient timeline with significantly less time having passed for her than for everyone else. Terezi has not yet returned from paradox space and Vriska finds that she fully has no idea how to live in a world where things are just… fine? Since the theme of this fic will be reconciliation, I want to focus heavily on Vriska reconciling with herself, reconciling with her friends (specifically Kanaya, Terezi, and Karkat), and reconciling with her life-world. There will be vrisrosekan. I’m sorry, there just will be. There might be some vrisrezi too. What can I say, I love lesbian drama. In >Reorient, I’m trying to focus on Rose’s changing understanding of significance as she matures, so in >Reconcile, I want to focus on how maturing changes Vriska’s understanding of relevance. My plan is to make >Reconcile a bit — just a bit! — smutty. But, like, in a sex as plot device way not in a sex as pure titillation way. I don’t know, we’ll have to see.

After I get the first chapter of >Reconcile out, I’m going to switch between writing chapters of the fics until they’re both complete. The Cadet is intended to be a standalone story, but if it gets a positive reaction, I could be persuaded to write more stories in that setting. There’s some pretty neat stuff in Aeschia (that’s the name of the world, dw about it) that The Cadet never even touches. Like lesbian vampire Jesus being burned at the stake to absolve vampires of the need to feed on human flesh or the Cold War style arms race to develop psionic weapons capable of destabilizing the reality on a metaphysical level or even just a more in-depth study of elf genders.

One of my personal goals for the next few years is to publish more of my writing in public forums. While I’m hoping to get an academic paper published this year, I’d also like actually share my fiction with people more. I love writing and I have been writing short fiction on and off since I was twelve. However, I’ve never felt comfortable sharing it with anyone, so most of it never got finished. Having this blog and seeing the positive reactions that >Reorient has thus far received has made me realize how much anxiety was holding me back. Having an audience, even just a small one, has created the sense of accountability I think I always needed in order to actually finish projects that I start. So thank you, everyone. I cannot express how much I appreciate every single reblog and comment and kudos I’ve received in the past few months. You’ve lit a fire in me that cannot be extinguished. Hopefully. And don’t worry if fiction / homestuck / uh whatever the hell The Cadet is isn’t your thing! I’m doing another semester long course on feminist philosophy, so I absolutely will have more essays to share with you all here soon!

#claire thoughts #claire writes

[strandbuckley]

Tagged by @chaotictarlos

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

My Bloody Valentine

“Well that was eventful,” Carlos said as he slid the loft door shut behind them, clicking the lock into place. 

“That’s an understatement babe,” TK chuckled, kicking off his shoes and moving into the living room. “I just wish we could have one normal date. I’m sorry our plans got ruined.”

“It’s not your fault baby. Why don’t you go grab a shower? I’m gonna set the alarm and then I’ll join you.”

TK looked down at himself and cringed. He’d been able to clean most of the blood off his hands and arms before leaving the restaurant, but his shirt looked like a lost cause. 

“At least it’s not my blood this time?”

Closed For Maintenance

TK fidgeted with a loose string in the bottom of his hoodie, wrapping it around his finger until his nail went white, before unraveling it and doing it again. He wasn’t sure what was eating at him. He knew better than to assume Carlos asking him to talk about something was bad news. Carlos wouldn’t spring something on him like that. Even so, when Carlos had uttered those three words over dinner, the food in TK’s mouth had turned to ash. He nodded wordlessly at his fiance and resigned himself to picking at his suddenly tasteless dinner until Carlos was finished. Now he was sitting across from him on the couch, torturing himself until Carlos spoke.

By My Side

“Carlos Reyes, I swear if you don’t sit your ass on that couch I’m calling your mother.”

“I’m not an invalid TK,” Carlos huffed. “I can get my own water.”

“I know you’re not honey,” TK soothed, setting the glass down on the coffee table and running a hand through Carlos’ dirty hair. He hadn’t had a chance to shower since the accident, having to settle for the quick sponge baths and dry shampoo given in the hospital. “But,” he continued. “You have a broken leg and two fractured ribs. You’re looking at a twelve-week recovery minimum. And that’s just for the leg. I know you hate it, but you’ve got to take it easy.”

“I am taking it easy,” he grumbled. “I’ve barely moved off the damn couch for two days.”

Unconventional Methods

TK didn’t know why he was awake. Typically there were only a few reasons he’d be awake at 3 am. He hadn’t had a nightmare, they’d been few and far between in recent months. There were ringing alarm bells or lingering smell of smoke in the air (thank God) and no early morning proposals to be made (the matching gold rings in the dish on their bathroom counter took care of that). He didn’t have to pee and no part of his body hurt, so there was no reason he shouldn’t have been dead to the world. 

I'll Be Cleaning Up Bottles With You (On New Year's Day)

Carlos wasn’t used to sleeping in. Even on days when he wasn’t working, he was up by sunrise to go for his run, stopping on the way home to pick up muffins and coffee for himself and TK to enjoy before his husband ran off to work or before they started on whatever responsibilities they had for the day. Today, however, when he rolled over to check his phone, he was appalled to find that it was almost noon.

There was a straightforward explanation for his laziness, New Year’s Eve. He and TK had invited over their friends to the loft for a party the night before. They’d kept it relaxed and fun, nothing vastly different from the other 126 hangs that happened at their house, aside from the presence of Judd, Grace, and Charlie. However, they’d stayed up well past midnight, and frankly, Carlos was too old for that shit.

The Holiday Season

“Buck, Buck! Dad! Wake up! It’s Christmas Eve, you gotta get up!”

“Wha-?”

Buck was barely awake enough to brace himself as Christopher clambered onto the bed, flopping down right in the center of Buck’s chest. Two small hands held his cheeks, and he leaned in to press their noses together as he spoke.

“Buck, get up.”

Buck slowly opened his eyes, going cross-eyed as he tried to focus on Chris. Eddie groaned next to him, rolling over and blinking blearily at them.

“Good, you’re up,” Christopher said, sitting up but not moving from his position on Buck’s chest. He said it as if he’d already forgotten that it was his commotion that had ripped them from their peaceful sleep.

The Set Up

He didn’t hate Austin nearly as much as he thought he would. It wasn’t even close to what he was used to. Everything was smaller than in New York, people were much closer, not in a physical way, but in an emotional one. They knew everything about each other and news traveled fast. Everyone in Austin proper had known about him and his dad before their plane even touched down. 

They’d known about his injury before they’d even met him. They’d expected the limp and the sour attitude that came along with a career-ending leg break. His dad’s new team had looked at them with pity for a few days, feeling somewhat guilty every time he went to the firehouse to visit or bring his dad lunch. That was until he started hanging around and kicking their asses at foosball and video games, which earned him a little respect, the amount of which grew every day, until they were friends. 

Christmas Tree Farm

Winter in Austin was a different kind of cold. TK was used to snow and ice, all of the things that came with winter in the North. This was a different kind of cold. This cold seeped through his layers of a hoodie and coat, chilling him to the bone. He pressed a little closer to Carlos, wrapping his chilled hands around his bicep as they walked through the Christmas market set up downtown. 

“Are you cold babe?” Carlos asked.

“A little,” TK admitted, breath clouding around his face as he spoke. 

“I’m getting you a better jacket for Christmas. I don’t like you being cold.”

“I don’t like it either.”

“We can go home if you want. We can do this on a day that’s less cold.”

“Nope. We promised Noah we’d have a Christmas tree when we got home and I will not disappoint him.”

Hot Chocolate Weather

“I’m not liking the way this looks,” Carlos grumbled, stepping away from the window where he’d been peeking out at the storm. The plastic blinds crackled when he released them and TK pushed down the urge to fuss about him bending the pieces. It was a pet peeve he'd never been able to get over after years of being scolded for peering through the blinds of rented apartments in the same fashion. As if sensing his frustration, Carlos gently adjusted the bent piece before drawing the curtains over the window. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“Do you think it’s gonna get bad? Judd was saying something about tornado weather.”

TK really hated storms. They weren’t an anomaly in New York but something about the humidity of the South and the potential for tornadoes made it worse. Plus past experiences with storms, rain, ice, dust, or otherwise, he was understandably wary of weather that wasn’t sunny and blue skies. 

Paper Rings (Buddie's Version)

It started as a joke really. Buck wasn’t sure where he’d gotten the notion, maybe from that stupidly catchy Taylor Swift song May had been so insistent on playing all summer. Something about it had wormed its way into a small corner of his brain and he couldn’t shake the words.

I’d marry you with paper rings

He’d thought about marrying Eddie. Of course, he had. A small part of him felt he and Eddie had been married for years, had been married since they’d stopped posturing over a man with a grenade in his leg and became some semblance of friends. Since Eddie had looked him in the eyes, stupidly large hand on his shoulder and ridiculously soulful brown eyes filled with so much sincerity and concern, and said “There is no one in this world I trust with my son more than you.” He’d thought about it more recently, as they crossed the threshold over one year of dating. He thought about the pages of bookmarked rings he was hiding from Eddie on his laptop. He was months away from clicking the button to buy one, they had time, but he wanted it more than anything. 

Tagging: anyone who wants to :)

#tarlos #tarlos fic #buddie #buddie fic #tag challenge #my works #my fics

[niobe-loreley]

Heaven Is In A Shortcake {iv}

midnight snack, anyone?

(see author's notes far below)

disclaimer: pictures are NOT MINE, but the edited version of it is- mainly for the fic. still, credits to the rightful owners and to canva + weheartit. addtionally, i am not a subic/zambales native so my apologies for any wrong locations, descriptions, or languages.

Six x F!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader

warnings: moderate swear words. slow burn. fluff. comedy. trust issues. culture shock. check word count.

CHAPTER SELECTION is in the✨Masterlist✨ Chapter 3 - previous chapter, check the link in the masterlist Chapter 4 - this is it [next chapter link will be posted below for suspense & convenience hehe]

words: 5.2k (N/N) = nickname *Kiara = Claire *Kurt = Court *cover names / reader doesn't know (except you do know #wreckthe4thwall)

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

“Binabasa mo pa rin ‘yan?” You’re still reading that?

You look up from reading Aurora Rising. “Um, what you sayyy?” you intone, “This is my 2nd time.”

Muro is shocked.

“Yeah, 12 hours lang sa’kin ito.” Yeah, this is just 12 hours for me.

Muro is aghast.

“Wala pa kase book 2 at 3 sa NBS. Baka umorder na lang ako online.” you shrug, continuing to read.

There’s still no book 2 and 3 at NBS. Maybe I’ll just order online.

“Hold up, that’s like a thick-ass book. Goblet of Fire kind of thick— or thicker!” Muro exclaims, “Like Mindy’s ass and thighs! And you’re telling me that you can read it in 12 hours?”

“Less than 12 hours if I don’t have anything to do.”

“Halimaw ka.” You’re a monster.

You beam. “Thanks! And you’re a pervert!”

You purchased this book before you bought the baking supplies last week. But you only got to read it on the weekend. You’ve only reached the middle of the story since you had a full shift on Saturday, that’s why Muro thought you hadn't finished reading it.

Today is a slow Friday, unlike last week, though the afternoon was jam-packed. The first customers for this evening are still the latest, they just left and there hasn’t been new ones for 15 minutes now. You wait for another 15 minutes before you take one of the extensive booths and sprawl there while reading. You’re the fan-favorite worker in this cafe, and dare say, the most hard-working; you can do whatever you like unless the boss says otherwise.

“Kyaaaaaaa!” you instinctively let out a giddy, highschool girl scream. Sitting up, you plunge your face in the book and feel the warmth of your skin flowing into the pages. You retract yourself and flip one page back. “Wait, wait— WAIT! Rewind! I wanna read this part again for the first time!”

You stop laughing when you feel eyes on you. There’s Muro, facepalming behind the counter, but someone else is—

“What’cha reading there, (N/N)?” Claire grins as she stands with her dad by the door.

You look between her and Court, who is more baffled than amused at you. Your face heats again, this time due to embarrassment, and you compose yourself. Placing the bookmark in the book, you close it and stand up. “Miss Kiara, Mr. Kurt!” you exclaim, clearing your throat when you hear it become high-pitched. “Welcome once again to our humble cafe.”

“What’s with the miss?” Claire asks, snorting.

“Yeah, just Kurt is fine,” says Court.

You flush. “Sorry.”

You gesture for them to come in, grabbing your book, you’re about to head for the refill station when Claire calls you and asks to borrow the book. You hand it to her before you stride away to get some water and glasses. They take the booth near the counter again.

“Looks interesting,” Claire says, flipping from the back to the front of the book.

“It very is.” you nod as you pour their glasses with water.

She hands the book to you. “Can I borrow it when you finish?”

“I’ve already finished it. This is my 2nd re-read.”

“Really?!”

“Really!”

“How long did you read it for?”

“Twelve hours,” you simper.

Claire’s jaw drops.

You stifle a laugh. “By the way, I have TFIOS and Paper Towns in my locker. Would you like to have them now?”

“Yes, please!” she vigorously nods.

“Okay.. I’ll go prepare the brown rice first— unless you’re not having a rice meal?”

“I’ll be having a rice meal!”

You make eye contact with Court, breaking it immediately when you swivel away. He seems passive, though he usually is, but passive in a way he won’t bark at you for interacting with his daughter.

When you come back from the kitchen, Muro is already printing the receipt of their orders. Court watches as you hand Claire the two books and then scan the screen. You try to ignore his gaze, and you internally scold yourself that there's nothing to it.

"Okinawa milk tea with pearls?" you ask, regarding Claire.

Court raises his hand. "That's mine."

You're astounded.

"Don't look too shocked," he says as though you punched him.

"Hurt, dad?" Claire sneers at him.

"Wounded.."

She giggles and turns to you. "Mine's the chocomalt with cream cheese and nata de coco—" she glances at Muro, "Tama po ba iyon?"

"Yes, yes! Tama!" Muro gives her a double thumbs-up.

"He says it's healthier than tapioca pearls."

"The peace juice with chia seeds is much healthier," you frown at your co-worker.

"I wanted the chocomalt, (N/N)." says Claire.

"Fine.. as long as this is your first and last milk tea for this week."

"It is and will be."

"You'll order healthier drinks next time."

She salutes with a laugh. "Yes, ma'am!" and loops her arm around Court's as they walk back to their booth.

"Nanay ka, ghorl?" Muro whispers to you, working on the okinawa while you prepare the chocomalt.

You a mother, girl?

"Ano?" What?

He rolls his eyes. "Dude, you're overprotective of her."

I roll my eyes back at him. "Gago, malamang.. she has a heart condition." Idiot, of course..

Muro heaves a brow at you.

"It's not that she can't drink milk tea, but she can't always have them."

"Obviously— pero hindi iyon kung bakit kita tinitignan ng ganito."

But that's not why I'm looking at you like this.

"Then, what?" you snap.

"Seryoso?" he groans. Seriously?

"Ano ba kase 'yon?!" What is it?!

"Wala, bobo ka!" Nothing, you're a moron!

You swing your leg out, kicking him in the shin, and you evade his counterattack with a laugh. You notice Claire jogging from the game shelves after she picks up the Pop-Up Pirate box and UNO Flip. On the outside, she looks so healthy, but on the inside, her physiology has failed her. What a shitty cardiovascular system. Because of it, she looks so thin— she needs to be plump, like most girls her age!

You resist the urge to slap yourself with the blender. Is it bad to worry about a teenage girl whom you hardly know?

The funky, chill beat of Ilaw Sa Daan by IV Of Spades swarms the cafe when you and Muro finish up the drinks. Just then, Mindy pokes out of the kitchen and asks for either of your help. Muro volunteers immediately, disappearing through the swinging doors like a Looney Tune, which leaves you to serve the customers’ drinks.

“One okinawa milk tea with tapioca pearls,” you announce and place the drink near Court, who murmurs a thanks. You then reach over to deposit Claire’s drink further in the table since she’s currently trying to poke a toy sword through the tiny barrel. “And one chocomalt with cream cheese and nata de coco.”

“Thanks, (N/N)— woah!” Claire jumps when the pirate pops out of the barrel.

Your arm moves on its own. Just as the pirate soars to its highest peak, you catch it in your hand. But that’s not the reason why your eyes are wider than UFO saucers right now. It’s because Court made a grab for the miniature pirate as well, except he grabbed your hand instead.

Claire clamps a hand over her open mouth, suppressing a laugh, and looks from you to Court while the two of you stare at each other in astonishment.

The thin shadow from his cap is vanquished by the pendant lights overhead. Instinctively, you scan his face; this is the first time you’ve seen it clear as day. He always has his cap tucked down, and whenever he does look at you, he’s only peering and somehow keeping his face obscured. Despite the evidence of having a hard-lived life etched in his face, the surprise he feels from touching you softens him.

You follow the way his small brows are quirked up. You think of how his sharp nose looks as tough as he is. His eyes remind you of almonds, and you notice one of them is minimally crooked yet his gaze remains somewhat attractive. His neatly trimmed goatee tempts you to trace it as long as your fingers end up on his thin lips—

You recoil with shame tainted cheeks, but you can’t fully step away with your hand still clutched in his. You look at your hand, which appears smaller wrapped in his own, and you feel his callouses against your knuckles.

“Sorry,” he says and releases his grip, averting his gaze.

“It’s fine,” you stammer, gently putting the toy down on the table, you scratch behind your ear. “Looks like I have faster reflexes this week.”

Court looks back at you, and you can see the memory streaking through his eyes. “Yeah.. yeah, you beat me to it.” he replies with a chuckle.

“Slowpoke," you playfully say.

He scoffs. “Whatever you say, Clifford.”

You act as though your face temperature hasn’t gone from low heat to high.

“Clifford?” Claire asks puzzledly.

“The Big Red Dog.” you and Court chorus, exchanging looks.

She blinks in recognition. “Oh, the movie from last year? Haven’t watched it.”

“Yeah, it was also a cartoon from the early 2000s.” you add.

“Based on the books that started in 1963.” Court says in a chirping manner, as though it’s a competition now on who has the most knowledgeable references.

“Hey, (N/N), wanna play?” Claire begins plucking out the toy swords from the barrel.

You glance over to the counter. “Oh, I can’t.. Muro’s in the kitchen, so I’m holding the fort.”

“Why not hold the fort while playing?”

Court opens his mouth and immediately closes it. “Kiara,” he says with a pointed look.

“T’was just a suggestion, dad.” she retorts, drawling.

“I’ll be by the counter if you two need anything.” you chime in and shortly wave, strolling away.

‘Is it just me or is there something off with the way they call each other?’ you shake your head, ‘Nah..’

You recall their first-time at the cafe—

“Man, Six, you're such a downer!"

"Shush. You can try the other condiments some other time, Claire."

Are they hiding something? Or are you just in over your head?

You snap out of your thoughts when you catch the swinging doors in your peripheral vision. Muro is peeking out. He informs you that the food will be ready in less than ten minutes before he slips back in the kitchen. You peer over the counter, watching the father-daughter duo play a game of anxiety and chance, you decide to not interfere until you’re serving their dinner.

Boundaries— you mentally repeat the word like a mantra. Until your brain starts singing along with Disturbia thumping out the speakers.

⚜🍰⚜

“Thank you, come again!” you beam at the father-daughter duo.

Claire smiles. “You didn’t have to open the door for us.”

“It’s my pleasure, sweetie.” you reply, winking.

“Thanks.” Court gives a polite nod as he sidles past you.

“I’ll try to give these back next week!” Claire waves up the paper bag containing Paper Towns and TFIOS.

“Take your time!”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t spill anything on it.” says Court.

She frowns. “Hey!”

You laugh, partly stepping out of the door. “Safe driving!”

“Good night, (N/N)!”

“Good— huh? HOY!”

Court and Claire flinch at your abrupt bellow. Just as they stop to turn back to you, you’re already hurtling past them.

“BIKE KO ‘YAN, GAGO!” you shout at the guy, who just managed to bypass the lock of your bicycle. Your moped is in repair today, that’s why you opted for a bike— which is a gift from Mr. Nik’s, your landlord. “Tanginamo ka! Bumalik ka rito!”

That’s my bike, gago! — You fucking bitch! Get back here!

The guy is already on your bike, pedaling away like you’re about to shoot a javelin up his ass— because you look like you want to. Unfortunately, but lucky for him, you’re not a professional javelin thrower nor do you have anything similar to throw. 

However, you’re fortunate with above average physicality.

“Your ass is mine!” you huff like that White Chick, zooming up to five feet behind the thief. Your eyes have adjusted to his stature and you wonder if he’s a teen.

He glances over his shoulder, eyes bulging out in shock, and you hear him cussing as he faces forward. “Yeah, that’s right— puta talaga!” you shout, steadying your breathing.

The bicycle thief veers left off the curb and darts across the road. You look both ways before you hurtle after him. “Titigil ka o isosobsob ko yang mukha mo sa aspalto?!” you roar like a Filipino mother.

People around the street look at the commotion you’re making, especially when you take out your phone and turn on the flashlight. The street is a bit dark, incoming vehicles may not see you.

“Hoy, wag kayo mag-laro, gabi na.” someone drawls from the street. Hey, stop playing, it’s night already.

You whip to them with a glare. “Tatlumpu't tatlo na ako at ninakaw niya bike ko, bitch!” and you swear once more when the thief swerves in to Tappan Park

I’m 33 and he stole my bike, bitch!

You follow after him, pointing the flashlight to the ground to see any obstacles. The lampposts around the park are a bit dim, you’ll make sure to complain to the groundskeeper later.

Fire begins to infiltrate your lungs, and embers from the growing devastation float down to your legs, combusting your muscles. Your steady breathing feels rough and scorching whenever it blows out of your lips. It’s been a while since you ran with all your might. Sure, you’re exercising an hour per day and working six days a week, but it still hits differently when you abruptly take off.

Blame adrenaline.

“HOY!” you yell as the distance between you and the bike increases.

The thief pedals out of the park, but before he can continue on the road— a flash of shadow appears into the light, grabs the back of his clothes, and hauls him off the bike. He yelps as he’s thrown onto the curb, while his assailant stops the bike from falling and immediately boots the kickstand down.

“Kurt?” you puzzledly say as you rest to a stop near the thief.

Court slowly breathes out, turning around to face you, he pats the top of his head, where his cap still remains. “You all right?” he inquires, eyeing you up and down.

“How.. how did you get here?” you glance over your shoulder, “Where’s Kiara?”

“She’s— hey!” he takes one step and catches the thief by the arm.

“Bitiwan niyo ko!” the thief snarls, thrashing to escape.

You grip his other arm, pulling off his hood and beanie. With a nearby lamppost, you can clearly see the thief is, in fact, a girl. Maybe a year or two younger than Claire.

“Sabi nang bitiwan niyo ko!” she shouts.

You heavily flick her on the forehead, the loud thump echoes across the park, this makes Court wince while the girl is just stunned. “Tumahimik ka ngang bata ka! Bakit ka nagnanakaw ng bike ha?!” you shout, “Kung ganyan turo sa’yo ng mga magulang mo, ipa-DSWD na kaya kita!”

Be quiet, you brat! Why are you stealing a bike?! — If that’s what your parents are teaching you, I’ll take you to the DSWD myself!

“N-Y-O-B!”

“N-O-Y-B ‘yon, tanga!” It’s N-O-Y-B, stupid!

“Edi ikaw na magaling, gurang!” Eh, then you’re smart, oldie!

“HOY, TREINTA Y TRES PA LANG AKO!” HEY, I’M ONLY THIRTY-THREE!

With the little thief slowly pedaling on the bike, you and Court are walking at each of her sides. She finally remained docile after three escape-attempts, one of which she planned to bike faster, but you grab the rear carrier and wallop her upside the head.

“You must be shocked,” you remark, glancing at Court. He’s been quiet during the whole exchange, though you see him grimacing whenever you smack the girl.

He catches your gaze briefly and contemplates on a response as he turns ahead. “Well, if I’m being honest, I’m horrified…”

You feel a sharp pang of anxiety in your chest.

“...I’ll remind myself not to get on your bad side.”

You snort as the anxiety disperses when your heart skips a beat. "It's actually the same on my good side." you say, shrugging. "I tend to give tough love."

Court looks at you in bewilderment, and you regard him quizzically. It's as though you said a taboo and the townspeople will be after you.

"Well, in this case, it's tough compassion." you poke the girl's side.

She yelps, nearly losing balance, and throws you the stink-eye. You return a scowl and continuously tap your fist against your palm. Unimpressed, she scoffs at you, slightly pedaling forward but not far enough for you to give a warning.

"Kids today are shameless," you comment spittingly.

Court snorts as Claire swims up in his eyes. Earlier, he wanted to chase after you and the thief but didn’t want to risk leaving her alone. So she told him she’ll run if he won’t, and that she’ll report to the hospital of his negligence towards her health,

"Totally shameless," he nods with a stifled grin.

The three of you arrive back at the cafe. Muro, Mindy, and Claire are at a bench near the parking lot.

“Are you two okay?” Claire is the first to ask as she stands up.

“Yeah, we’re good.” says Court, glancing at you.

“Here’s your bike lock, (Y/N).” Mindy hands you the cable lock.

“Damn, I didn’t think it was a kid.” Muro sighs, holding up a bolt cutter, he regards the girl. “Sa’n mo nakuha ‘to?”

Where did you get this?

The girl slides down from the bike. “Sa pwet mo.” In your butt.

You stifle a laugh. “That’s new!”

The girl is baffled that you’re amused. You take the cable lock from Mindy and assess its damage. “Looks like I’ll buy another one, plus a wheel lock.” you pause to look at the girl, “Sagutin mo tanong niya o sasakalin kita gamit nito.”

Answer his question or I’ll strangle you with this.

“Kung ipapa-pulis mo ako, gawin mo na!” the girl shouts.

If you’ll take me to the police, just do it!

“Pareho rin itatanong nila.” They’ll ask you the same things.

“Edi ba’t ka pa nagtatanong?” Then why are you asking?

“Kase papakawalan kita depende sa sagot mo.” you proclaim, placing your hands on your waist. 

Because I’ll let you go depending on your answer.

The girl bristles. “‘Di ako naniniwala sa’yo.”

I don’t believe you.

You shrug. “Bahala ka. Mas mapapagalitan ka ng magulang mo kung sa pulis nanggaling.”

Your choice. Your parents will be more angry if this comes from the police.

The girl’s eyes widen in realization, casting her gaze down on the sandy ground, she mulls over your words. You then see how small she is, how she seems more than just a bicycle thief— is she not doing this for herself? Or is she just doing this for fun?

You sigh. “Huling pagkakataon.. bakit ba ninakaw mo bike ko?”

Last chance.. why did you steal my bike?

“Kase..” the girl gulps, fear shaking in her eyes as she looks up to you.

“M-Mabait si (N/N)!” Claire suddenly declares, stepping forward, she slowly tries to convey her thoughts and feelings. “Hindi ko pa siya kilala ng matagal.. pero alam ko mabait siya.”

(N/N) is kind! — I haven’t met her that long.. but I know she’s kind.

Your heart has practically melted then and there. Claire is to you as Arlo is to Rosa Diaz, if anyone hurts her, you’ll kill everyone here and yourself. She’s supporting your honor when she doesn’t even know if you’re a bugger-flicker or -wiper. What’s more her Tagalog has improved, she sounds so cute!

“Huwag ka mag-alala. Maiintindihan ka niya.” Court says, nodding at the girl.

Don’t worry. She’ll understand you.

“What’s with you two?!” you couldn’t hold back as you tearfully beam at the father-daughter duo. “You’re making my heart all fuzzy!”

The girl deeply breathes in and out. “Ninakaw ko po bike niyo kase kailangan ko pera— pero para sa pamilya!”

I stole your bike because I need the money— but for my family!

She begins to explain that her youngest sibling is going to start school, and she’s deciding to drop-out to help earn some money, being the oldest and all. Her mother is a single-parent, living in a shed at the hotel she’s working on with three children; the girl makes no mention of her father, and you know better than to probe.

After her explanation, she also confessed to her crimes. Stealing bicycles, purses, and even shoes that she would find along the Boardwalk. You then tell her to wait there and sprint back to the cafe. 

When you return, you hand her a paper bag; inside is a packaged whole strawberry shortcake with a pen and paper. “Tara, samahan kita umuwi. Malapit lang hotel dito, ikaw mag-bike tapos angkas ako.” you declare, tying your hair up into a ponytail.

C’mon, I’ll go with you. The hotel’s close here, you’ll bike and I’ll sit behind.

“Ano?” the girl stammers confusedly.

“Syempre, gusto ko malaman kung totoo nga ba sinasabi mo, pero ‘di ako magpapakita sa mama mo. At saka ‘di kita papauwiin mag-isa ng ganitong oras, babae ka pa rin.”

Of course, I wanna know if you’re telling the truth, but I won’t let your mother see you. And I won’t let you go home by yourself at a time like this, you’re still a girl.

The girl, in fact everyone there, stares at you like you’ve grown multiple heads. You roll your eyes at them and resist the urge to throw something at Muro. “Basta sabihin mo sa mama mo, sakto palabas yung customers namin no’ng pumasok ka at sinabi mo may nagnanakaw ng bike sa parking lot. Kaya kita binigyan ng cake saka application form, kase kung ‘di dahil sa’yo mawawalan ako ng bike.” you shortly pull up the paper from the bag, it’s a form for part-time applicants at the cafe.

Just tell your mom that you went into the cafe just as customers were going out and you told us someone’s bike is being stolen from the parking lot. That’s why I gave you a cake and an application form, because if it weren’t for you I’d lose my bike.

The girl is close to tearing up. “Bakit mo ginagawa ito?” Why are you doing this?

You smirk. “Kailangan namin ng utos-utusan, medyo dumadami customers namin tuwing umaga’t hapon.” We need someone to order around, customers have been increasing during the day.

“Pero—” But—

“Ay naku! Kukunin mo ba ‘yang binibigay ko o ibibigay kita sa pulis?” Oh, my! Are you gonna take my offer or am I going to take you to the police?

As soon as the girl reluctantly accepts your offer, you force her to ride the bike before plopping on the rear carrier.

“Bakit ano yung nasa harap?” Why am I in front?

“Mamaya kase may kutsilyo ka pang tinatago.” Because you may be hiding a knife.

You look at Muro and Mindy. “I’ll be quick,” and then turn to the father-daughter duo. “See you next week?”

Claire nods. “See you!”

“Be careful,” Mindy murmurs, trying not to eye the girl in suspicion.

“Don’t you want a ride?” Court suggests.

You’re surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’ll be faster.”

“Oh, a car is a lot faster than a bicycle.”

“Yes, so—” Court cuts himself off when you look at him expectantly, but there’s something else in your grin— “You’re being sarcastic.”

You laugh. “Sorry. But we’ll be fine, you two should get home.”

You force Lilia— the girl— to get a move on and soon, you two are riding off into the night, looking like the universe’s most unlikely pair of adventurers.

The hotel she claimed that her family is staying in is just four blocks away from the cafe. But just as Lilia rounds onto the last black, she abruptly presses on the brakes.

You yelp. “Ay, susmaryosep!” and slap the teen on the back, “I almost fell over!— Wait, sa’n ka pupunta?”

Wait, where are you going?

“Nanay ko ‘yon,” she slips off the bike and nods over to the direction of the hotel.

You glance and there is, in fact, a woman in her late 30s— maybe, it’s hard to discern age from this distance. But what’s discernible is the anxiety in her steps as she paces back and forth the sidewalk. “Sige, puntahan mo na. At pag-isipan mo yung na-offer ko,” you wag a finger at her and shortly look away, “Though I have to ask Liz about it first.”

Alright, go to her. And think about my offer

She hears you muttering. “Ano ‘yon?” What’s that?

“Wala— hurry and go! Shoo!” Nothing— bilisan mo at umalis ka na!

Lilia makes a face at you, swivels to walk away, and stops to turn back. “Ate (N/N)—”

“Aalis ka o ibabato ko yung bike na ‘to sa’yo?” You gonna leave or am I gonna throw this bike at you?

Fortunately, Lilia obliges. And you’d rather not break your precious bike over a smartass kid. Her mother instantly sprints to her after she spots Lilia. Invisible arrows shoot into your heart and spine when the mother tightly embraces her child. The urge to call, or even just send a short message to your mom, tingles in your fingers. But you keep the longing there, steadying it just at your fingertips, like that one Greek Titan sentenced to bear the heavens.

Lilia doesn’t mention that you’re there, as instructed by you, but she glances over to you from time to time. Her mother is too focused on her to pay her sneaking looks any heed. You wait until they’re stepping in the hotel before you turn the bike around and pedal back to the cafe.

The ride is slow— on purpose. You’re pedaling leisurely to bask in the cool evening air and whiff at the sea fragrance that gets stronger as you near the Boardwalk. It’s always chilly here at night, the naturally-occurring nocturnal heatwaves rarely win against the ocean flurries.

Out of the blue, you wonder if Claire has tread through the Boardwalk. You try not to cement any thoughts of suggesting it to the teen as she may ask you to come with her and Court again. Not that that’s a bad way to spend time with friendly strangers, but Court seems adamant in maintaining distance. Still, he wants Claire to socialize— as long as no one gets too close.

You think about the reasons for his behavior. What happened before they moved here in the Philippines? The country doesn’t have the best medical care, so why are they here? And what’s with the stealthy looks he would have whenever he’s looking over his shoulder or at the security cameras? 

And why the hell did he leave his daughter with strangers to help you?— she probably forced him, you realize. Muro and Mindy are still strangers, just like you are.

You decide how this is stressing you out and attempt to clear your mind. Imaginary fingers clutch your nape, you shudder and take a gander. This feels familiar— like that time at the mall. And again, no one is following you. There’s only a car parked at the far end of the block, but no one seems to be inside. It looks familiar, but there are a lot of cars like that here. You shrug and round the block, the cafe is in your sights.

Unbeknownst to you, there are people inside that car. The very same pair that has been plaguing your mind. 

Court urges the car forward, slowly but surely as he keeps the lights off. By the time they’re peeking out of the corner, you’re hauling the bicycle through the cafe’s front doors and probably arguing with Muro about it.

“She’s inside,” says Claire.

Court hums in agreement, checking the rearview mirror, he flicks on the lights and swivels the car around. He hears Claire giggling to herself and glimpses sideways at her. “What?” he asks, concerned rather than curious.

“Oh, nothing..” she breathes out cheerfully.

“Sure—” he pauses, “ Oh..”

She nods with a toothy grin. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“What? I’m only thinking about how you’re worried for someone other than me,” Claire turns to him, inclining her head rightward. “So, is it truly not that?”

“It’s,” he’s about to reply with the truth, but the lie flies out of his mouth first. “Not.”

She gasps dramatically. “How come?! When it was you who began following them without saying anything!”

Court feels his ears burning. Now, that’s true. When Lilia begins to pedal away with you, his instincts told him to be in pursuit. He and Claire bid goodbye to Mindy and Muro before trying not to drive away too hastily, they took a different path that still leads to where you’re going. None of you know whether the girl, who just robbed you, is telling the truth— until you all witnessed her mother hugging her.

The suspicion has evaporated, but Court would be lying if he says he’s done worrying about you. That’s why he followed you, slowly and discreetly, keeping him and Claire in the shadows. You felt their eyes on you, but you didn’t know where they were.

Just like last week at the mall.

Court saw you when he was exiting the hardware store. Immediately, he thought you were following them, so he decided to do the same to you. But the way you try to lose him diminishes his doubts, only an amateur stalker would fall for it. Even so, at the last second, you caught a glimpse of him. Luckily, it wasn’t enough for you to recognize him completely— judging from your reaction when you meet him at the bookstore.

He recalls the conversation he had with you when Claire bought cotton candies. He isn’t just worried about Claire, he’s also worried about you being too close for comfort. There are forces in this world that might be watching them, but are not as merciful as the Lord. It’s already risky planning to go out every Friday night or going to the mall once every two weeks. But Court has decided that, despite their circumstance, he would try to give Claire a long (and slightly normal) life if possible.

Even if that means interacting with anyone and becoming suspicious of every little thing they do. Hence, pulling them close at a safe distance and then pushing them far, far away.

“You’re real paranoid, you know?” Claire quips.

Court sighs heftily. “.. I concur.”

“You should get out more. Join the PTA.”

“School hasn’t started here… And you’ll be homeschooling, anyway.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re my teacher.”

“Hey, I know a ton of shit in school.”

“You saying it like that makes it so hard to believe.”

⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜🍰⚜

A/N: wow, that's a long one HAHAHA I guess it's just my way of making up for not updating last Wed or Thurs as I've (promised) noted ꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡ y'all wanna know why? It's because of a smut Six x Reader that suddenly corrupted my mind! And because the update was late and I might not be able to post weekly, I'll be posting this smut for some fresh content for y'all hehehehe

The portal to another dimension Chapter 5 is not yet now open!

#the gray man #sierra six #courtland gentry #six #court gentry #reader insert #claire fitzroy #the gray man x reader #sierra six x reader #six x reader #court gentry x reader #slow burn #fluff #comedy #teenage girl needs a mama figure #netflix #ryan gosling #chris evans #ana de armas #russo brothers #try hard father #trust issues

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

For the fic asks: 1, 3, 4!

1. What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

oh you’ll love this. the first fic i ever wrote was a gundam wing/sailor moon crossover that i wrote out by hand in pencil on looseleaf in a green three-ring binder before painstakingly typing it up and uploading all twelve or so chapters to FFNet in one go. because FFNet is the most stable site in existence it does still exist there, which is how i rediscovered a while back that it came in at something like forty-three thousand words, which is not bad considering that i was like, thirteen.

i did some additional dabbling in sailor moon & maybe a few others, but i would say gundam wing was definitely my first real Fandom in that i read for it a ton and wrote another three and a half fics for it (with that half being, like, a lot), and also in that when i look at the stuff i wrote for it, i can see with somewhat humiliating clarity the very obvious seeds of some concepts and themes that i continue to feel compelled by - in particular the last big fic which i never finished was very much in part an early attempt, in like eighth grade, to answer the question “what do you do when you keep living after you were supposed to die?” which is a persistent theme of both things i’ve written (not just fic) and things i’ve gotten obsessed with. it’s a real chicken and the egg situation whether gundam wing permanently imprinted that question on my brain (the show, IMO and IIRC, broaches it on a couple different occasion but ultimately never spends enough time in any kind of aftermath that it comes up with an answer), or whether there was already something there in that question for me and that’s why as a person with really zero interest in giant robot fighting shows i got obsessed with gundam wing.

3. Do you write fics from start to finish, or jump around?

i used to be verrrry strict about going from start to finish, because often with a project of any length i’ve been writing towards some kind of final image or idea that compelled me enough to figure out how i could get there, and i feel like if i eat the carrot too soon i’ll get off the hamster wheel and the story will never actually be finished. i think i also tend to have a fear that if i jump past the place where i don’t know what goes next, i’ll just never figure it out. i’m trying to cultivate more flexibility around this and convince myself that building up words is a good thing even if it leaves me with gaps i have to fill in, but it requires some degree of deliberate effort.

4. Do you outline before you start writing? If so, how far do you stray from that outline?

i would say i usually start writing without an outline, and then at some point hit a kind of critical mass where i feel like i need to make an outline in order to continue because i need to sort of feel the shape of the thing i’m writing. i think very consciously about cause/effect, character, and the general problem of how to get from one thing to the next, but i work out the structure much more intuitively - my first incarnation of an outline will usually be a mix of scenes i know i need or want in there, and placeholders for scenes that i suspect will be necessary in order to get the pacing right or give it enough room to breathe or keep a thread alive between larger developments, etc. so my outlines are pretty undetailed and tentative (lots of things like “julia - hedge talk maybe?” and “idk some kind of spellcraft thing here?” and “eliot feelings convo”), and the idea of straying from them is, like, well there’s not really that much to stray from. the main ways that i’ve deviated from outlines are (this is constant) situations where i realized i needed more scenes to do something properly, and times when i’ve incorrectly problem-solved the first time and had to go back and re-do something that wasn’t working. i have yet to write a fic where it turns into substantially different (as opposed to just… much, much larger) than whatever i had in mind by the time i jotted down an outline.

#askbox #writing tag #this was perfect of past me to reblog right before my brain hit peak like #Oh The Lack Of Sleep + Lack Of Adderall + Excess Of Caffeine Is Really Making Itself Felt

[veliseraptor]

mmkay been struggling with feeling like my writing tanks are empty but sometimes this helps. if nothing else maybe it’ll help me fuckin’...finish something, eh

so it’s a 150 words meme! send me up to 3 numbers from the following list and I’ll write 150 words in that project. twelve fics and some stuff in here is even not yi city centric if you can believe it

1. “I’m gonna be gone,” Xue Yang said, “for a little while.” 

He was sprawled across Xiao Xingchen’s lap, shirt rucked up in a decidedly distracting way. What he said, though, jarred Xiao Xingchen’s thoughts away from thinking about that kissable strip of skin, and not very pleasantly. 

“What?” 

Xue Yang’s nose wrinkled. “I have to go out of town. Work stuff. This one client, stupid rich…he wants to meet me in person, apparently. He’s got some big job and…” He shrugged one shoulder. Xiao Xingchen’s stomach squirmed. 

“Is that…unusual?” 

“Yeah, sort of,” Xue Yang said. “I mean, I’ve done shit for this guy before, but I guess he didn’t care about the personal factor or whatever it is. Or maybe it’s something illegal and he doesn’t want a digital trail.” Xiao Xingchen’s eyes widened and Xue Yang laughed. “You’re so easy. It’s fine, Xingchen. I promise if he tries to lock me in his sex dungeon I’ll run for the hills.” (Redux)

2. You summoned the other corpses. 

“Just one isn’t very threatening,” Xue Yang said. “All weak, and I didn’t tell them to kill anyone–” 

You lied. You said there were no puppets left. 

“There weren’t,” Xue Yang said. “I made new ones.” 

It’s disrespectful, Song Lan snapped, frustrated. You’re desecrating the remains of innocent people–

“Yeah, yeah, it’s an abomination, if you’re looking for an excuse to finish what you started then stop talking and just fucking do it,” Xue Yang snarled, his muscles bunching tighter. “I could do anything and you’d find something wrong with it even when it’s helping you–” 

You aren’t helping me. Just yourself.

Xue Yang’s mouth set. To Song Lan’s surprise he didn’t immediately snap back, eyes suddenly gone flat black. “Yeah,” he said after a couple moments, his voice darker and uglier. “Right. So are you going to kill me or just keep telling me everything I did wrong this time?” (Walking Far From Home)

3. “Accept Christ,” Lymond said, “and my deformities shall disappear. Deny him, and I am cast out of the body public. Is that it?” 

Gabriel knelt, beginning to remove the dressings. “You cast out yourself,” he said mildly. “If you refer to your convalescence…I am given to understand it is exhaustion and overwork that brought on your collapse. You drive yourself hard, my dear.” 

“I do what I must,” said Lymond. “Should I let my opponent set the pace, instead?” 

“Your opponent,” Gabriel said, setting the soiled bandages aside. Lymond made no move to pull away, head turned just slightly to retain view of him as he examined the wound, livid and angry. “Your metaphors are all of war.” He paused, leveling a clear gaze at Lymond. “Is it any surprise there should be casualties, when such is your approach?” 

“You made it so,” Lymond said, suddenly blunt. Gabriel’s expression changed not at all. (et ipsi sunt jacula)

4. He slid his fingers into my hair then and pulled my head back until my neck hurt and then said, “do you know what I am going to do to you now, darling?”

I swallowed and shook my head. 

“It is an old piece of magic,” Malkar said, and his voice was like velvet, but velvet with a knife under it or something, and I’d’ve sworn I could feel it all the way down in my bones. “It is called the obligation d’sang. Do you know what that means?”

I shook my head again. 

“It is also known as the binding-by-blood,” Malkar said, still in that voice, and he let me go and stood up. “You are my student now, Felix. Do you know what that makes me?” 

“My master,” I whispered.

“Yes,” he said, and I could hear him smiling. Then he let go of my hair and moved away. I lay still and took shallow breaths and shivered, my heart pounding in my stomach.

Malkar knelt straddling me and I arched up against him without thinking but he shoved me back down, pinning me flat. “Hold still, darling,” he said. “This is delicate work. Don’t make me start over.” 

Then he cut into me, and I put together that binding-by-blood meant mine, and all at once remembered a hundred horrible stories about blood-witches like Vey Coruscant. “Wait,” I said, but he ignored me, and then the magic took hold and I couldn’t say anything at all. (Pygmalion)

5. After a moment Xue Yang added, “what if you could bring them back? Like Wei-qianbei did with his Ghost General. Did you ever think about trying?” 

“No,” Jiang Yanli said. “Never.”

Xue Yang made a sort of ‘huh’ noise. “Would you want to?” 

“It wouldn’t work,” was, awfully, the first thing Jiang Yanli said. “A-Cheng and Zixuan both had Soul-Calming Ceremonies.” And a-Xian…there had been, she knew, official attempts to summon his ghost in order to destroy it for good, with no result. “And…it would be wrong, besides.” 

Xue Yang made a dismissive sort of noise. “Right, wrong, what does it matter?” he said. “It’s not like it makes a difference. It’s not like people are going around rewarding the righteous and punishing the wicked. So why not do what you want if you can get away with it?” 

“It’s not what I want,” Jiang Yanli said, even if it wasn’t entirely true. Of course a part of her wanted it. Of course a part of her wished…

But she knew it wouldn’t be the same.

“Huh,” Xue Yang said. “Well, if you ever change your mind…I’d be up for trying again.” With that, apparently ignorant of how it made Jiag Yanli’s stomach jump and twist, Xue Yang rolled up to his feet and stretched. “Okay,” he said. “I should probably go, I guess. But I’ll see you later, right?” and just like that, he was gone.

She dreamed about it that night. Dreamed that she stood at Lotus Pier, looking out at the water, and she could feel her brothers at her sides – a-Xian on the left and a-Cheng on the right. But she didn’t want to turn her head and look. A-Xian took her hand with skeletal fingers, bone worn smooth. 

Welcome home, shijie, he said, in a voice like a terrible cold wind. But she wasn’t afraid. (this world is gonna break your heart)

6. “Does Wei Wuxian know?” Jin Ling asked quietly after a couple moments of silence. Jiang Cheng set the letter aside.

“About this specifically? No. I imagine he’s well aware of the fact that he still has enemies.” 

“Maybe,” Jin Ling said slowly, “you should mention it to him?”

Jiang Cheng managed to keep himself from giving his nephew an incredulous stare, not sure whether to start with that would require us speaking to each other or you want me to make the first thing I say to Wei Wuxian after eight months of silence to be ‘someone is writing me letters to convince me to kill you’? and not really inclined to say either aloud. Even less inclined to try to express how it felt to wonder, with an unpleasant twist, if Wei Wuxian would take it as a warning or a threat.  (through thistles and thorns)

7. “Where?” He asked the Seeker wearily. There was no point in refusing her; Seekers got what they wanted, and Cullen suspected this woman more than most. 

“The Gallows,” she said, turning toward the door, clearly with the expectation that he would follow. Cullen stood, and did. 

“Did I get your name?” He asked as they walked into the street. 

“Cassandra Pentaghast,” she said, her eyes straight ahead. Cullen couldn’t help turning to stare at her. 

“The Dragonslayer?” 

Oddly, she didn’t seem pleased. “I have been called that, yes.” 

He couldn’t decide if it was a good sign or a bad one that the Seekers had sent the Dragonslayer herself to talk to him. Considering the trend of his life so far, probably a bad one. But that was rank self-pity, and he shouldn’t indulge in it. (Salvage)

8. “I don’t usually do this,” Xiao Xingchen said breathlessly. Xue Yang pushed his hips up, squeezing the tops of his thighs where he was straddling him.

“Do what,” he said. “Go home with strange boys you meet in bars?” 

He meant it as a joke, but Xiao Xingchen looked serious when he nodded. “Not really,” he said. “But you’re…” He reached out, fingers brushing Xue Yang’s cheek with sudden and startling gentleness. “There’s something about you.”

Xue Yang stared at him, knocked off kilter by how fast Xiao Xingchen had veered off script. (spin me right round)

9. “Hello, Chengmei,” he said, calm and even. It was always better to at least act calm, dealing with Xue Yang. He treated fear like a wolf scenting blood. “How are you feeling?” 

Xue Yang let out a series of huffs that might have been laughter. “What’s it look like,” he said. “Should’ve…should’ve killed me better the first time, a-Yao. Wouldn’t be causing you trouble now then.” 

“As necessary as it was at the time, I’m not unhappy to see you’re alive,” Jin Guangyao said, which brought back the expression of consternation. He knelt down and held out one hand. “Let me feel your pulse. Do you know what’s happening?” 

“Yeah,” said Xue Yang, after a pause in which Jin Guangyao thought he was considering lying. There was sweat beading visibly on his forehead, his expression tight with pain. Jin Guangyao had seen him shake off open, bleeding wounds as insignificant. Either that had always been pretense or what he was feeling now was worse. 

“If you tell me, I will be better able to help you,” Jin Guangyao said, when Xue Yang didn’t elaborate. “As it is…” 

“I’m fine,” Xue Yang interrupted. “I’m fine, everything’s fine, I didn’t mean to – I wasn’t supposed to–” Of all things, he glared over at Song Zichen.

“Of course,” Jin Guangyao said soothingly. “I know. When did Song Zichen-daozhang die?” 

Xue Yang’s expression did something strange again, somehow furtive and miserable at once. “A while. Doesn’t matter.” 

It very clearly did matter, but Jin Guangyao wasn’t going to push. Not on that, anyway. “Did you kill him?” 

“No,” Xue Yang said. “I mean. Sort of. I would’ve. But I didn’t. Not exactly.”

That clarified exactly nothing and raised a great many more questions. (these are our times (the end times))

10. There were the things about Jinlintai that Xue Yang expected to appreciate (good food, warm bed, consistent supply of sweets), and the annoying things that he might’ve predicted if he’d thought about them (the people, mostly). 

Then there was the shit that came as a surprise, like the performances that got put on sometimes. Plays of stories he sometimes knew and sometimes didn’t, some better and some worse and some just stupid as all fuck. 

“Was that supposed to be Liu Qiuyue?” Xue Yang asked Jin Guangyao, who paused, pulling his brush away from the letter he was writing, and looked at him. Xue Yang waved a hand. “Last night. The story. That’s what it was, right?” 

“I believe so,” Jin Guangyao said after another moment, setting the brush down. Xue Yang smothered a smile of triumph at the indication that he had his attention. “Why do you ask?” 

“Cause it was different than the version I’d heard,” Xue Yang said. “The story I knew she wasted away cause she wouldn’t eat after Prince what’s-his-name turned her down. But this one had her…” He wrinkled his nose. “Puking petals, or something. Unless that was supposed to be symbolic.” (xuexiao hanahaki au)

11. “I,” Anders said, “was thinking about the Hanged Man. I’d pay a lot of money right now for their piss-flavored beer. And that soup–”

Fenris raised his eyebrows. “The one with the chunks of unidentified meat in it?”

“Yeah, that one,” Anders said with a bit of a laugh. “I heard Merrill ask what was in it once and the barkeeper wouldn’t say. Hawke said one time she found a rat skull in her bowl but I’m pretty sure she was making it up.” 

An unwilling smile tugged at the corner of Fenris’s mouth. “Better than anything you’d find in Darktown.”

“Oh, well,” Anders said. “At least there they’d just give you the whole rat on a skewer. You knew what you were getting into.” 

Fenris’s laugh startled him. Anders grinned, looking pleased with himself, as wet and bedraggled as he was. It had been a while since the last time he’d laughed, Fenris realized. Probably since he’d left Hawke. 

That killed his laughter and he looked away from that grin, suddenly annoyed by its smugness. (the best all lack conviction)

12. The next morning Song Lan wasn’t certain he hadn’t dreamed the whole thing. But he wasn’t certain he hadn’t, either. It shouldn’t be possible - he’d been deliberately thorough disposing of Xue Yang’s corpse, and made heavy use of suppression arrays. There had been a part of him that thought let him lie like a dead dog in the street for his body to be desecrated as he did to so many but almost immediately he’d been ashamed, and the pragmatic part of him knew it was too great a risk. 

And some dim part of him, too, looked at Xue Yang’s empty eyes fixed on a piece of candy in one limp hand and felt a miserable sort of pity. Bitter and unwanted, but it lingered nonetheless. 

But the memory was so very clear. Xue Yang’s voice, precisely as he remembered it. The black feeling that had been plaguing him lately.

If anyone could somehow cling to the world of the living in spite of everything that said it should be impossible, it would be Xue Yang. (the poison in your bones)

#i almost put mcu fic on this but i'm not quite there yet #150 words meme #fic excerpt #so yeah. hit me

[elysian-prince]

When you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers, if you can. Let’s spread the self-love. ♥️

Thank you for sending this to me 🥺💜

I don't think I'm going to include WIPs on this list, though I really only have one ongoing fic that's partially published right now.

i just want you for my own (obikin, modern AU, fluff, idiots to lovers)

I'll forever be proud of the dialogue during the car scene in the first chapter and how naturally the banter flows between the boys. It's also the beginning of my favorite AU, so it's very dear to me.

just let me love you (obikin, modern AU, fluff and smut)

Well, of course this one is on my list :3c Another piece of my modern AU and my attempt to win your affections. I think it worked? 😉

dreams of summer (obikin, canon divergent, friends to lovers)

The longest finished fic I’ve written so far! I’m extremely proud of the writing in this one, and I think it’s probably my absolute best work.

in the drift (stevetony, Pacific Rim AU)

I put a lot of thought into this fic and tried to put a spin on PacRim AUs that I’ve not seen before, and I still love this fic whenever I go and re-read it from time to time.

Twelve Days (stevetony, modern AU w/ ghosts, fluff and angst)

This was the first multi-chapter fic I ever finished, and while it’s some of my earlier writing and not quite as strong as I can write now, I really enjoy going back and reading it during Christmastime. It’s definitely got some of my best Tony lines in it.

#asks and replies #elyse.txt #tag games #my fics

[acefusti138]

(Don’t You) Shy Away — Spencer x Fem!Reader

summary: Reader is supposed to be away for the weekend for her cousin’s first art gallery opening. Spencer takes the time to dip his toes back in the water of an old treat he hasn’t trusted himself with since Mexico. Reader comes home early to find him… A little preoccupied.

a/n: this is my first time actually posting a written fanfic/blurb on tumblr since like,,, 2015?? please be gentle i’m doing my best and cannot get this scenario out of my head this is 10000% self-indulgence. please let me know in the replies if i’ve missed any tags or warnings!

pairing: post season 12!spencer x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ CONTENT MINORS DNI! masturbation, voyeurism, anal play, pegging, use of sex toys (dildo, cock ring, vibrator), switch!Spencer, switch!Reader, implied sexual assault (while Spencer was in prison) [no graphic depictions], coming untouched, multiple orgasms, use of pet names, unprotected sex (always practice safe sex, in this fic reader and spencer are actively trying to have kids), creampie, aftercare, depictions of dropping after a scene, use of she/her pronouns for reader.

words: 6.0k

Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes.

That was how long it had been since ____ had left, a suitcase full of far-too-expensive clothes in tow as she headed out for the opening of her cousin’s first art exhibition in New York for the weekend. Spencer had declined the invitation to join his fiancé, as seeing his knowledge of the art world was… Limited, at best. Sure, he could explain how the works were made, and could profile what each piece meant, but in a post-modern art gallery, that wasn’t always what people wanted to hear. So, instead, he had kissed ____ sweetly, told her to send his well wishes and congratulations to her cousin, and then she was off on her way.

Which left him home alone for thirteen more hours.

He hadn’t been left truly alone in a long time— Though he knew exactly how many days it had been since he gained his freedom again, he chose not to think about it for his own peace of mind. A form of coping, he called it. Still, it had been months since it had just been him to keep himself company. He’d finished the small bit of laundry that hadn’t been done two hours ago, and washed the dishes six hours prior to that. As usual, he’d finished three books before deciding to take a rest, played himself at chess a few times and even took a small cat nap on the couch.

Twenty-seven hours and forty-four minutes since she had left, and ____ wasn’t due home for another twelve hours.

Sighing deeply, Spencer slowly sat up from the couch, raking long fingers through the haphazard mess of his curls and making a mental note to himself to have ____ give his hair a bit of a trim when she got home. She loved everything about his hair— She was the one who had managed to get him to finally start taking proper care of it after years of letting the two-in-one shampoo and conditioner do a number on those impossibly soft strands. Of course, having his hair trimmed usually meant having it… Played with, afterwards. ____ had a naughty little habit of tugging it just right and making his back arch, giving a little nibble to the nape of his neck and making him groan as she teased him. It had been a long while since they had done anything even remotely beyond that— After Mexico, it was like everything they had gone through together was hit with a hard reset, all the way down to the simplest of touches beyond hugs and hand-holding.

But he had grown since then. Though he no longer could handle gags of any kind, and still yellowed-out more often than not when it came to restraints, Spencer had come a long way from where he had been left at after those grueling three months. Standing up and realizing that he had the perfect opportunity to finally try and see where his boundaries stood with an old favorite, he shed his cardigan on the couch, leaving his phone in the pocket of it without a care. It had been only four days since he and ____ had last had sex, but he really had to think about the last time he had actually gotten off on his own, without his fiancé there with him, coaxing him to keep going or edging him for hours.

“Fuck,” Just thinking about his lover, with her big doe eyes and coy smile, cooing to him with her hand around the base of his cock that he was such a good boy, that he only had to wait a little longer before he could come— His hand drifted down to palm himself through the material of his jeans, teeth worrying into the soft skin of his bottom lip at the memory. Even better still was the memory of years before; back when they had still been but bumbling twenty-somethings, both of them still inexperienced and desperate and willing to try almost anything.

“Are you sure you wanna try it, Spence? We don’t have to— I know I already said I suggested it as a joke and I meant it! Please tell me you understand that if you don’t wanna do this, you can back out and I’ll completely understand—!”

“____,” Spencer cut off his girlfriend’s nervous rambling with a gentle but steady shift to cup her cheek, “I-I— I want to do this, okay? I just… I-I’ve… Never touched myself down there before. I know it can feel good, and that’s… Why we agreed to test it out. I-I’m just… Kind of nervous and embarrassed at the same time? If… That makes sense? I just— I want to do this. I promise,” His voice went a tad bit softer at the end, “I trust you to take care of me and make me feel good, ____.”

“Come on, love, where the hell did you hide it this time?” Spencer whispered to himself, carefully rummaging through their box of toys and trying to ignore how his cock throbbed impatiently as he passed over one of their vibrators. Some instinctual part of his body just seemed to know how good the toy had made him feel before; how it had brought him to the brink over and over and over again while he was being punished for mouthing off during a case. How his ruthless lover had held it against the hypersensitive head of his cock for what felt like hours despite the ring around his base keeping him from coming. A small shudder ran through him as he skimmed over said cock ring, his body remembering with perfect clarity how he had finally come so hard he had nearly blacked out for a moment, no cum even escaping him and a wail tearing through his throat from the raw, unadulterated pleasure.

“Spence— Spence, baby, baby, hey— Look at me, baby, can you look at me? Are you with me, sweetheart?” ____’s soft voice was just barely audible over the ringing in his ears, and Spencer managed a small nod. “Okay, good… You’re doing so good for me, baby. Can you talk right now?” A small shake of his head before he felt himself pitch forward ever-so-slightly, a strangled whimper escaping him as ____ easily caught him against her chest, the skin-to-skin contact grounding him. “Shh… I’ve got you, Spence. You’re safe with me… You came so hard I was afraid you had blacked out on me,” She admitted, carefully pulling Spencer’s gangly form into her lap with practiced ease.

“Didn’ mean… D-Didn’ mean t’… Tried t’ be good… Couldn’ stop it,” His voice felt thick and alien on his tongue as he spoke, head tucking into the known safety of his lover’s arms. ____ had always known how to care for him exactly the way he needed after each scene, no matter how tame or intense. It went the same way with him, but his eidetic memory made it far easier to remember how his lover tended to him.

As ____ held him, stroking her fingers carefully over the planes of his back, he felt his eyelids growing heavier, trying stubbornly to droop shut and give in to his body’s cry for sleep. Thankfully, he didn’t have to fight off his impending cat-nap— He knew his lover would be there to tend to him as soon as he awoke. Even if it meant they didn’t complete everything they had initially planned for the night, ____ would never grow truly angry with him for needing to take a break between sessions.

“Fuck,” Spencer breathed as he finally found what he was looking for in the box— A six-inch dildo; thin and a tanned, fleshy pink. It was the one ____ had used on him as a strap-on many times before, when they were younger and more desperate to figure out exactly what made the other tick. Swallowing hard, the brunet carefully grabbed the toy and the disinfectant that they made sure to always keep in the toy box, taking it to the en suite bathroom of their bedroom and carefully cleaning the toy of any dust that had collected. His pants were already starting to feel almost painfully tight against his cock, his hand moving down to palm against it and provide even just a tinge of temporary relief and some much-needed friction. Once the toy in his hands was cleaned to his standard, he went back to the bedroom, biting his lip as he stripped down to his boxers and settled onto the plush sheets of their bed. Already, his breathing was ragged and strained, soft pants escaping his bitten lips as he lazily palmed himself, letting his mind wander where it wished.

“It may be a little cold at first, I tried to warm it up,” ____ warned, her finger carefully dipping down to stroke between his legs first. Spencer just nodded slowly, exhaling deeply through his nose and trying to ignore how his breath hitched as her first finger pressed into him, not even half-an-inch in yet. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine— I-It just… Feels odd. Not bad, just… I-I need a second,” Spencer mumbled, letting his head tuck into the soft pillows cocooning them and whimpering openly as ____’s finger moved carefully in small circles just inside his rim. His hips jerked involuntarily, and he whined as she shifted to hold them still with her forearm, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Ngh, fuck,” Curses slipped from his lips so much easier now, especially as he fumbled open the bedside drawer and grasped at the well-loved bottle of lubricant. He had shimmed his boxers down to his mid-thighs, now, breathing harder and face stained a lovely crimson as he stroked himself. He knew better than to grip too hard too fast and ruin the fun early, quietly sinking his teeth into his bottom lip again as he let his thumb skim over the slit, hips bucking into the touch instinctively. He let himself sink deeper into the pillows, legs slowly spreading open and hands shaking.

“I’m gonna add the rest of my finger in now, Spence, okay?” ____’s voice was sugar-sweet in his ear, lavish kisses trailing just behind it; down the pale column of his throat to his collarbones like dripping honey.

His head felt hazy already, and he gave another undignified whimper as the rest of his lover’s finger sunk into him, the heat that had cooled slightly in his belly reigniting as she gripped his hip with her free hand to prop him up a bit higher, giving her easier access.

“Such a good boy for me, Spence… You’re taking me so well already, it must feel good, huh?” She was starting to fall into a more dominant role already, her loving words only making the other whimper and squirm.

“Oh, fuck,” Spencer’s breath hitched sharply as he sunk his finger inside himself, head falling back against the pillows once more and eyes fluttering shut. It had been at least three years since he had done anything of the sort like this, and it was quickly bringing back vivid memories of all the times before that his ruthless lover had turned him to putty in her hands just with a few careful quirks of her fingers. He lifted his hips a bit more, a small shudder running up his spine as the pad of his index finger just missed the spongey flesh of his prostate.

“Fuck! R-Right there, Miss, please!” Spencer could barely keep his voice steady as ____’s finger brushed against his sweet spot, tears of pleasure burning at the corners of his eyes, threatening to drip down his cheeks.

“Aw, was that your good spot baby? Hm? You need to tell me what it is you want me to do, baby, otherwise I won’t know how to make you feel good,” ____ cooed, her finger now purposefully avoiding the area.

Spencer all but sobbed impatiently, his legs quivering and hips lifting up on his own accord. “P-Please, Miss, I-I need more,” He pleaded, giving a strangled gasp as ____’s free hand grabbed at the sharp lines of his jaw and turned his head to properly look at her.

“Look at me when you speak, baby boy, it’s impolite not to,” She ordered, a second finger now circling the twitching rim of her poor, needy boyfriend.

“I-I’m sorry Miss, please— I-It felt so good, please, I need—!” Spencer was cut off by ____’s second finger sinking into him without warning, his eyes going wide before they wrung shut, a loud mewl of pleasure escaping him. His hand scrabbled to grasp at the base of his cock clearly trying to stave off his impending orgasm before it could wash over him. Thankfully, ____ chose to ignore the motion— She knew that, since it was his first time with any kind of anal play, she should go easy on him.

As he finally managed to sink a third finger into himself, Spencer could only grip at the base of his cock just enough to keep himself together— Any tighter and he risked it causing the opposite effect. Sweat was already dripping past the toned, smooth planes of his back and down his chest, and a part of him wished he’d had the foresight to tie part of his hair back. It was too late for that now, though; A pitiful sense of emptiness that he hadn’t felt in years was bubbling up in the pit of his stomach with each curl of his fingers. His heart was pounding already, and he gave a ragged groan deep in his throat as his index finger skimmed over his prostate again, back arching up into the touch as if he wasn’t in complete control of his own fingers.

“Do you think you’re ready now, baby? You’re opened up so pretty for me, sweet boy. I think it’s time to give you what you’ve been waiting for, hm?” ____’s voice in his ear had Spencer bucking his hips back desperately, mind already completely fogged over from the haze of pleasure threatening to leave him nothing more than a mewling mess.

“Yes, yes, Miss, please!” He practically wept, head burrowed back into the safety of the pillows to try and muffle his noises.

“Ah-ah, baby… Come on now, sweetheart, you know better than to try and hide those beautiful noises you make. You know I can’t give you a treat if you break the rules, honey,” ____’s hand was still curling dutifully within him, always just shy of full-on fucking his prostate directly, and it was leaving his head practically blank beyond how good it felt.

“I-I’m sorry— I’m sorry, Miss, I’ll be good. Please, I-I need it so badly, Miss, please!”

“Please,” His voice sounded so utterly wrecked that at first it didn’t even register that it was him pleading out to the open air for more. Finally deciding that he was ready enough to take it without harm, he pulled his fingers away, whining weakly as his thighs burned in protest from the unused angle. Thankfully, he did have the foresight to keep a towel and some water nearby for cleanup, making sure to clean off his hands with some hand sanitizer before he finally grasped at the toy he could already feel an old, desperate part of his mind aching for.

His body clearly remembered just how good the toy had helped him feel before, his heavy cock twitching against the slight softness of his abdomen, precum smearing against his flushed skin and making him moan out. He was still careful to properly lube up the toy, slipping a condom onto it for ease of clean-up more than anything else before he shifted back into the most comfortable position he could manage. His eyes fluttered shut, a ragged noise spilling from deep in his throat as he let the tip sink in. A small part of his mind tightened in panic, flashes of grubby hands holding on his wrists and hips tight enough to bruise threatening to bubble up to the surface. Thankfully, though, he forced himself to remember something much better, brows creasing and breaths escaping him in rough little gasps.

“H-How much is in, Miss?” His voice sounded so breathless, so fucked and raw already, that ____ had to clench her thighs together to halt the instinct to buck forward into her lover.

“Only half of it, baby. Do you need me to wait?” She whispered, moving to cup Spencer’s cheek and feeling her heart melt a bit in adoration as he nosed against her palm with a contented whine. “Use your words please, sweet boy. I know you can, you’ll be so good for me if you use your words. Can you be a good boy for me, sweetheart?” Her loving coos were met with Spencer nodding eagerly, his mouth falling open to give a soft moan before he spoke.

“I can take more, Miss,” Spencer panted, taking ____’s thumb into his mouth and suckling on it to prove his point— It had ____’s breath hitching sharply, feeling her lover’s deft tongue lapping and suckling on her finger like his life depended on it.

“Do you want me to fuck your mouth with my fingers, baby? Hm? You’re suckling them like you want me to fuck your cute little throat, sweet boy,” ____ leaned down to Spencer’s ear, pressing her thumb down a bit harder on his tongue and reveling in the choked mewl of pleasure he gave in response.

“Please, Miss,” Spencer’s words were slurred from the pleasure as he finally sunk down completely on the stationary toy, thighs quivering visibly from the exertion and chest heaving out every few moments. He was honestly trying to collect himself and adjust before he came too soon and ruined the fun— It was a struggle. His back arched up slowly as he let his right hand drift down to his cock from where it had been gripping the sheets below him, a strangled whine slipping from his throat as he wrapped his large palm around the steadily-leaking base of his desire and need.

He was so wrapped up in his own world, jerking at his aching cock as he slowly began to raise and lower himself on the toy, that had he missed the sound of the garage door opening and closing— As had he neglected to hear the chime of the alarm system going off from the garage entrance to their condo.

Thus, as ____ walked into their bedroom, she most certainly wasn’t expecting to find her fiancé, jerking himself off with three of his fingers in his mouth, eyes shut in pure bliss and broken mewls of please and more spilling from his swollen lips every few time he sunk his hips down.

“Holy shit,” ____ squeaked, heat dropping straight to her core at the sight. She had been trying to call her lover to let him know the gallery had wrapped up a bit early due to her cousin scoring an interview with a rather prestigious and well-liked collaborative of environmental artists. She hadn’t been able to get ahold of Spencer, but, considering the late hour, she had written it off as him being asleep.

Spencer still had his eyes shut, thighs burning in the best way possible at this point and chest heaving with exertion. He pulled his fingers away from his mouth; the clumsy, less-practiced movements of his left hand clearly not as good as his dominant hand. Before he could swap hands, though, his eyes blinked open just the smallest bit, revealing to him a slightly blurry figure at the doorway of the master bedroom.

“Spence,” ____ breathed, rushing over to him before he could panic at the sight of someone suddenly being in their room, “God, baby, what’s all this?” She whispered, cupping at Spencer’s jaw and reveling in how the stubble there scratched at her fingers.

“____,” Spencer’s voice was practically wheezed out, strung-out and high in his throat from the pleasure still thrumming through his veins, “You’re home early… I wanted to… T-To try,” He could barely gather his thoughts further before he was surging forward like a man possessed, lips crashing together with the far softer set of his lover’s own. He could taste the tinges of the sweet wine she must have had at the gala on her tongue, and cupped her jaw feverishly, trying to pull her closer.

Finally, ____ had to break away for air, breathing hard and tangling her fingers through Spencer’s hair to keep him from whining and trying to kiss her again. “Baby,” She whispered, instinctively holding onto his hip with her free hand to try and keep him still, “Were you making yourself feel good?”

Spencer just nodded, eyes all glassy and dazed as he caught his breath. “I don’t want to stop,” He whispered, starting to squirm a little and trying to rock his hips back down on the toy still seated within him.

“Baby, I need to know if you’re here with me enough to do a scene,” ____ had a feeling Spencer was a bit too far gone in the pleasure to properly agree to a scene, and lo-and-behold, Spencer’s brows furrowed a bit in thought before he shook his head, curls falling into his eyes.

“It feels too good,” He whined, “I don’t wanna stop— I just want to feel you,” He pleaded, groaning breathlessly in relief as ____’s hand loosened it’s stilling hold on his hip, allowing him to properly rock back down on the dildo still seated within him.

“Okay, baby. We can do that,” ____ nodded, pulling away for a moment and feeling heat throb insistently between her legs at the desperate whine of protest that spilled from Spencer’s swollen lips. “I have to be able to take my clothes off, baby, it’s okay—!” She was cut off with a squeak of surprise as Spencer tugged her close again, nimble fingers easily pulling the buttons of her silken blouse open and unclasping her bra with far-too-practiced ease.

“Need you now,” Spencer practically growled, promptly starting to layer rough, hungry kisses all across the span of her chest, biting at her collarbones and suckling dark marks there. ____ could barely manage to gather her thoughts enough to lift her hips and tug down the pressed white slacks of her pantsuit, crying out softly as Spencer’s greedy palm dove down to her dripping wet core, shoving her panties to the side just enough to dip his fingers into her.

“Fuck, Spence— Let me get my pants off and I’ll ride you,” She whispered, her own hands moving to grasp at his hips again, feeling how he was still rutting down against the toy like his life depended on it. He gave a hitched groan deep in his throat at the idea, and as she pulled up for a moment to kick off her pants, she couldn’t help but grin. “Does that sound good, sweetheart? Huh? You’re so needy you want more than just my sweet cunt wrapped around your thick cock? Huh? You need to be fucked, too?” She whispered against her ear, the shudder that rocked up her lover’s spine making her whine in approval.

“I didn’t think you were going to be home early,” Spencer huffed against her shoulder, making an annoyed noise as she gripped his hips firmly again to keep him still.

“Relax, baby. I don’t want you moving while I’m trying to get situated— Let me take care of you,” ____ soothed, seeing the look of discontent on her lover’s face as he was prevented from fucking himself back on the toy again. The tension quickly dissipated from his face as ____ pushed her panties to the side, pulling his fingers from her depths and sinking down to him in one smooth motion.

A choked whimpering noise slipped from Spencer, his eyes rolling back before they fluttered shut, body sinking into the pillows once more. “Oh my god,” His voice was strained, like his sanity was being held on by nothing but a thread. “Fuck— Fuck, oh my fucking god,” A slew of desperate little curses were spilling from his lips like a mantra, and ____ couldn’t hold back a squeak of surprise as his hips bucked up almost helplessly, like he couldn't control how his body was reacting to how good it felt. A part of ____ was reminded of their first time together, all those years ago, when they were still in their first few years at the BAU and wanted only to please the other.

“Use me however you want, baby,” ____ encouraged, seeing how feverishly her lover was rolling his hips down onto the toy beneath him and dipping down to kiss him, “Or do you want me to ride you properly while you fuck your needy little hole?” She offered, relishing the way Spencer nodded weakly, clearly too lost in the throes of his own pleasure to respond. Grinning, she gladly did exactly that— Milking around his cock each time he sunk down onto the toy within him and grinding her hips each time he rose up.

Spencer had become nothing more than an incoherent mess at that point, eyes rolled back from the sheer amount of pleasure overwhelming his every movement and thought. All he could do was choke out whining, pleasured little babbles of how good it felt, trying to comprehend which to turn towards to more. On one hand, his lover’s sweet, velvety heat swallowed around him like it was made just to make him lose his sanity, undulating his every move with another ripple of bliss. On the other hand, every time his hips rocked back, the rubbery head of the dildo within him fucked right up into his prostate, sending pleasure sparking down his spine with only a trail of burning want in its wake. It was like being caught between a rock and a hard place, but in the best way possible.

“Are you getting close, baby?” ____ murmured, feeling how her lover’s movements were growing more wild and frantic, as they always did when he was getting close to his limit.

Spencer could only nod, his eyes wringing shut and hands gripping at her thighs and hips for dear life— He needed something to anchor him to reality, otherwise the pleasure threatening to swallow him whole may just wash away what little sanity he had left. He was a man drowning in a sea of paradise, and ____ was his anchor, keeping the tides from washing him away. “Fuck,” He nearly sobbed, voice strangled and high in his throat, “I-I can’t— God, fuck, it feels so good,” Tears were pooling just beneath his eyelids, voice hitching higher yet as ____ sunk down deep onto him, hell bent on milking him for everything he had. “Please— P-Please, fuck, I-I’m gonna come— Please, please, please—!” The coil of heat boiling in his belly finally snapped, hips fucking up feverishly into the luxurious heat still wrapped around his cock. Tears spilled freely down his cheeks as he rode out the high, body collapsing into the pillows as his back arched up, quaking visibly and abdomen tensing up every few moments as he struggled to get a handle on the molten desire setting his every nerve on fire.

____ sobbed out as soon as Spencer came, barely able to catch her breath as his large palms gripped at the sensitive flesh of her thighs and hips like a man possessed, effectively keeping her in place. She could feel him twitching and rutting his hips up into her even as he came, painting her insides as if to claim every last inch of her as his. Only when she heard her name spill from her lover’s swollen lips did she finally reach her own limit, instinct taking over for a moment as she pressed herself forward into his arms, head tucking into the crook of his neck. She gave a small whimper as Spencer’s arms hugged back around her torso, clinging openly to her as they rode out the intensive aftershocks of their respective orgasms.

It was ____ who finally started to untangle them, having caught her breath and regained her senses enough to realize that Spencer was more likely in dire need of aftercare. “Spence, sweetheart?” She started softly, trying to pull herself up to sit up and frowning at the familiar cry of pain from hypersensitivity tore from Spencer’s throat the instant she moved. “Shit— Okay, okay, honey, here, I’m gonna pull off, okay? Breathe for me, pretty boy, you’ve done so good for me,” Her babbling came naturally— She could already tell from just how intense everything had been that it was a near-guarantee that Spencer was going to drop; the question was how much was she going to be able to cushion his fall. Gently raising her hips up, she felt her heart ache at how Spencer pressed his head deeper into her shoulder to muffle the whimper that slipped past him. “It’s alright, love. I’m gonna help clean you up, okay? You were so, so good for me, Spence. Can you keep being good and let me help take care of you now?” She asked, sighing in relief as he needed against her shoulder.

Spencer was still trembling within her arms, his breath hitching sharply and body jerking involuntarily as ____’s hand moved down to try and carefully part his legs. “Nn-nnh!” He thought she was trying to go for another round, and knew he would surely pass out.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Spence. I’m just gonna get the toy out and then we can go and calm down in the bath, okay? It’s all okay, you’re safe with me,” ____ murmured, helping him settle back against the pillows again and soothingly stroking at his chest as she helped him spread his legs open again. “It may feel a little tender for a moment, love, just close your eyes and breathe with me, okay?” She instructed, slowly counting to three before she took the base of the dildo and started to pull it out. Her heart clenched painfully at the cry Spencer gave once it was out, legs pressing together to try and protect himself from further overstimulation.

He already knew he was dropping, even with ____’s loving touches and soothing words— His head felt foggy, like it was hazed over, and a small part of him began to panic at the uncomfortably familiar feeling. “____,” He whispered, voice strained, “‘m— I-I think I’m dropping,” As soon as he managed to choke the words out, he was pulled into ____’s embrace without a moment to even figure out what was going on. He was practically in her lap, a weighted blanket being tucked around his shoulders and head cradled in the crook of her neck as she began to slowly stroke his hair.

It had been a long time since he had dropped so hard he ended up needing aftercare this intense.

A tiny part of him was almost embarrassed— When they had been younger, it was a common experience for both of them. They simply hadn’t had enough experience to know the signs of a drop as it was coming, and had to find out the hard way each time what could happen if they weren’t watching out for it. But now? He had seen and experienced so much in his life, and all it took was too much pleasure to send him right back into his fiancé’s arms, shaking like he was a twenty-something again.

“Spence?” ____’s name broke through the mile-a-minute thoughts circling through his brain with ease, and he finally managed to crack open his eyes enough to look at her.

____ could already see the conflict in Spencer’s mind just from those big, beautiful puppy eyes of his. The pupils that had been blown so wide they’d left his eyes nearly black before were now shrinking back down again, revealing the endless pools of hazel in their wake— And said pools of hazel were doing nothing to hide the anxiety and doubt written on his features. His brows had the smallest creasing between them, lower lip partially sucked in between his bottom teeth, jaw tight and Adam’s apple bobbing hard each time he swallowed.

“Hi, love,” ____ didn’t pay any mind to the way Spencer’s sweat-dampened curls stuck to her fingers as she cupped his jaw, tilting his head to look at her. “Come on out of that big brain of yours for me. Just for five minutes. I can already see that look on your face— The one that tells me right about now, you’re starting to think that all this care shouldn’t be necessary for someone who’s seen as much as you have. Am I right?”

Spencer nodded, slowly pressing his cheek into her soft palm before he lifted a hand to cover her’s in his own. “I’m sorry,” He murmured honestly— Not for dropping. No; he was apologizing for allowing his traitorous thoughts to doubt that he was still worthy of ____’s love and care. “This is the first time I’ve… It hasn’t been this intense since…” He didn’t need to say the words aloud for ____ to know what he was referring to.

“And that’s perfectly okay. While I can’t say I claim to know what possessed you to decide that tonight was the night you were going to ride a dildo like your life depended it while I was gone for the weekend, I can say that I know no matter the circumstances, before, during or after, I will always be here to take care of you no matter what you need. No matter if it’s just a glass of water and some cuddles, or me babbling on about something I saw on the Internet for hours to see you smile… I will always love you, Spence. So don’t you try and shy away from it. If you ever feel yourself doubting how much I love you, you come over and tell me and I’ll hug you just like this, real tight, and I won’t let go as long as you need.”

Spencer felt his heart ache, adoration swelling in his chest until it felt about ready to burst. “If we weren’t already engaged, I would ask you to marry me,” He managed to crack a weak smile, the dimpled smile on his lover’s cheeks only making his own smile grow wider. “I love you so much,” He added, leaning back against her chest and letting himself just enjoy the soothing touch.

“You know I love you too,” ____ cooed, leaning down to press soft kisses all across Spencer’s face, cheeks and nose.

After a few minutes of quiet passed, Spencer finally looked up at ____ again, a tiny, playful smile curving over his lips. "So," He started, voice still a bit too soft in his throat to hold any true teasing intent, "Why did you come home early?"

____ laughed, the noise soft and melodic in Spencer's ears as he watched a smile that could rival sunshine in its warmth bloom on her face once more. "The gallery ended early. My cousin ended up scoring a pretty important interview with some big environmental artist collaborative, so I just took the train back home. You would know this if you actually checked your phone, Spence."

"I was a little preoccupied," Spencer reminded with a laugh.

"I'm well aware, love."

———————

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[babblydrabbly]

Distracted (Peacemaker x Reader) Smut

Pairing(s): Peacemaker x F!Reader; Brief Javelin x Reader

Characters: Peacemaker/Christopher Smith, Amanda Waller, Javelin

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warning(s): Smut, language, mentions of blood/violence. Choking, cream pie, semi-rough sex.

Summary: Out on a Task Force X mission, Peacemaker notices you're acting... different. He generously offers to help with what's distracting you. Asshole.

A/N: What's this? Baby's first Peacemaker fic? Takes place before The Suicide Squad (2021). Metahuman!Reader has super strength/speed abilities. Also, what kind of vanilla name is Chris Smith.

---

"Again?"

Amanda Waller arched a brow at your perturbed expression.

"My apologies." She droned. "Am I not stimulating you with enough variety, [L/n]?"

You scoffed, folding your arms in deference. It wasn't about that— It was about the deliberately repeated pairings with Christopher Smith. The dynamic that was becoming a pattern. You never would have worked with someone like Peacemaker on the outside. As much as you appreciated the job always getting done with him, you still bumped heads with him too much on the way to the finish line. He was frustratingly serious and flippant at the same time.

You decided to shut your trap before Waller decided she didn't need you anymore.

"You've got one skillset useful to me, [L/n]. I suggest you get used to the prospect of being paired up with Smith on a regular basis— While you're still around."

You nodded when she dismissed you. You had gotten used to it. You were seeing so much of Peacekeeper you were practically partners.

So, you pointedly sat to next the one called Javelin on the helicopter out of Belle Reve, as far away from Smith as possible. You were about to spend over twelve hours with him— It didn't have to start right away. While Colonel Flag gave you all the spiel on the mission, you glanced over and saw Javelin toss you a nod.

"You're Team B," The thrower noted over the whir of the helicopter. "[L/n], yes?"

"Yeah," you said. Your eyes flitted over the muscular squad member. He looked more like a superhero in his light blue and yellow get-up than the rest of you. You personally kept the lower half of your face covered with a black hard shell mask— Your armor from before you were incarcerated (Yes, you've heard the 'Baby Bane' jokes from the others). Even if you had to get used to working with a bunch of weirdos, you could at least conceal your face from them while you did it.

"You move very swiftly." He complimented, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to take that.

"Thanks," You tried, "I like your... weapon of choice?"

Javelin held his namesake in his arms, his legs spread wide to accommodate it as he rested it against his inner thigh. The innuendo normally would have had you rolling your eyes, but today they lingered, and you wondered if he still looked as broad and muscular without the suit on.

You frowned. Without the suit on?

Were you still staring down at his thighs?

You supposed he was a goddamn Olympic athlete at one point. And prison didn't seem to stop him from his regimen. —There it was again. You blinked and looked away, thankful nobody seemed to notice. Javelin seemed content with the brief introduction, so you left it at that.

Okay, so maybe it had been awhile since you...

You reprimanded yourself. These were not recreational outings. As much as you liked feeling free every once in awhile, you were never in a position to consider doing something so stupid. The last few missions were some of the closest calls you had while on the task force, but now that your job today was more about recon, you could at least let your mind wander to the less... imperative things. You crossed your legs at the ankles in front of you and let mind drift for the rest of the trip.

But christ had prison been rough. And a little boring. You didn’t have to think about Javelin moving closer to you for long— Pressing up flush against you— Before you were imagining yourself against a wall— Hell, right here on this bench— hooking your legs around his waist as he thrusted into you. You pictured him going for two, three rounds, that stupid suit lying on the floor with your back on top of it. You pictured him going down on you too, a handful of his wavy blonde hair in your grasp as you pressed your thighs around his ears. You swallowed behind the mask, glad it was there to hide your face.

You get dropped off an isolated point a few klicks outside the target area, the rest of the team traveling further in to handle the bulk of the mission. You lug some extra equipment in a canvas bag— Guns, surveillance tech— already annoyed by the heat.

The heat of the jungle. Definitely not the heat you'd been feeling in the helicopter. You walked a half mile in total silence just trying to focus on the mission again.

"What's got your tactical suit in a twist?" Smith finally uttered as you got to your destination. You almost forgot he had dropped down the rope onto the ground after you. He stood out against the green around you in his obnoxious red shirt and white pants.

"Nothing." You lied, and you could tell from under his helmet that Peacemaker thought you were full of shit today. Great.

You set up inside a small building— An outpost long abandoned. Whatever organization you were taking down for Waller, they clearly had to downsize over the years. You kicked open the metal door, sending it flying off its hinges. Smith entered first, clearing all the rooms before you joined him. Upstairs, you begin setting up the equipment together. Peacemaker started with standing up a rifle by the window, aiming it at the road below.

You fiddled with a tablet; You went downstairs to put a sensor on the door frame and on the rusted gate blocking the road outside. They were supposed to warn you when any vehicles were approaching, but when you came back up, it lost signal. You did this twice; You batted at the little screen, vexed. There were probably signal jammers over at the main compound that could still reach all the way out here. You thought about how Team A was doing— So inevitably, your thoughts drifted back to the damn Javelin guy.

"Jesus!" You snapped. You were grateful when you didn't break the small screen in half with your strength.

"Okay. What the fuck is wrong." Came Peacemaker's voice from across the room. You stood there without turning around. You took a breath, tossed the tablet onto the bag at your feet.

"Nothing is wrong, Smith. Fuck off." You said. You reached up and unclipped your vest. Beneath it, you felt the cool air of the shelter hit your jumpsuit. You tossed the vest on the floor, then turned around. "When are they supposed to get here?"

He quirked a brow, as if proving his point. Since when didn't you remember the mission details? Rather than give him the satisfaction of thinking you were slipping you waved your own question away.

"God, never mind."

He scoffed. You watched him remove his helmet and gloves, setting them down carefully next to his own pack. He'd made his own area across the room from yours, another tablet showing him a view of the road propped up against the wall. Smith took a seat on the floor; The two of you were going to have to play the waiting game now.

In silence. The thought made you pinch the bridge of your nose right above where your mask stopped.

"You know, I've been at Belle Reve for four years now." You finally relented. You leaned back against your wall, folding your arms over your chest.

"Yeah? So?" Smith retorted. You rolled your eyes.

"So," God— You were really confiding in Christopher Smith. That's what it was coming down to. "I haven't had sex in four years. It's... not a big deal— Nothing's wrong. That's just what I was annoyed about earlier, you know? Consider me over it."

"That why you were ogling the Javelin in the copter today?"

Shit. Shit!

You dropped your arms. "You piece of garbage. You saw that?"

"I'm garbage? You're the one sexually harassing our fellow teammates with your eyes."

"I was not sexually— Nope. I'm done. You're ridiculous." You said. You reached down and went back to your tablet, busying yourself with it idly.

Peacemaker did the same. From the corner of your eye, you just knew he was doing it smugly.

"You know," He said after a few minutes, "If that's all you're bitching about, we can just get it over with."

"Excuse me?"

"You and me. Target's not coming in for another six hours, by the way. You don't need that much time do you, 'four-years-dry'?"

You stared at him from across the room. When you didn't reply, Peacemaker set his screen down so damn casually you consider just shooting yourself in the head.

"You're off your game. I'm not going to let you compromise our objective."

You threw your hands up. "There it is. You're like a broken record."

"What? Am I fucking wrong?"

"No, you're fucking crazy."

"Get over here." Smith instructed in a low voice.

The words shot up your spine, sending a very mixed signal to your brain. Directly across from you, Peacemaker was pinning you with an expectant look— One that was clearly a challenge. It pissed you off.

It was the look he used when he said you couldn't rip a guy's spine right out of his back— It dared you. And when you did succeed, you would shoot him an equally smug look in return. Your back and forths were always crass, always a test of who would back down.

You weren't normally so brutal when you worked alone, but something about Peacemaker brought it out of you. Whenever you were paired together, it was like your powers weren't something you had to hold back. They were something he was always prodding you to embrace. The jabs, the snark— It made you want to punch him in the face.

Standing up, you crossed the room. Smith didn't move as you stepped over his legs, as you leaned down to straddle his waiting lap. He simply watched you shift around until you're comfortably seated, your hands resting on his shoulders. He moved to place his own on your thighs but didn't do anything more.

"Well?" You said.

He shrugged, "Your call."

"What am I gonna do? Dry hump you?"

"Hey, if that's what it takes."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Fuck."

Finally, you reached up, unclipping the back of your mask.

"Whoa, wait—" He started, finally reacting to this ridiculous situation, but you already had it off, in your hand.

"I—" He stared at you. You shifted, feeling nervous as you stared back. It occurred to you that you'd never seen him shocked before.

He blinked. "I've never seen your whole face before."

That wasn't true— was it? You tried to think. "What about in Cuba? We camped out for like three days. I had to take it off to eat at least."

"I didn't look."

"You didn't look."

"I don't fucking know! You wear that fucking thing everywhere. When you took it off to eat I assumed you didn't want me looking."

"Wow. How courteous."

"Fuck you."

"Well, isn't that what we're doing here?" You said, putting your hands on your hips stubbornly. Smith's were still resting on your splayed thighs.

"I can't wear this when we— How am I supposed to...?"

He snorted softly, "Don't tell me you're a romantic, [L/n]."

Nothing about this seemed romantic. Least of all with him. Still, if you were going to take the opportunity, you were going to do it your way. You looked him over.

He had a few tufts sticking out from wearing his damn helmet earlier. You reached up and brushed some of it back into place at his temple first. Smith blinked up at you, his brows pinching together.

"This okay?" You heard yourself asking him. He eventually nodded once, watching you as you placed your palm on the side of his face. Finally, you leaned down and caught his lips with yours in a long kiss. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to know his reaction.

But you felt him return it. Slowly at first— Then he was kissing you back. You moaned somewhere in the back of your throat as he ran his large hands up and down your legs, his fingers folding to grip your ass tightly. You were already reacting, already so touched starved. His lips parted, and you felt him swipe his tongue across your bottom lip, over the front of your teeth. You opened for him, your tongue darting out to meet his hungrily.

You tugged at the front of his uniform. Without a word he reached down to pull it up over his head, the fabric dropping off somewhere beside you. You glanced down at his bare chest. You ran your hands over it, dragged your nails down his pecs experimentally. When you looked back up he was still watching you.

Your mouths crashed to meet again, this time with a fervor that threatened to split your bottom lip with every bruising kiss. You felt his hands on you again, pressing into your sides, your waist. He didn't move to take off your clothes, so you drew your hands to your own chest, pulled the zipper of your suit all the way down to your stomach.

He took the invitation, and you gasped when he roughly reaches in and cups a hand around your breast; He kneaded it, brushing his thumb over your nipple. His other hand worked at your shoulder, yanking the rest of your suit off of you. You reached back and tugged the sleeves off, finally exposing your upper body.

You felt the clasp at your back come undone, and Smith was tearing your bra off next. A muscular arm came around to scoop you up by the waist, bringing your chest closer to him. He leaned down, took one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Smith—" He bit you roughly, and it sent a shock of electricity up you. He palmed your other breast again, tweaked at your nipple until your back was arching into his touch. You squeezed your thighs around him.

Then he was back in your face again, bruising a kiss against your lips as you took a breath. Your eyes flew open when you felt the press of his fingers to your mouth. You shot a look at him, but didn't object when he pushed his index and middle fingers past your lips. You sucked them hungrily, your eyes fluttering shut again.

"Fuck," Peacemaker murmured, feeling your tongue swirl around the digits. You slurped sloppily until they were soaked, until he was pulling them back out with a light pop. He brought his hand down to the base of your suit, where the zipper stopped just above your pelvis. A pair of black panties peaked out from the V shape there, the same shade and material as your bra. You gasped when Smith finally pushed down past the layer of cotton, gripped his bare shoulders when you felt his wet fingers dip right into your cunt.

"Fuck," He said again, because you didn't need any help down there. "You're so fucking wet."

You expected to feel humiliation— To hear a joke about how it really had been while. But all you felt were his warm, thick fingers; He ran them up and down your slit, pressed them in small circles around the peak of you a few times. You cursed, your head falling back. Smith leaned up to kiss your throat, teeth dragging across the base of your collarbone. He bit you some more, daring to take your meta-human skin between his teeth. You cried out, your arm reaching to wrap around his head in pleasure.

Smith slid his fingers up into your pussy. He crooked them, scissoring them inside you. Your hips bucked, unable to resist meeting his short thrusts. You felt him grin against your neck. "Damn, baby."

"Shut up." You whispered, letting your hips rolling down to fuck yourself on his fingers some more. When he slipped in a third you moan loudly.

"Fuck! Fuck me." You demanded, yanking the short hair at the back of his head. A groan left Smith's lips, his head jerking back. Quickly, he removed his hand from your suit, pulling the rest of your clothes further down your waist. You lifted yourself off him, but Smith didn't wait. He picked you up and lifted you both off the floor. You grabbed at him as he laid you down on your back, his body between your legs. Then he was ripping off the last of your suit, tearing your boots off.

"Watch it," You snapped— If he fucking ripped anything you—

"Oh please." He huffed, and your thoughts stopped in their tracks as you watched him lean back on his knees above you, undoing his white pants. His cock sprang free from a pair of just as white underwear, his arousal already thick and ready. You stopped yourself from expressing how the sight of him made you even wetter.

He took a moment to drink in your face, a hint of that smug smirk forming. You growled, pulling him down by the neck again before he ruined the moment with speaking. Smith caught your lips again, his hand running down your naked body. He gripped one of your legs and nudges them apart, planting his knees between you.

Despite his earlier preparation, it was nothing compared to the feeling of his cock pushing inside you. You groaned as he entered you, your walls stretching around his length. Your back arched as you took him in, eyes rolling a little into the back of your head.

"Fuck— Chris—" You shuttered. His hands squeezed your thighs at the sound of his name leaving you. You heard his breath shake, his hips remaining utterly still as you got used to the size of him. Opening your eyes, you looked up to see him waiting for you; You nodded once, another moaning already escaping in anticipation.

It was like a brick wall knocking into you. Smith didn't hold back as he began fucking you— Knew you could take it— what with your powers and all. The idea seemed to drive him, and he began hammering into you, his hands moving to bracket your hips so he could fuck you better. Faster. Your legs wrapped around his waist.

Fuck— You couldn't think. You arched up off of the floor as you rolled your hips to meet Smith's. It felt like he could keep up this pace forever the way he wasn't stopping. Your breathing turned to panting, a high whine escaping you when he shifts just right— he picked you up again. You arched up into his arms, holding yourself up from around his neck as he fucked up into your soaking cunt. You bounced on his cock, a sheen of sweat blooming across your skin.

When you opened your eyes, Smith was still watching you intently— witnessing every little expression on your face while he fucked you. You could hardly discern what he was thinking. All you could focus on was him ramming you, the feeling of his cock hitting and stretching you out.

“Choke me.” He said, and you have just enough wherewithal to oblige. You wrapped your hand around his throat, pressing firmly on either side. You felt the tightness of his skin shifting under your touch. His pulse beat a fast rhythm in time with his rough thrusts. The strength of your grip was a little vice tipping Smith over the edge.

The look on his face, his eyes closed as he tried to control his breathing sends a jolt up you. You used your other hand to slip two fingers down between your folds. They found your clit, making quick work of bringing you to close to climaxing. You shuttered as you felt the tight coil of it building. Finally, with a cry you were coming, squeezing your legs around him as your hips rolling through every wave of it. Smith groaned, picking up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm until your walls were fluttering from the unrelenting stimulation.

“Going to—“ He warned, and you squeezed the hand around his throat harder, making his eyes roll up. You whimpered as you feel the hot spurt of him fill you, his hips finally locking as he pumped you with his cum.

You both took a moment to catch your breath, your hand releasing from Smith’s neck so he could take in a long gasp. His skin was reddened along his throat and chest. You saw the beginnings of your handprint bruising around his Adam's apple, your fingers a mark on his skin. You hung onto him like that, your arms back around his shoulders for balance.

“Fuck.” You finally said. Out of habit, you checked your watch to assess where you were on the mission. He took your chin in his hand, drawing your eyes back up to him. You saw that his hair had fallen back into his eyes, his face glistening with sweat.

“I’m not done with you.” He said. It sent a shiver through you. You felt your walls flutter again, some of his cum leaking out with his half-hard cock still firm inside you. You gasped as he pulled you off of him, guiding you down until you were turning around on all fours on the floor. You glanced over your shoulder, already craving the feeling of him filling you up with his cock again.

And fuck it, you two do take the whole six hours.

#peacemaker #peacemaker x reader #peacemaker x you #Christopher smith #dceu smut #dceu fanfiction #I don't know what happened; I had ideas for some dialogue between peacekeeper and reader and it turned into thiS #peacemaker smut #smut #mywords*