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mjolnirswriststrap · 24 days

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Just Another Notch

Masterlist Part 2/??

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size F!Reader

Summary: If Bucky thinks his charms will work on you, then you’re gonna put up one hell of a fight to prove him wrong.

Word Count: 1,711

Warnings: None, but will contain explicit content 18+, in future chapters, read at your own discretion.

Your alarm didn’t wake you, it was a loud knocking at your door. You jump up, tapping your phone screen to see that it was only 6am. Now you’re gonna be groggy all morning, your alarm was set for 6:45. You trudge to your door, ready to rip down whoever it was that woke you up. When you open the door you see Bucky with bright eyes, two coffees in hand. You quickly read the label and see that it’s your favorite cafe in Brooklyn. How did he get coffee from there this early?

“Good morning.” He chirps out, reaching one of the paper cups forward. You cross your arms in front of you, refusing the coffee. “How can I help you?” You say curtly. You take in his attire, he was ready for training. You could almost laugh, him and Steve take their sponsorships too seriously, can’t be seen exercising in anything other than Under Armor.

“I still felt bad about last night and thought, maybe I could repay you by helping you get a head start today.” The smirk on his lips did nothing to ease your agitated mood. “I said we’re even, it’s fine.” You say, wondering if he was being genuine. It was far too early for all of this. You rub your sleep filled eyes, pushing your hair behind your ears. “Anything else?” You say, wanting to get some more sleep before the day of literal hell you were about to endure. Physically, you were the apex, but mentally and strategically, not so much.

You couldn’t wield a gun, you’d been studying a makeshift dictionary of all the military terms Steve and Bucky say during missions. You couldn’t take directions. Besides overpowering the strongest guy in Kansas during a championship, you’d never learned how to combat fight. You have no clue where to hit someone or how hard so you don’t do fatal damage. You were written up on your first mission.

Your adrenaline was pumping and you thought the gunman was bigger than what he was, causing you to dent his chest in, instantly killing him. The punch was meant to lay him out, not kill him. You’d been reminded time and time again during initial training that the goal was to subdue, shield rehabilitates these criminals.

So now training was mainly a mental game for you. Sizing people up, you were no use against magicians or witches but physically, you worked hard to discern people’s capabilities. You’d never trained with Bucky or Steve before. You’d never fought against a super soldier, you couldn’t even imagine their strength. Therefore, you’d never opted to train with them.

“No, I’m sorry for waking you.” He says, his eyes tell a completely different story. But you hear some sincerity in his voice. Maybe you were being too harsh to him. He really hadn’t done anything wrong, yet. You were the one who assumed he was drunk, you were the one who enjoyed him innocently helping you clean his mess. If you put aside all your wild ideas, Bucky had actually been very nice to you.

While no one had made any progress in talking to you or really even introducing themselves, Bucky was willing to sit with you and enjoy a bowl of cereal, alone. No other outside force willing him to be there. He’d apologized after spilling milk on you, helped clean it. He wasn’t even looking, and you were speed walking behind him, what if it truly was just an accident. Here you were being rude to the only person who’s shown you kindness.

You wanted to hit yourself. Mentally you were painting your back porch red. Guilt was slowly filling you as you watch him drop his head, nodding as if he’s finally realizing the situation, you wanted him to leave. But not anymore, “Let me get dressed, 5 minutes!” You wait for him to look up at you before you close the door in his face, you could see his smile return, but this time it looked triumphant and genuine.

You want to play this game with him, you knew that much. So why not make a big move and wear your new sports bra set with matching spandex shorts. You’d never worn just a sports bra, and always wore leggings. Your best friend convinced you that you looked good in it, so Nike gladly took your money. This would surely prove your suspicion, were his intentions innocent?

You looked in the mirror, pushing and pulling at your breast in the tight spandex. Your cleavage had to be perfect for this to work. You rolled down the waistband of the shorts, letting it show off your curves. You run to the bathroom to do your morning routine. Walking out of your door in less than the 5 minutes you estimated. You had no idea why you had such a pep in your step. As if you were rushing back to him.

“Thanks.” You say taking the coffee from his hands. He stands there frozen as you turn for the elevator, he watches your ponytail sway across your shoulders, then he lets his eyes travel down, to see your back dimples on display. This one he would fight for, his improvised plan didn’t work last night, he’ll admit his ego was hurt a little by his advances not working. So he gave you another chance with coffee this morning.

It almost didn’t work, he was showing real sadness when you rejected him again, but out of self pity, not because you were being rude. But it worked, and you folded. Judging by the way you’re dressed, he knew you were playing along with him. He would win in the end, he always does. Besides, you’d be an adversary opponent and the best prize.

You wish you could’ve told him black coffee wasn’t really your style, but you had too much pride, sipping it empty on the way down to the training floor. Bucky would probably go left to the gym, and you’ll go right, to the simulation room. It was handy for someone like you. Training with real people was a liability, so holograms it was. “See you later.” You nod to him.

“Where you going? I thought we were training together.” He sounds disappointed. “Oh you meant like the two of us? I thought it was a wake up call, not an invite.” You scratch the back of your neck, kind of embarrassed. “I figured you could use the change of scenery.” He laughs.

You follow him into the gym, a place you’d only been once, during the orientation tour. It was huge, needing the capacity to handle super hero’s being thrown around. Bucky walks over to a bench, setting down his coffee cup and shedding his windbreaker jacket. You toss your empty cup in the trash can beside the door, slowly walking up to him. “So what did you have in mind?” You ask, nervous as to what exactly you had gotten yourself into.

“First some basic warm up drills, then I figured I could help you with that strength depth perception.” He grabs two jump ropes from the wall and tosses one your way. “Fury was worried about you at the last meeting.” You roll your eyes, of course he was.

“I didn’t know you discussed me at meetings.” You say, starting to jump rope. He joins you a second later, going miles faster than you. “We discuss everything, especially things that could be a liability.”. He wasn’t wrong, it rubbed you wrong that you couldn’t defend yourself at these meetings. But you understood why they did it, you killed a man.

“Right.” You huff out, stopping and dropping the jump rope, you had no endurance. Bucky continues for another minute, the rope turning into a blur as it whizzed around him. You ran the track around the perimeter of the gym, till you legs felt like jelly. Again, Bucky kept going, literally running laps around you.

When he came to a jog in place in front of you, you took in the fact that no sweat had formed on his brow, meanwhile you left a puddle in the floor when you stood up. “Okay, let’s start with defense.” He brings his fist to face level and you match his stance. “We both know you have offense covered. But what about protecting yourself. Other people are strong too.” He made a good point.

You had beginners luck, dodging the first punch Bucky threw at your stomach.

The second, not so much. You suck in a breath when his metal fist makes contact with your rib. “You’re supposed to block!” He sounds upset, like was the one who just got hurt. “Yeah I got that.” You wheeze out, dropping to your knees, clutching your stomach.

Just as you’ve almost composed yourself the door to the gym swings open. “Are you ready for complete destruction, son?” It’s Steve walking in, but his face immediately drops when he sees you. “Excuse me.” He’s obviously embarrassed. You just look at Bucky and try to hold in a laugh. “Seriously?” You whisper, his cheeks are red but he nods.

“I’ll take that as my cue.” You say, waddling over to the vending machine in the corner. The blue on the Aquafina label reflected in your eye. You’re gonna die if you don’t get a drink. You tap your Apple Watch to the card reader, typing in A5, as you watch your water bottle be mechanically maneuvered around through a glass window you hear whispering. “She needs a snack already?”

You don’t know who said it, just that someone did, you didn’t turn around. Preferring to pretend it didn’t happen, you grab the water from the machine, drinking the whole thing in a couple chugs. You smash it between your hands, completely flattening it to the width of paper. It was loud, the cracking of the plastic, it silenced their hushed words. As you toss it into the trash can beside the door, you turn around and address both men.

“Thirst and hunger are two different things, wouldn’t you say?” And you leave, pushing past Natasha in the hallway as you make your way to the simulation room.

Taglist: @cjand10 @winterslove1917 @honestlywork @calwitch

#avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #avengers #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #fanfiction #fanfic #mcu #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky x reader

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thelastofhyde · 6 months

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prologue. rome.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. like all epic love stories, this one starts with a meet-(un)cute. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, sunshine!reader, tour-guide!joel, age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much ) <3 chapter warnings. i’m pretty sure there’s no warnings this chapter. word count. 845. hyde’s input. & so it begins! my goal is to try post a chapter every other friday, but it may be weekly if i write + edit on time. likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 next chapter - series masterlist

Under the buzz of a dying light, you assess the damage.

Tousled hair, smudged mascara, bags under your eyes. Chapped lips, wrinkled clothing, a missing earring. Nail indentations, dry hands, a bruise on your knee.

You'd call yourself a mess, had you not been travelling at full-speed in the air, trapped inside an overgrown Pringles can that grew wings, for the past who-knows-how-many hours.

With a snoring seat-neighbour, a kid kicking at the back of you and the embarrassing sting of tears in your eyes, you'd not known peace until the plane had landed on solid ground. And, even then, the nightmare had picked right back up where it had left off, shapeshifting into a mile long customs queue and the overwhelming dread of watching the conveyor belt spin round and round with not a single sign of your suitcase.

It took a whole hour and speaking to an airport staff member later for them to find your case, right down the other end of the arrivals hall, sitting amongst luggage from a destination you'd certainly not arrived from.

But none of that matters, not now. At least you tell yourself that as you splash some cold water on your face. Looking back in the mirror, you try out a smile. It doesn't look genuine, but it's been a little harder to do recently, and so you give yourself credit for managing to at least have it meet your eyes.

There's a series of disgruntled, irritated faces that greet you as you exit the bathroom. You walk past them, head down, trying to count the beat in your footsteps and feel the roll of your suitcase's wheels.

Finding the signs that point to the arrival gate, you keep a low profile, as if anyone would know you here. Why would anybody know you here? Still, the need to stay hidden, out of sight, it intensifies, even as you take in the welcoming sign above sliding doors.

Buongiorno, benvenuto in Italia!

An overwhelming wave of loneliness hits you as you take your first step past the sliding doors, the usual hustle and bustle of an arrival's lounge greeting you. Couples embracing in reunion, families excitedly catching up on all that they've missed, strangers meeting for the first time, men in suits holding up signs with names and-

A different kind of wave hits you, physically, and suddenly you're on all fours, the sound of your knees smacking harshly into the marble floor taunting you with yet another bruise that'll be making a cameo in every picture you’ll take.

The world continues to pass you by, even as you juggle turmoil and pain. It’s a feat you’re trying to grow used to, but, for now, all you can manage is to not feel your stomach knot. You straighten your back, hands off the floor and your weight resting back against your knees. Pull a deep breath in, ignoring the tremble in your lower lip. In a moment of pure desperation, you wonder what more awaits you on this holiday from hell.

An awful flight, a lost-luggage scare, several bruises and now a public humiliation. What’s next?

You’re plucked up from where you sit, strong hands taking a gentle grip of your forearm. A simple tug and you obey the stranger’s signal, shifting to stand up straight. Turning on your heel to face your rescuer, you’re met with the back of a head, dark locks adorning it as the man reaches back down to grasp at your suitcase’s handle.

The man’s face is revealed slowly, undeliberately, as he rises to level once more, steadying your case back onto its wheels. Handsome, you notice the etching of laugh lines around his eyes and the peppering of patchy, yet fitting, facial hair along his jaw. A pair of headphones, big and chunky and sporting a wire, rest on the back of his neck and the strap of a backpack rests over his right shoulder.

You notice you’re staring a little too late, when there’s already a frown line splitting the skin of his forehead. Clear your throat, take back control of your suitcase and your senses.

Raised with manners, you rather clumsily thrust out your hand for the man to shake. “Thank you for your help, I appreciate it. So much. I'm-"

"You're in the way."

There’s no time to respond, not properly, as the man side-steps you with a grunt, his shoulder catching yours as he passes by. He doesn’t stop to apologise, simply readjusting the sliding strap of his bag and continuing his stride out into the sea of awaiting people.

Involuntarily, frozen where you stand, your eyes follow him as he comes to a stop in front of a uniformed man, a printed sign in his hand.

Signore Miller.

As you scan the crowd for your own name, spotting a casually dressed older gentleman carrying it upon scribbled cardboard, you repeat that name, over and over.

Miller, Miller, Miller.

Whoever the rude man may be, you pray for all those who cross his path on his trip.

#joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader

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asterias-record-shop · 11 months

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oohhh maybe spencer reid for bingo with a sugar mommy with number 9 i feel like that’s fitting for him👀😳

-🦇

—𓆩[six months]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Sugar Baby! Spencer Reid x Sugar Mommy! Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.8K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Spencer truly didn’t know he was a sugar baby until Derek told him. At first, he just thought your love language was gift giving, but then Derek made an extremely good point, and that made him think. Was he just a sugar baby to you, or was it something more, like he wanted it to be?

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - cursing & foul language || Spencer is adorably oblivious || Morgan and Garcia are literally goals, i love them so much- || you have texture issues because I have texture issues || set during season 11 before Morgan leaves but I’m imagining Spence in his prison look because it’s fine as fuck || kind of dom spencer and sub reader || oral || cum eating || 69 || subspace || begging || slight degradation || lots of praise!! || creampie ||

“Ah, pretty boy’s got that smile on his face!” Derek grinned as he passed by Spencer’s desk, the younger male quickly turning off his phone and setting it face down on the desk. “Is it her?”

“It actually-”

“Her? Who’s her?!” Emily was running over, Garcia right on her heels.

“She’s-”

“Beautiful!” Garcia filled in, peaking over Spencer’s shoulder. “Oh my god, she is so pretty!”

“Who is?” JJ walked over, sliding her phone into her back pocket as Spencer blushed, looking away. “Oh my god, does Spencer Reid have a girlfriend?”

“Hell yeah he does,” Derek laughed, leaning back in his chair. “What did you say her name was again, pretty boy?”

“Her name is Y/N, we’re planning on having a movie marathon tonight. Her pick was the How to Train Your Dragon movies, so we’re going to go to her house and watch them. Did you Chris Sanders and Dean DeBlois weren’t the original directors? The-”

Garcia giggled. “Does she sit through your little fact rants too?”

Spencer smiled, nodding. “I think she likes them, actually. A few nights ago, we went out to eat and Monte Cristos and-”

“Monte Cristos?” Rossi walked down the stairs, groaning. “Their pasta is to die for from there. I haven’t had the chance to meet the owner quite yet, but I’ve heard she’s a very kind and beautiful young lady.”

“Oh, yeah, Y/N is amazing!” Spencer smiled widely, Rossi smiling widely.

“Well I’ll be damned, our boy is dating a millionaire!” Rossi is laughing, walking over as Derek sits up.

“What do you mean, a millionaire?”

“Guys, I have someone I want you to meet,” Hotch announces, clenching his hand out at them. “Now, please.”

“We’re getting back to your millionaire girlfriend in a minute, pretty boy.” JJ ruffled his hair making him basically pout, quickly sending you a text.

Spencer 11:43am

I need to go, the team and I have to meet someone. Can’t wait until tonight, I love you.

He slid his phone back into his pocket, humming as he stood and Garcia hooked arms with him. “Why did I not know you had a girlfriend, Spencer Reid?!”

“I mean, we’ve been together for a while, but we’ve just… kept it on the downlow.” He shrugged, fixing the sweater you had gotten him.

He knew how dangerous his job was, and with the amount you were in the media, it would be easy to make you a target. As much as he didn’t want to think about it, you were the perfect target, even though you were a high-level risk person to do anything to.

“Well, I want to meet her! Does she like coffee? We can go get coffee, or, or! We can go get drinks.” She’s grinning, wiggling her brows up at him making Emily laugh.

“Oh, come on, Spence! Why would you keep this from us?!” She’s smiling widely, clapping her hands. “How long have you guys been together?”

“One year, two months and twenty-seven days.”

“That long and you didn’t tell us?!” JJ basically yelled, covering her mouth. “Spencer!”

“You never asked!”

“Guys, this is Y/N L/N,” Hotch introduces you, gesturing toward where you stood in front of the main TV. “She has just made a… very generous donation to the BAU.”

There you stood, dressed fucking beautiful as always, wearing a black pencil skirt and a pretty mauve button down that you tucked into the pencil skirt. You were at the head of the table with no surprise, your heels giving you a few extra inches of height.

“I never knew that the BAU could receive donations…” Garcia spoke, letting go of Spencer as you smiled at her.

“You normally don’t,” you respond, giggling. “But I pulled some strings. I was able to give your jet some new upgrades, got all of your computers up to date with the best, all of your FBI equipment such as vests, guns that are suited to each of you, such as a new SIG-Sauer P226R - of course fitted with a Streamlight attachment - for SSA Morgan, two Glock 19s of course for SSAs Prentiss and Jareau, along with Glock 26s for backups, a Springfield Custom for SSA Rossi and of course, a Smith & Wesson revolver for Dr. Reid. I’m aware that Agent Garcia isn’t a gun girl, but,” you giggled as you bent down and grabbed a small box, walking over. “This job is dangerous and you should be protected.”

Garcia gasps, staring down at the box. “Oh I love gifts, and it’s a pink box, can I open the pink bedazzled box?”

“Yes, please open the pink bedazzled box.” You giggled, Spencer inhaling deeply as Garcia opened the box. “My friend owns a company that makes sure people stay safe while being pretty.”

“It’s a taser!” She gasped, grabbing the bejeweled protection device. “Oh my gosh, and it has diamonds- are they real diamonds?!”

“They’re actually pink amethyst, someone… persuaded me from getting real diamonds, as they said amethyst fit you more,” you answer, eyes flickering over to Spencer who blushed slightly. “And I have to agree.”

“Oh I like her.” She says making everyone laugh, Hotch’s eyes flickering between you and Spencer.

“I think we should leave Reid and Y/N alone for a few minutes,” Hotch spoke, his lips firmly pressed together to hide a smile as you grab the boxes and start handing them out. “Thank you, Y/N. I really do appreciate the gift.”

“It’s nothing, really,” you giggled, watching as they slowly started walking out and Spencer slowly stepped forward. “And this is for you, Dr. Reid.”

“I uhm… thank you, Y/N,” he whispers as Derek was the last to leave, closing the door with a quick wink at the younger man. “Thank you, really.”

“I thought you would need a new one,” you whisper, slowly opening the box and pulling his hand to the grip and smiling. “I got it engraved for you.”

He smiled when he saw the longitude and latitude lines of where you both first met, fingers slowly trailing over the wood. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered, slowly setting it down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “You’re beautiful. Did you… did you mean to not tell me you were coming?”

“It was a surprise,” you whisper back, smiling before your phone starts to ring. “Oh, I’m so sorry honey, I need to go. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Y-Yeah, that sounds good,” he whispered, slowly putting down the case and humming. “Can I uhm… hold your hands?”

You giggle. “There’s no reason to ask me that anymore, Spencer. We’ve been dating for over a year now, you don’t have to ask.”

“But I like to.” He responded, slipping his hands into yours and pressing a firm kiss to your lips. “Except when it’s like that… I love to kiss you, sweetheart, I love you.”

“I love it when you kiss me, my darling,” you whisper back, your hands pushing into his hair as you pull him down. “I love you.”

“I… I love you too.” He finally whispers back, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“You will,” you respond, giggling. “I have to go cut the ribbon at the new restaurant. We can go eat there tomorrow?”

“Sure, that sounds good.” He squeezed your hands again, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Spence. I love you.” You pressed another kiss to his cheek, squeezing his hand. “I’ll see you tonight! Text me when you’re done with work, I’ll pick you up.”

“Sounds good.” He smiled as you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and walked out, waving at everyone and saying a quick goodbye to the profilers who pretended they were doing something outside of the conference room. “So… you’ve met Y/N… what do you think?”

“About the fact you’re a sugar baby?” Derek grinned, crossing his arm as Penelope pressed the button on the side of the taser to turn it on, the tall man jumping. “Fuck, baby girl, you scared the shit out of me.”

“I didn’t know my chocolate thunder could get scared.” She giggled, getting it closer to his chest and pressing the button making Derek back up.

“Hey, that’s a weapon! Don’t play with those-” he yelped when she got closer, giggling. “Y/N never should’ve given you that!”

“I like it,” she says, smiling. “And her. We should go out for drinks.”

“Yeah, we should but uhm… Morgan, what do you mean by a uhm… ‘sugar baby’?”

“Oh my goodness, Spence has a sugar mommy! I want a sugar mommy, damn.” Emily mumbled, crossing her arms.

“What is that?”

“It’s basically when woman who is very financially well off gets a person who is most often younger and gives them expensive gifts or cash in return for companionship,” JJ explains, shrugging before everyone actually looked at Spencer, his head tucked low and his hair falling into his face as he stared down at the engraved revolver. “B-But uhm… maybe her love language is just gift giving, right guys?”

“Right!” Emily agreed, nodding. “Sh-She probably just… y’know, uhm… likes to give you gifts.”

Spencer wasn’t really paying attention to their attempts to salvage their words, his lips pursed. Was that all he was to you? A sugar baby? Were you just giving him this stuff in return for his companionship? You both had sex often, not that it was something Reid particularly gloated about, but it was definitely more than a regular couple, especially after you gave him a gift. You wouldn’t do that though, right?

All of the ‘I love you’s you both shared that weren’t able to be left unsaid after he said it first, the longing touches, the embraces after making love? What you both did wasn’t even sex, it was the literal form of how in love you both were. It wasn’t fake, right?

“Hey, Reid.” Derek stepped forward, waving a hand in front of his face. “It was just a joke, man. Don’t think too much about it, she seems really sweet, and super in love with you. Remember it’s just a joke, okay?”

Spencer nodded slightly, sending him a tight lipped smile toward him before raising his hand. “I uhm… is there anything else for me to do here? If not, I think I’m going to go home for the rest of the day.”

“N-No, I think we’ve got it, Spence,” JJ cleared her throat, inhaling deeply as Spencer nodded. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine, just want to go home. See you tomorrow.” He smiled, offering a wave as they watched him go down the stairs and walk out.

“I think we might’ve ruined something.”

That night, Spencer didn’t go to your house like you wanted him to for your How to Train your Dragon movie marathon. You both were going to watch it exactly in order, series included besides the ones that came to the future, but it was just not something he wanted to do right now.

He wrapped himself in the blanket you had gotten him, the fabric one that reminded him of your home, where you had texture issues and only had a few choice fabrics allowed in your home. Being buried under the mountains of blankets was nice and safe, the only thing on his mind was all of your gifts that he had on display that he loved, collectors editions of his favorite books and such.

Was that all he was to you? What Morgan called him - a sugar baby that returned gifts with pleasure?

His thoughts blurred, a soft groan leaving his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut – there were too many thoughts going through his head that he didn’t even hear the door open and close.

“Spence? Spencer, are you okay? Baby, what’s wrong?” Your hands pushed back his hair, a sharp inhale making your eyes meet his.

“Am I just a sugar baby to you?”

You paused, tilting your head. “You want to be my sugar baby?”

“What? No- what did you hear?” He asked, flinching as you pushed back the blanket and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his nose.

“That you want to be my sugar baby? Why would you want that, I give you gifts because I like to…” you pause, shaking your head. “Do you uhm… want more gifts? I can do that.”

“What? No, no! I just uhm… Morgan said that you were my ‘sugar mommy’.”

“Well, that’s how it started out, remember?” You say, smiling as you stroked back his hair. “That contract you signed at the beginning?”

He paused, tilting his head slightly, nodding. “Yes, but I thought that… it was because of how your lifestyle was-” he was mumbling, going through his mind whenever he read through it, gasping. “I signed a sugar mommy contract.”

“That had to be renewed every six months,” you whisper, hands rubbing his thighs. “How many times have you signed that same contract, darling?”

“Once.”

“So are you my sugar baby or my boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend.”

“Are you going to stay my boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

You smiled, stroking his face. “Did that make you uncomfortable? Thinking of yourself as a sugar baby?”

“What made me uncomfortable was the fact that we have sex a lot,” he mumbles, looking up to see your fall. “N-No, not like that, I love having sex with you, a lot, but it’s always after gifts and JJ said sugar babies give companionship in response to gifts so I-”

“Thought that I wanted sex in return for gifts?” You filled in, your hands continuing to rub his thighs making his stomach twist, sparks running up his spine. “I’m sorry I made you think that. Do you not want gifts anymore, I just-”

“No,” Spencer whispered, his cock already twitching as you stared up at him, eyes wide and looking so innocent - he just had to do something. “I want to have sex without giving gifts. Sex is my gift to you, would you like that?”

“N-Not if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“You think sex with you makes me uncomfortable?” He was already unzipping his pants, lifting himself up as he pushed off the blankets, his body way too hot now. “Sweetheart, I could never stop thinking about having sex with you.”

“Wh-What do you want me to do?” It was stupid, asking that whenever he was already pumping his cock in front of you, cum already dribbling from his tip down his shaft.

“You’ve always known how to use that pretty mouth, sweetheart, can you do it for me-?” He couldn’t even finish before you pulled his cock into your mouth, a loud groan falling from his mouth as your mouth enveloped his cock. One of your hands pumped his cock as the other cupped and squeezed his balls, your mouth bobbing on his shaft as you hollowed out your cheeks.

You could feel your eyes roll back as his cock pushed down the back of your throat, soft gags falling from your mouth as his hand held the back of your head, threading through your hair to guide you up and down his cock. Your mouth was hot and wet, covering his cock in your saliva as you continued to gag on his length, attempting to relax your throat as he pushed you down so your nose was against his pelvis.

His cock was always kept neat and groomed, a small bush of hair pressed against the tip of your nose, your tongue attempting to swirl around his length as you choked slightly, inhaling through your nose. He smelt like peppermint and sage, a special body wash that was expensive that was suited for his sensitive skin, the smell something you often connected to him.

You gasped as he pulled you off his cock, watching his length bob before he pushed back your hair, his hand settling on your cheek as his thumb pulled down your swollen, shiny lips. “Keep going.”

It wasn’t something up for discussion, nodding as you grabbed the rubber band around your wrist, pulling your hair back into a ponytail until he held your chin. “Come up here.”

You looked at him confused, starting to stand before he lifted you up, gasping as he walked with you toward his room, easily opening the door and setting you on the bed. He watched you bounce on his mattress as he stripped himself, your hands immediately moving to take off your own clothes before he pushed you onto your back, holding your hips as his mouth pressed firm kisses to your lips, his mouth hot as his tongue pushed into your mouth.

Your hands push back his hair, the slight stubble on his face rubbing against your own as he moves to pull you closer. It made your mind blur in confusion when he pulled away, eyes dark as he scanned your face, a grin finding its way to his lips. “Get on top of me.”

It made you confused before he laid onto his back, softly patting his mouth. “Right on here, sweetheart.”

You gulp, slowly crawling over his face before he hummed.

“Other way.”

“Y-Yes,” you whisper, slowly turning around on top of him as he bucked his hips up so his cock tapped against your mouth. “Fuck, Spence.”

“Language,” he gives your cunt a soft slap, a squelch making your eyes roll back as you slowly pull his cock into your mouth, the slight arch making it slide perfectly down your throat. His cock was longer than it was thick, but it still made you choke as you bobbed up and down on his cock, pushing out your tongue as you swirl it around his tip. “Fuck yes, baby, fuck.”

You groan around his length as his lips start to press firmly against your cunt, his nimble fingers pushing into your soaked cunt easily. It makes you groan loudly, eyes rolling back as you purposely pull off of his cock enough to spit on his tip, his hips bucking as you relax your jaw and bob your head, watching the globs of spit run down his shaft.

His fingers were already knuckle deep into you, pushing and pulling as he scissored his fingers inside of you, your hips rolling into his mouth as his cock twitched in your mouth. His fingers were getting rougher, open mouth sucking and licking with a bit more force as his loud groans were muffled by your cunt against his mouth.

He was always talented with his mouth, his tongue trailing over your folds as he pushed another finger into you, rolling his fingers knuckle by knuckle as you suckle on his tip, pulling away to hear that loud pop as you pump his cock, watching as more cum dribbles from his tip. It makes you smile, your tongue flattening against his tip as you continue to pump his cock, watching it twitch in your hand as you licked up his cum.

He smiled against your cunt, his hips bucking as you held back loud moans, broken whines leaving your lips as you flatten your tongue along his shaft from the base to the tip before opening your mouth wide when his tip flushed red and he let out a loud groan against your cunt. The vibrations make your hips rut against his face, his fingers pushing into a new place inside of you that makes your eyes roll back and your stomach tighten, mind blurring as you pull his cock into your mouth.

It didn’t take him very long to follow in cumming after you, hips bucking into your mouth and filling your mouth with cum as you sucked his tip as though to get every last drop out. Your mind was still slightly hazy as you languidly hump against his face, continuing to lick his cock as though it was a melting popsicle before he blew softly into your stretched cunt, a whine leaving your mouth as he lifted you up and laid you back.

“Sp-Spence, please, please I need you.”

“Need me? Does your slutty little hole need my cock?” He raised a brow as you whimpered, squirming underneath him.

“N-No, don’t be mean please, I need you.” You whisper, your hands holding his shoulders as he smiles, immediately registering the input of your subspace. “Please? Please, Spence?”

“You need me, baby? Is your mind all floaty and hazy, darling?” He teased you, his hand holding the shaft of his cock as he slid his head up and down your slit.

A loud whine fell from your lips, hips bucking. "No, no, don't do that! I'll be good, I promise!"

He laughs, shaking his head. “You’ll be good, baby? You’re always good, always good for me. You want me to fuck this slutty little hole and fill you with cum, don’t you?”

“N-No, not slutty, j-just please…” you mumbled, eyes rolling back as he pushed into you, watching his cock slowly disappearing inside of your cunt and feeling it inside of you, your walls clamping down on his shaft as he slowly pushed into you. Your eyes rolled back, stomach twisting and turning as he held your thighs, pulling your knees over his shoulder and leaning forward. “F-Fuck!”

It was a new angle, his balls slapping against your ass as he pulled your lips to his, one hand still on your knee while the other cupped your face. “Y-Yes darling, you’re doing so good, so so good.”

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop, you feel so good inside of me.” You whined, choking as he slammed into you, your mind blurring as your stomach tightens again, mouth opening wide as his fingers delicately trail your sensitive tummy that clenched as soon as they graze your skin. “C-Cumming, cumming!”

“Cum baby, cum.”

Your eyes roll back, a rough thrust making your eyes squeeze shut just as they rolled back, a broken moan leaving your mouth as he panted above you. “W-We’re not done, darling, not done yet.”

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡

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Regular taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪 𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪 𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪 𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪 𓆩[@c78r]𓆪 𓆩[@dizscreams]𓆪 𓆩[@asrt5]𓆪 𓆩[@xoxomoonlightbabe]𓆪 𓆩[@wenvierismycomfort]𓆪 𓆩[@copypastedaphne]𓆪 𓆩[@f-aggotry]𓆪

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persephonewritessometimes · 1 year

Text

Tiebreaker - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: Forced to sit across from your crush, I mean, your boss, you teach him how to play a solo card game. When you ask to play a two-person card game, who will come out on top?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner (Hotch) x Reader

Word Count: 1754

Read on Wattpad here!

Warnings: fluffy fluff fluff; sassy hotch and sassy reader

Key: y/n = your name

“Mind if I take this seat?” I ask, motioning at the seat across from my boss.

“Go right ahead,” Hotch says, barely glancing up from his paperwork. I quickly take the seat in front of him, furious at the rest of the team for realizing my little crush and taking up as many seats as they could so I would be forced to sit with him. I glance towards Emily and see her wink at me before whispering something to JJ. I glare at her, feeling my cheeks heat up. Rossi and Derek have somehow managed to commandeer two seats for each of them, and Reid is sprawled out asleep on three other seats. Leaving me with the two seats in front of Hotch.

I sit quietly for a few minutes, trying to decide if I want to read or get out a deck of cards in my go bag. I quietly pull out the deck of cards after deciding that playing cards would distract me from Hotch sitting right in front of me.

I shuffle the deck a few times as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw Hotch’s attention to me. I lay out four cards, removing a six of diamonds, as there was a Queen of Diamonds pulled. With no further moves to make, I deal out four more cards, three on top of the previous cards and one in the empty space. I continue this until I have no more moves to make, and with 9 cards still left, I have lost the game. I huff, gathering the cards up and moving to shuffle them again.

“What game are you playing?” Hotch asks, his voice drawing me out of my concentrated state.

“Oh, um, Ace’s Up!”

“How do you play?” Hotch asks, setting his paperwork aside. My cheeks warm at having his attention on me, and I nervously shuffle the cards.

“It’s actually pretty simple. You deal out four cards like this,” I say, dealing the cards. “Then if you have two cards of the same suit, like the two hearts I have here, you get read of the lowest one.” I remove the three of hearts. “Then, if I have no more moves, I deal four more cards and keep going until the game is finished. Aces are the highest cards, and your goal is to only have four aces at the end of the game.”

“Seems simple enough. Can I try?” I raise your eyebrows before saying,

“Your funeral – the first time I played it took me two hours to win one game.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Hotch says as I hand over your deck to him. I shrug and watch his hands shuffle the cards, having to look away quickly after a good fifteen seconds having realized with embarrassment that I was full-on staring at his hands. I clear my throat and ask,

“Are you ever gonna deal the cards or just keep shuffling until your hands fall off?”

“Point taken,” Hotch says, shooting you a half smile, and I swear I feel my heart skip a beat. He deals the cards and starts the game. He’s so concentrated, thinking over each move thoroughly before taking cards off the stacks. After a few minutes, he says,

“Okay, this is actually harder than I thought it would be. Have you ever won this game before?”

“A lot. But I’ve been playing it for years now. It’s not that hard to win if you play it right.” I say smirking.

“You wound me.” He says, putting his hand over his heart. “The real question is, is her bark worse than her bite?”

“Do you want to find out?” I ask, staring him down. Color rises to his cheeks, and he clears his throat averting his gaze.

“You know, we could ask Reid what the probability of winning this game is.” He says with a slight smile on his face.

I watch him lose round after round, and by the fifth round, I chuckle when he furiously stacks up the cards to play again.

“I’m glad to see you find me losing amusing.”

“It’s just, you’re getting so pissed off and it’s kind of funny,” I say, a small smile on your face. I was finding it very entertaining to watch the normally very composed man slowly lose said composure through a simple card game.

“I’m going to win. And then I’m going to rub it into your face.”

“Slow down old man, threatening a subordinate? You know I could report you for that.”

“First of all, don’t call me old man, and second, I think Strauss would understand.” I grant him a genuine laugh at that remark, and he smiles at me/

It takes him a good forty minutes, but he does when his first round. He rubs it in when he does win, and I let him gloat for a good thirty seconds before asking,

“Do you want to play War? It’s a two-person game.”

“I’ve played it before. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anyone win that game.”

“Well, Mister “I just won Ace’s Up”, would you like to see if you can win this game?”

“Fine, fine.” He says with a chuckle, and shuffles the cards, dealing them out. The game starts off slow, with both of us having half the deck. I won the first war, and Hotch glowered in his seat.

“Look, it’s not my fault that I pulled an ace,” I say.

“I think you’re cheating; you’ve rigged the deck or something.” He mutters.

“Listen, if I was cheating, you would know it. Subtlety is not my strong suit.”

The game continues, and I’m down to ten cards when Morgan comes over.

“It looks like you’re going to lose, Y/N,” Morgan said with a chuckle.

“Oh, Morgan, that reminds me I have something for you.” Morgan and Hotch exchange a confused look as you dig around in your bag, before pulling out your hand and flashing a middle finger at Morgan. He just laughs and says,

“Hey guys, we’ve got a sore loser over here!” Derek hollers, the rest of the plane laughing. Hotch is laughing too.

“Come on, Y/N. Just accept defeat.” Hotch says a smile on his face.

“Never. I’ll only call it a tie.”

“Seriously? I have most of the cards and you want to call a tie?” I glare at him, now in a sour mood because I’m very close to losing. He studies your face, then concedes, “Fine, we’ll call it a tie. But I expect a rematch the next time we fly.”

He sticks out his hand and I shake it, telling him that he has a deal, and promising that I’ll definitely win next time.

Every game of war we play ends in a tie. Sometimes I’m about to win, sometimes he’s about to win. Still, they always end in a tie. On our way home from a grueling case in Montana, Hotch is thinking very hard and says,

“I have an idea.”

“What?”

“What if we made this game interesting?” I perk up at that.

“What do you mean?”

“If I win, I can ask you for one thing, and if you win, you can ask me for one thing.”

“That’s very vague.” I pause. “But I’m intrigued, so I’ll take you up on your offer.”

I deal the cards this time, making sure to shuffle them really well. It feels like there’s something actually at stake here, and I really want to win. I don’t know what I would ask him for, but it would be nice to have something to hold over his head.

The game starts off slow, like any other game, but it quickly turns in his favor. I’m losing. Badly. Everyone is invested now. Reid is in the chair next to me, but not saying anything. Emily and JJ are pretending to read but they haven’t flipped a page in the last fifteen minutes.

“Okay, what are you going to ask me for?”

“Oh, so now you think I’m going to win! Where’s my little tiebreaker, hmm?”

“Pardon my language, but I’m going to fucking win.”

“Oh, you and your six cards are going to win? We’ll see about that.” He smirks.

We lay our next cards down. I play a Six, he plays a Queen. I’m down to five cards.

A three and a five. He wins again. Four cards now.

A queen, and an ace. Fuck. He wins again. I have three cards and no aces left.

“The chances of you coming back from this are very slim, Y/N, they’re-“

“Reid, please shut up I don’t want to hear the odds.” You say behind gritted teeth.

A nine and queen. Two cards left.

“Are you sure you don’t want to call it a tie?” I ask, desperately.

“Nope. Not a chance.” Hotch says. We play our next cards.

A two and a king.

“Oh, come on, that’s not fucking fair!” Hotch just smiles. I have one card.

A three and a four. He wins the game.

I cross my arms in frustration, brooding, pissed that I lost the game. I almost forgot about the bet.

“What are you going to ask me for?” I ask.

“A date.” He says simply. My brain short circuits.

“I- uh, huh, what, wait a minute, are you?”

“Asking you on a date? Yes, I thought that was obvious.” The air is so still in the cabin, everyone holding their breath. He’s looking at me, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.” I hear everyone let out a sigh of relief and Emily cheers.

“Fucking finally! I’m so tired of watching you two eye-fuck each other over a card game.” Emily says.

“EMILY!” We both shout at the same time. I give him a small smile, and ask,

“Has this been your plan all along? Devise some way to ask me out on a date?”

“Well, I would have done it normally but you’re kind of oblivious. I notice you staring at me, but you don’t seem to notice me staring at you.”

“You stare at me?”

“All the time.”

“Three different deputies have asked if you guys are together.” Rossi pipes up from a couple of chairs away.

“And no one told me?” I ask incredulously.

“Y/N, he’s right, you’re kind of oblivious,” JJ says kindly. “But we still love you.”

“Yeah, especially Hotch!” Derek says, Hotch shoots him a look. “Sorry, sorry, too soon.”

#aaron hotchner #hotch fanfiction #hotchner #hotch x y/n #hotch x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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igglemouse · 3 months

Text

The sun cast its golden hue over my new town of Oasis Springs as it brought in the hopes of a new day. The simoleons from yesterday a reminder of my success and also what might be possible for me here.

But while I considered my last food sale a financial success it was certainly a failure socially. My mystery guy did not stop by which had me wondering if perhaps I had failed my first impression. Maybe that's not it? Perhaps the waffles left a lingering ill taste on his lips and he's decided my little offerings are just not enough?

Or...maybe he's taken?

I chomp down on my waffle with that thought bouncing through my head. That was far more likely, wasn't it? He was very handsome and I could tell he was brimming with confidence, the odds of a man like that being single? Very very low.

Later in the day, after a shower and some cleaning, my phone rings and it is someone I've met through my food stand but it's not the person I hope. It's Daniella, the girl I met yesterday who came by a little too late for a plate.

After introductions she tells me that she wishes to be my guide for the city. Hinting and teasing at private parties that she can drag me into and perhaps I'm far too eager to tell her I'm down for it because the mysterious tone she takes on after that kind of worries me.

Honestly, I was just being nice. A girl needs friends, doesn't she?

I head outside and set up. Calling out the usual. Waffles, tortillas, brownies, three dishes that were becoming an early staple of mines.

If only the air wasn't different. Less hurried, less eager, and less people. Perhaps it was too dry and just a little too hot but the result? Ninety-six simoleons.

The weight of my daily gains was both light and heavy. I didn't quite reach my goal but I was thankful for every simoleon made. It was a reminder that success would not be achieved in a straight line and that there would be ups and downs along the way.

The sizzle of my pan brings me solace and a promise of a future to come. The simoleons will be there. I'll work hard, I'll learn a new recipe every day, I'll get better and better to where my skills cannot be declined.

I am a student of flavor and my latest design, simple sliders, are sure to help me have my best day. After all, they are small, easy to plate, and even easier to eat. Perfect dish for a food stall, someone can drop their simoleons off on the table and take one to go. If only they are good.

I take a bite, letting the flavors dance around in my mouth. When it comes to any sandwich it's about creating the perfect mix of meat, bread, veggies, and condiments and I think I've hit the spot. It's a small confirmation of my work but not the final one. That test will come with my customers, of course.

The day stretched on with the promise of little which was expected. I figured I would sit down and find something to eat. Maybe even go to a bookstore and pick up recipe books? Something like that, have a quiet night in and prepare for tomorrow.

The ping of my phone presented another idea. The gym. With the curious man whose been lingering on my mind. When he asks I tell him maybe but we all know my curiosity and quite frankly my desire to see him again will not allow me to decline this invitation.

I'm just surprised he was able to find my number?

When I arrived at the gym I wondered how I had ever missed it. It stood large and looming over the busy street, the other businesses clearly benefitting from the crowd that it drew.

Once inside I met our mystery guy and he wasted little time leading me upstairs, claiming that a session would begin soon and he did not have time to waste.

The session? Yoga.

Fortunately, the class was small. Two others, including him, and he of course took a mat behind me. I laughed inwardly but a man will be a man I suppose? If he's going to admire the female form then I suppose I'd rather it be mines than the girl next to him at least.

Either way, the session starts and reluctantly and clumsily I follow the instructor. She starts with easier poses of course. Breathing exercises, she called them, which were more about relaxing and finding your mental center.

Eventually she would move on to more difficult ones. Stretching out legs and balancing on one foot. Nothing impossible for a beginner but I do think we both looked like fools trying to keep up.

We end on the flat of our backs, eyes closed, and letting our muscles find their natural states. Yoga is a lot harder than it looks but I admit it does feel very rewarding? Perhaps it is something I could get into? Especially if our mystery man is into it...

When I first step foot in this gym my first thought was how chilly it was inside. I almost wondered if I should have brought a coat! Now, I'm thankful for it, the cool air was far more welcome after our little workout and I was thankful that it kept my brow from glistening with any sweat as Pascal (that's his name by the way, so no longer a mystery guy to me) pulled me over for a conversation. A 'get to know each other' conversation, by the way, and thankfully in Selvadoradian so that saves him having to hear my terrible accent.

"So why this?" I ask. "Why yoga?"

"Orders of the captain," he says casually, as if I'm supposed to know what that means. Is he a sailor or... "He says it helps with the flexibility, prevents injuries, and helps with mental focus. All important on the field."

The field? I was still confused until I thought on it a moment longer. He's talking about a sport.

"I kick a ball for a living," he assists, that confident tone of his pulling me in closer.

So this is who I sat across from, Pascal Alcocer, a name that in itself seemed to carry a significance to it. At least to him. To me it was but another name. I think he liked that, he liked that I was ignorant of who he was. Perhaps it's why he's interested in me.

"You've never heard of me? Truly?" he seems sincerely confused. I just stare at him and shake my head. Revealing that I'm really no big fan of sports ball. Oh, don't get me wrong, fútbol as it is called back home is massive but it simply never pulled me in. It's just a bunch of people kicking a ball around in the end.

"I'm sorry," suddenly I feel ignorant. Here is this great athlete, presumably, setting out time to get to know me because he feels like I should already know him. "I just don't watch-"

"No! Please! Frida, is it?" I nod and bite down on my lip, my name seemed to slip so naturally from his lips. "It's refreshing, actually."

I am sure it is. If he's a big time athlete I can imagine he has women buzzing around him daily. Throwing themselves at him, begging for a moment of his attention and wanting a lot more. The more I think about it, the more I dislike it. Dating a man like this would be stressful, wouldn't it?

As I think about it he tells me more about himself. He's a young player with a lot of promise, a 'midfielder', he tells me. That word is filled with pride. I have no idea what it means but I can tell just by how he says it that its a special role on the team, perhaps like that of a sous chef? Either way, he says he plays for Oasis FC which again has little meaning to me beyond the fact that he plays for a professional team but he assures me he's not the big deal some make him out to be.

"I still have lots to prove. I don't quite have that big contract yet but everyone thinks it's a matter of time," he leans back as he says this, realizing that he's spent most of the time talking.

"Sounds like a lot of pressure," I say finally.

He gives me a stern nod and waves away that thought entirely. "I'd rather have the expectations to be great than be regarded as a failure...so, what about you?"

"Oh," where do I go from there? "I just opened up a stall and hope to see where it goes?" Watcher that sounds so lame in comparison. "I just enjoy cooking I guess and-"

"You are adorable, do you know that?"

Well that has me chewing on my lip again and has my face feeling a little warm.

"I-I like you too..."

I find the comfort of a bar soon after, too restless to head home and needing a drink to think on the night I've had with Pascal. First impression? I was impressed.

Sure, the man was so full of confidence that it was bordering on cockiness but I have a feeling that it takes pure arrogance to become a professional athlete.

It was also very clear that was into me. After all, he sought out my number and invited me to a gym and made sure he had a good look of me. Should that make me happy or should I worry that he's a teeny bit pervy?

I don't know. The good thing about a drink is that it allows me to not overthink any of what happened and look forward to seeing him again which, according to him, will be sometime tomorrow...

Episode List - Next

The wonderful public gym lot is by @streneesims

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 4 #sims legacy #my sims #generation 1 #soot #sims of our time #frida varela #pascal alcocer #daniella martin #tw: alchohol mention #tw: alcohol

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thebibliosphere · 2 years

Note

Do you have any thoughts about the 27 chapter method of writing or are there other ones you might recommend more? I’m extremely disorganized and indecisive when writing which is frustrating because I never actually end up making progress. An existing outline method to at least get all of my thoughts down and decide where the story will go (instead of 27 possibilities and nothing concrete) would be extremely helpful but I don’t want a very obvious cookie cutter type story if that makes sense

The 27-chapter method works well for some people, but I'm not a huge fan. It fucks with my ADHD too much because if I map something out and define it as having 27 chapters, then it's got to have 27 chapters, no more, no less. If I realize during the writing process that the plan isn't going to be executed the way I envisioned it, so help me, god, my brain will derail this entire thought train, and there will be no survivors.

It was a problem I frequently ran into when redrafting the first Hunger Pangs book, and my brain melted trying to assign chapters to things. I told my editors at one point, "I can't do this. Can you find where the chapter breaks should go?" and they very graciously took my walls of text and figured out where the chapter breaks should go because it's just not something my brain is good at doing. In fact, it was preventing me from actually writing.

(I suspect that's why I enjoyed the earlier Pratchett books so much. No chapters = no breaking my focus.)

It sounds to me like you're a natural pantser, not a plotter, but you're also (like me) the type of person who needs a liittttle bit of structure to help you keep flying by the seat of your pants or the momentum drops off, and you get bogged down in the wrong details.

The way I do this is to basically sit myself down and figure out the A to Z of the story, write down a list of things I Absolutely Want to Have Happen that I set into stone, and then kind of start listing things off like bullet points. Like this:

So top of my page is the starting goal, what do I want to have happen? I want my Blorbo to go on an adventure. Why? To... defeat the Evil Blorbo!

That is basically as simplistic as you can get. Some people don't need to get that simple, but sometimes setting it down on paper really helps, especially when you're prone to getting stuck in other details that don't progress the plot.

Next, I list out the core things I want to happen that are set in stone. So things like: -Blorbo's parent dies. -Blorbo meets the ragtag band of adventurers who teach them to survive. -Blorbo gets a sword that is integral to world-building. -Blorbo gets a scar as a sign of both the physical and psychological changes that have affected them. -Evil Blorbo gets their ass kicked.

Those things are set in stone like milestone markers and I will usually try to make them hit certain narrative beats for whatever genre I'm in, though not always. Sometimes a cool sword is just a cool sword.

Next, I move on to figuring out how I get to those points.

This is when I start writing the plot out as a laundry list:

PART ONE

Blorbo wakes up on the farm one day. It is a [descriptor] day. How does Blorbo feel about this?

Blorbo and their dad have a meaningful and deep conversation that will make the reader instantly hate you for killing him off in the next ten pages.

Blorbo meets up with their friends. Character building and perhaps some world-building ensues.

An EVENT of some sort happens, and CHAOS ensues.

PARENTAL FIGURE eats shit and dies.

Blorbo is thrust out into the world.

Blorbo on the road: shit is terrifying, and they really wish this adventure was happening to someone else.

And so on, so forth.

I make a point not to number any of these individual parts, as it helps me to move them around if I need to without feeling like I'm breaking up some set-in-stone order. If you want to try and break your list up into Parts to follow conventional story arcs, you can do that too.

But you can also leave that until the end if you like. As I said, I split my stuff up into chapters and parts during the editing phase.

There's no one right way to do this.

I also try to keep the list vague, as if I personally go into too much detail during the plotting stage, I lose interest in actually exploring the narrative details while writing. Because fuck me I guess.

Don't worry if the above is too vague for you. Nothing is stopping you from going back to those bullet points and expanding on them later if that works better for your creative needs.

The main goal right now is just getting from A to Z and listing out the steps so that you have a roadmap to find your way before you get distracted. It really is just sometimes helpful to say "Character does X" so you can move on and keep plotting until you have the vaguest of outlines which you can then expand on further if you want to.

After I've bullet-pointed my way from start to finish, I'll maybe go back and identify some areas in the story where I should be hitting certain genre beats, but otherwise, I'll just start writing and see what fits where.

Some people are likely screaming at how simplistic and undetailed that is, but again, everyone's creative process is different, and it's really just about playing around until you find that one that works for you.

I've tried just about every "how to write" guide out there, and in the end what works for me is a bastardized amalgamation of all of them.

I can't be a true panster, but nor can I be a detailed plotter.

I absolutely cannot think of things in strict chapter outlines or I will get overwhelmed. But breaking them up into parts is fine.

I also have to remind myself that sometimes when you are writing, a better solution will present itself and this does not mean the whole project needs to change/you need to start over.

The destination is still the same, and you will likely still hit many of the same points along the way. It's just now you might be taking a detour, and thankfully, you don't have to redraw the whole map. You can just follow the signs marked "diversion," which thankfully, you can also control because all of this is within you control.

Even when it doesn't feel like it.

I hope some of that is helpful. I'm still trying to work out how to explain how I do things in a clear manner. So I apologize if this isn't helpful 😅

#writing #plotting #pantsing #herding your adhd into writing a plot outline #like herding cats #long post

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thewrittingpan · 1 year

Text

Painting Lies 3

Phinks x reader, Fetain x reader, Shalnark x reader

Tigger and content warnings include but are not limited to: blood, gore, violence, kidnapping, abuse, mental health issues, trauma

Wc: 6501

Tumblr links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Ao3: Here

You think you remember the two blonds being there, but you also remember your legs being twice their usual size. Honestly you just stared at the ceiling for a bit wondering what the hell was going on in your head. For all you know you did get into a fight with a giant blanket yesterday but also you felt like you had somehow completed an entire treasure collection in that game you played. Everything in the dream was too close to reality for your liking.

“Hey Phinks?” You looked out into the hall to see if he was up.

“What?” The door across the hall from you opened.

“Weird question, did we have a staring contest during dinner or did I dream that?”

“That kind of happened.” he went to close the door.

“Okay, did you play video games yesterday with me watching?”

He looked at you terribly confused, “no?”

“Did we set up the table?”

“No, shalnark did.”

“Did I go to the basement? Does the basement have a whole art studio too? Because I dreamed there was like some art supply store or something in it and I feel like I'm going insane.”

“Yes to both.”

“Okay okay, now the part that ia really fucking with me is that i swear i woke up in the middle of the night-”

“You did.”

“-and you and the other guys were there-”

“Correct.”

“Then I got kissed goodnight by the three of you? And like some drink that you see moms in movies make for kids after a nightmare?”

He stood looking at you, you had no idea what he was thinking, honestly he looked as confused as you were.

“That didn’t happen, those two just wanted to see you before leaving.”

“Weird.” You mumbled to yourself. “It all felt like stuff that happened or could have.”

Everyone had dreams that left them confused when they woke up, or well you think everyone does. Waking up from them can vary, like with every other kind of sleep. When it came to “what the fuck happened who am I” level of confusion dreams waking up in anyway that left you dazed was not a good thing. What you personally think is worse is when you don’t feel like you have been asleep, or when you think you haven't had a dream.

Your thoughts fizzled out until you could have been a cartoon character with smoke coming out of their head. Confusion sticks, the whole day would probably feel off, and hell you might just fall back asleep with how just trying to think through it all was driving you mad.

“Are you going to spend time around the house or in your room?” Phinks was leaning against the door frame.

“Oh-“ you sifted through your ideas to keep yourself entertained.

There were the new games you’ve been given, but the clearly visible camera in your room had been creeping you out. You had some books but part of you couldn’t stand the idea of reading at the moment, something in your bones felt like they couldn’t find a comfortable way to sit to read. Maybe you could draw- there was that sketch you wanted to paint.

“I might go paint something?” You asked him.

It felt like you were allowed to go paint down there whenever, or that was the ideal goal they had with showing you it. Though there was something about this house, even with Shalnarks advice of Phinks being surprisingly soft, you felt like you were standing on an inch of ice and it was already waiting to break.

He nodded, “Not a bad idea, just don’t go past the curtain, Fetain doesn’t like anyone touching his things. I’ll make something simple to eat, I’m not much of a cook so you’ll have to put up with it or make your own food.” He walked past you towards the kitchen, “I’ll stay down there to make sure you don’t go poking around in things you don’t want to see.”

Yeah totally not threatening or creepy in the slightest. Hell part of you felt like a horror movie character right now, that vague warning only made you want to see what was down there. As you gathered your sketches your mind ran wild. The stairs in this unfinished basement were creaky wood. You looked at your feet as you descended, the wood was nice and sanded, with no nails that you could notice. Yet your mind drew with jagged lines, poorly put together stairs covered in splinters. That would be too empty, not enough visual interest but something could be drawn from those mental images of stairs. Maybe if something was spilling down the stairs it would be interesting, something twisted hidden in the shadows or beneath the stars themselves, something hard to notice but once you do it’s shocking.

You pulled out a pre-stretched canvas. For a while your hands hovered over two, each size would have its benefits, the smaller ones could make the figure have a “weaker” tone. Though the larger would allow the grotesque details you were longing for. Yet you could alter your concept slightly and “zoom in” on a smaller canvas, get up close and personal with the spine. You propped them both up so you could more easily compare them while sorting through your sketches. You tore them from the sketch book with a strange chaotic need. They were spread out across the cold concrete floor. Scattered and overlapped so they could all be seen without taking up much space. It was a kaleidoscope of paper and ink, and you were the crazed lunatic who had created it.

“You’ll have to pick those up when you finish painting.” Phinks stepped down the stairs holding a large plate full of scrambled eggs and waffles. “Or do you think you’ll need to have them spread out while working?”

“Do you have tape?” You asked, “Something stronger than a basic office tape, I could hang them on the wall?”

“Eat some, I’ll find some.”

The food was weirdly over and under done. The waffles had parts that were slightly more runny than they should be but the eggs were concerning. Parts were crispy and almost burnt, while the rest was fluffy, almost as if he had gotten distracted and almost made a bad omelette.

“Duck tape and packing tape.” He placed one roll of each on the table beside you.

“Oh, thanks, that’ll work fine.”

He was quiet, but it wasn't the same way Fetain is. Fetains silence was a threat, one you had grown used to. He had this weight to him that was impossible to ignore when alone, though he easily blended in and was easy to ignore in a group. Phinks was almost the opposite. You never noticed him when it was just him, though that didn’t mean you trusted him in the slightest. There was a comfort to him, familiar almost, half memories of moments with an old friend or a split second where you almost felt like you were sitting in the room with a long forgotten family member. Warmth tried to spread through you, you desperately wanted to trust him when you felt the familiarity, but how could you when you knew nothing about him.

You taped away. Deformed figures, haphazard diagrams and sketches of anatomy from memory. While each sketch held some semblance of a thought, a firework of an idea, sometimes you found that the best ideas grew when you worked without a clear thought. Molding fog and light created forms and shapes that you may overlook, sometimes you could compare them to an instinct, or a deep need to connect with something you had yet to fully understand.

These things made the beginning difficult but one of the most fun parts of it all. Every thought could be quickly scribbled out, fulfilling the urge to create, but not held back by perfection. It was wild, untamed, which made it unpredictable. A great idea could last a second before flickering out while a bad one could haunt you, not because the idea’s roots were rotten but because the branches had been infested by a failure to succeed.

You stared at the sketches of green bruises. The needles poked through skin, emerging from the bones themselves. Single drops of blood would sit atop the skin, staining it, drying deeply into the grooves. If the dirt and grime of the depicted horror went untreated it would stain not only the mind, but cling to the body like death itself, unable to be removed with hours upon days of scrubbing. It would always feel dirty, and you could always end up permanently stained.

This gorey twist that you adapted in your work was a little strange, even you had to admit it. You didn’t like the idea of torture porn when it came to horror movies, which some found surprising, clearly you didn’t hate it, but there had to be something gained from it. In your pieces you wanted each graphic mark to mean something, there needed to be a story you could read into if you wanted, but often they became reflections of struggles. It was relaxing, in the way that snapping and throwing something can make you sigh and sob after the frustration was finally released.

The thing about art is that it sucks ass. While it can be a weight off your shoulders and drain all of the stress out of you, it could just as easily make you want to stab someone’s eyes out. Staring at pins and needles for long enough just made you want to see your eyes shut so you didn’t have to see them everywhere else. Even closing your eyes made you think of the horrible blotchy shading that just did not want to work because you didn’t think and added too much water to your paints. Hell every time you groaned in frustration your fucking kidnapper look scared. So you tossed the brushes in the sink and worked on scrubbing out the paint before you ruined them right away.

“Do you usually work in these long multiple hour sessions?” He asked you over the sound of running water.

The water was cold, dangerously so. Your fingers toyed with the hair gently mixing small amounts of soap into it. This rhythmic movement helped calm you down and get out of the “holy mother of cats why won’t things go right” headspace that you got stuck in.

“Yeah, that’s common, anything less than three is an oddity.”

“I guess I just didn’t understand how hard it was.”

“Every job is kinda like that.”

You left the brushes on a spread out towel to dry. The pallet of rapidly drying paint was still there and there were a few reasons for why you didn’t clean off the paint; it’d ruin the plumbing, it was half dry anyways, you didn’t care, and it was fun to peel off later. If that little thing could give you some control maybe it would be worth it to wait and try to earn a way out.

Part of you felt like you were giving up too easily, that you had already lost your will to fight when you woke up that first day. Yelling at yourself wouldn’t do anything and you knew that but you felt like it was your fault. Perhaps you’re just the circus elephant tied to nothing. Yet you didn't blame yourself, or at least not as much as you think you were supposed to. Playing along and being good allows for you to be taken as a cute little pet that might be too frightened to try anything. Maybe other kidnappers are different.

You looked at Phinks from when he was leaning back in the folding chair balancing on its back legs. He was large, so much strength loomed over him, making him seem like the biggest in the room. Some damn part of him made you both think he was some jockey asshole like in movies and tv, or some large warm hearted man, though the latter seemed like a stretch.

“You’re starring again.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

You gathered up the sketchbook you had ripped a handful of pages out of. You should lie. Shalnark said something like “he wasn’t perceptive” right? What if you were wrong? What about telling the truth? Would he kill you in anger? Slam you into the wall? Be the manifestation of the shadows from the covered half of the basement that had been driving you crazy, pulling you back and deep down into its maw, screaming as you die from-

“Just say it, I’m in a good mood, I don’t want it ruined with some anxiety attack because you’re scared to say someth-.”

“I don’t know how to feel.” You didn’t turn back to him as you walked towards the stairs, stopping at its feet, so he knew you weren’t trying to run away. “I don’t want to upset you or the others and risk dying or something arguably worse. I feel like everything has to be said correctly or not at all so I don’t find out someone is secretly more delusional than a damn LSD trip.”

You heard the chair squeak a bit as he stood up and walked towards the stairs, he didn’t stop like you and slowly started climbing them, slowly so you could continue.

“I should be scared, angry, maybe I should try to kill someone, or myself, try to escape? I don’t know, I can’t do any of those. I don’t want to, I hate how nice my room was, there was so much thought, so much detail, it felt so real, so close to my messy room. It creeps me out, enjoying the food, the room, the clothes, even the personal products make me feel like I graduated from a top academy with no debt and no depression.”

You lead him down the hall towards the living room. “I haven’t even looked outside you know, somehow I feel like it’ll make or break the dream. I think it might make me try something stupid, make me snap or something. I want to feel okay but I don’t, and when I don’t want to feel okay I do!” You ripped the curtain open, startling yourself.

“Did the window change anything?”

Woods. Beautiful moss covered trees that stretched far. The fire kissed trees rained down their leaves and it looked gorgeous. It reminded you of that date with the cats, the betrayal, of this fuck up of yours. It was something akin to heaven in your eyes, a perfectly twisted picture.

“I miss home.” You said finally tears slipping through your horribly masked emotions. You turned from the window stepping away from its bright light and into your dark room. You didn’t close the door fully behind you, it was very easy to look through the gap.

The blankets were smooth but when you burrowed into them to avoid everything, they felt fluffy against your skin. Even as your breath filled the underneath of them with hot air that felt suffocating, you accepted it with open arms. Stale warm air was unpleasant but it felt like the first warmth you’d felt in eons. The world outside this nest was cold and cruel, and you felt chained to the bed the more you thought about it.

The room's gentle darkness left you thinking as you tossed and turned. You fought back sobs but didn’t care about the tears that leaked down your face. Your sweetest boy laid next to you, his paw resting atop your hand as you faced him and the wall. You longed for the comfort of your real bed, sitting on the small balcony with your cat as he stared wide eyed at the birds.

Maybe you could have avoided this. Maybe if you had kept to yourself, avoided people like you had grown accustomed too, you could have continued your life. It didn’t change the fact that you were here now, but you were haunted by it. Those dark eyes at the damn exhibit. Why did it have to happen? Were you a fool? Were there any signs that you could have noticed? No matter how much crying you did or didn’t do you hated every second you were left to think about anything. Each damn second made you manic, and every other one made you depressed and unable to move. You felt so nauseous that soon you just vomited and sat on the bathroom floor headhung as you finally sobbed.

It was loud and obnoxious, you were lucky only one other person was home. It bounced off the walls. Phinks could definitely hear you. It was the kind of sob that was scratchy and full of angry screams, perfect for a tantrum that would destroy everything in a close area. You felt like a toddler who had been told no when asking for candy, a brat who wanted something. It felt like you were the problem even if you were just a victim of your surroundings. Yet you screamed and cried until your throat was sore, until it felt like it could have been bleeding, and you choked on the bubbling sobs as snot filled every airway.

You laid in a puddle of yourself, not moving when the front door opened and slammed shut. Unblinking as keys jingled down the hall with heavy footsteps. Looking with tired weak eyes, up at Phinks who stood, with plastic bags in hand, his face red and his eyes looking at the wall instead of you.

“It’s late, Fei and Shal want you to have a routine but they're not here… come stay up late and watch a movie or something? Shal bought some of your favorites and ones you’ve talked about! I have some chocolate, or popcorn if you’d like? I’m not sure what you all like when it comes to movie snacks…”

Your voice was so scratchy it hurt to hear you speak. “Please…” you whined as he helped pull you up and onto the living room couch.

He handed you the bags, a multipack of tissue boxes, an assortment of chocolate, popcorn, beer, teas, sodas, chips... You dug through it all and he returned with blankets in hand and a stuffed animal he knew you were attached to, that they all knew you were attached to.

He sat next to you, draping the blankets over you. He pulled a box of tissues out handing one to you. “Use the bag as a garbage bag for now.” He laid out everything haphazardly. He gently pulled your head down onto his lap and pressed the remote into your hand.

The blue glow of the tv puts you to sleep soon enough. It didn’t matter if it was one movie or ten, you were asleep, as soon as you were Phinks was too. You used his lap as a pillow, and Phinks leaned back, his head tossed over the couch’s back, his mouth hung open with a light snore as the tv eventually turned itself off.

In the morning you woke up when the keys turned to open the door’s lock. It made you jolt awake as the door was pushed open. Shalnark was clicking through his phone as he carried in a handful of something.

“Oh, you’re both up? How was the movie night?”

You sunk into the blankets giving back into your exhaustion. “Okay.”

You said it mostly to avoid any upset feelings on his end, the movie night was a nice way to avoid it all. You hated it considering everything, but those few hours of just zoning out at the tv and falling asleep to your favorite movies made you fell like home. You could imagine it so vividly it is what lulled you to sleep, the house didn’t have that smell of the three men, it was your home filled with cat fur, paints, and gesso.

You could feel the canvas frame from when you had to custom build one for a commission. Having to stretch it yourself, and you struggled to pull it back enough for it to hold well. The frame was obnoxiously large, you couldn’t fathom how they had the money to commission it or why they’d need one this size. That one had become a secret favorite, it was in someone’s private collection, an anonymous commissioner. You remember them sending someone to pick it up, which was strange, but if someone had that money how weird could it really be?

“Fei will be appearing soon, he has to drag something down to his office.” Shal giggled to himself speaking without catching his breath. “He’s surprisingly very interested in the work he brought back. It’s like a cat that got a hold of a mouse and doesn’t want to let it go.”

He set his envelope of papers down on the table, and sat down next to you on the couch. He was in front of you really, your back pressed firm against the couch nearly sinking into the cushions and the framework. Shalnark was turned slightly so he could face you and Phinks easily, his knees pressed against the front of the couch and one of Phinks’ knees. He breathed in deeply, his breath pushing both his stomach and chest out, he sort of chuckled as he sighed and leaned over to rest his head on the sofa’s back next to Phinks’ shoulder.

“I missed being home.”

Phinks and you didn’t say anything in response. Maybe Phinks secretly hated Shalnark, well, obviously not, but his silence kind of confused you. He cared deeply about the two from what you could tell, but who's to say you were ever good at reading the room. Your view upwards was obstructed by Shalnark hovering-leaning over you. Phinks moved his arm, you could see its shadow crossover you briefly, but you didn’t see what he did. Shalnark sat there resting with the two of you, this serene glazed look to him. He looked so pleasant, his hair hanging in his face, and his eyes closed.

He did eventually move, while he seemed content that was in no way comfortable to sit there for long. Shal eventually collected his things and ran off to go put them away. You gathered up the mess from the night before. Phinks took the trash out, you saw the cement steps out front as the door opened, and cool air rushed in to kiss your cheeks. The cat with wide eyes watched him complete his chores from the window, while you avoided looking at them. It was easier to stay busy with wiping the table and stacking the coasters in a neat pile in the center.

You kept wiping the table. Slow circular motions as you dazed off. The window just hurt you. Its clear glass was a mirror of your betrayal and gentle suffering, every damn time you saw that view it reminded you of the damned date. That date would remind you of his hands in your hair as you sobbed into his lap. What kind of suffering is this all? To be cursed with the inability to act, but blessed with a comfort of home and kindness. though it came from triplet tyrants. What tragedy had you fallen out of?

You went about giving yourself chores, dusting the shelves and tv stand, sweeping the kitchen floor, making a few pancakes with a box mix you had found, then cleaning up the mess you had made. Your hour or two of small chores only could keep you distracted for so long. You could hear Shalnark from his room, typing away on a keyboard and flipping through papers. When you walked past the basement you could hear things being moved around. It was faint and muffled, almost like you were hearing things, you wanted to go down there, the curiosity haunting you, but I’d anyone scared you the most it was Fetain.

You pushed open Phinks’ door. He had looked up at you as you did, but he didn’t say a thing, just motioned for you to come in. It was simple, navy sheets that were wrinkled, a strange mixture of pillows that didn’t have matching cases. There were some clothes lying around the room and the closet was open. He had a simple fold up chair in the corner and some green running jacket thrown across it. He didn’t have curtains, just the plastic blinds though some were bent and damaged. The closest thing to decoration was a digital clock on a wooden stool made bedside table and high quality at home gym equipment on the floor and tucked away into the closet.

“Need something?”

“I’ve never seen your rooms.” You half ignored the question, “and I don’t want to work on my painting when Fetain is working.”

He hummed, and you sat down on his bed looking at his window with the blinds pulled shut. “I hate it,” you said quietly to yourself, not knowing fully what you meant. “I might drive myself crazy. I keep trying to make things make sense, but I don’t get it.” You flopped down and rolled over, you didn’t look up at his face, didn’t acknowledge if he was looking at you or listening. “I think I’m ignoring half of everything to try and pretend that I’m okay.”

His hand rested on your head, his fingers playing with your hair. “You’re putting up with it well, though coming from me that doesn’t mean much.”

You grabbed his hand and his shirt. Pulling yourself up, straddling his waist. “Why couldn’t you have killed me? Torture me? Why not just make my life a real living hell? I feel like I’m burning but there’s nothing there, I keep thinking I’m drowning but I’m not!” Your hand trailed up to his neck, your nails pressing into his jugular, as you pinned him down to the bed. He laid there with his eyes wide but he didn’t move. “Please give me a good reason to hate it here! Please, I can't understand what’s going on! I didn’t ask for this. I don't know what I’m here for!” you screamed at him, though it wasn’t loud, just desperate. “I can’t do anything.”

His hand grabbed your hip and his other grabbed your neck, and he flipped the roles so he was hunched over you. His nails pressed into your skin. There was no weight to the threat. His hands while touching you, felt like they were hovering.

“You’re allowed to be angry, you don’t need permission for it.” And his hands were lifted away. and he was back on his side of the bed laying just like he was earlier, as if you never disrupted him.

Then you cried, you laid there curled up in a ball next to him. He never touched you, until you reached out and touched him, pulling yourself into his arms. He held you then gently and quietly until you relaxed and laid there half asleep and exhausted. His hands cupped your cheeks and you were held close to his face, his mouth a meare inch from your nose.

“I’ll do anything for you, even if you don’t like us or being here. We will do anything to keep you safe. I’ll make you as happy as I can, I swear to you I will.”

You heard Fetain come up from the basement when the door slammed shut. He was lighter than air with his footsteps so when he walked into Phinks’ room and ended up next to the bed you nearly screamed. “Try to sleep at ten and wake up at six. You need good sleep routine.”

You nodded, Phinks had mentioned it right? Ten to six seemed reasonable. “Exactly 6 am?”

“Roughly. Take time to change, one week to do yourself.”

“I’ll try to do it.” You nodded and a yawn slipped from your lips.

“Take nap, us three will talk work.” He waited for Phinks to get up.

Phinks patted your shoulder, “stay here and sleep for a bit we don’t want you dealing with our work stuff yet.”

“Okay.”

But Feitain hovered for a second longer than he needed to, just quietly looking at you with this deep thoughtful look in his eyes, yet he left without saying anything.

They had a habit of leaving you alone with your thoughts. Thankfully your cat at least sits with you when you need it, most of the time.

There was nothing to do with them all being busy. Something told you not to poke around for answers about what they were discussing. Even though you weren’t gonna search around for answers your mind wandered. It was a gross wandering similar to how one could lay in bed and gaze up into the darkness and just sit there. Rambling and turning whispers in your thoughts flashing images of blood gore and violence. How could anyone imagine what their jobs could be? You were used to surrounding yourself with images of oozing guts, but just beccause you had been decentized to it didn’t mean that fucking kidnappers who seemed more than used to living isolated was something you could handle.

You ran your hand back from the cat’s nose to his ears. He pressed himself so firmly against your hand that his eyelids were slightly pulled back as he demanded all of your attention. You could feel him breathing on you, his soft purrs are loud as he clung to you. When the fur around his face is pushed back his whole meringue look changes to one of a rat. His eyes while blown wide into dark saucers continue to look up at you fondly, his fur looks like a front facing bald eagle. There’s a reason you hardly ever see those angles, it’s less flattering. There’s less pride and a slicked back edge that is perceived as coolness. This is what that sweet cat looked like from this angle, his poofy roundness disappeared and strange looking from the front, while you never truly have looked too explore the other angles of the strange hair-do, the adorably crafted ugliness makes you melt into him as he melts into you.

As you lay there thoughts bubbling up worries and anxiety scratching away at your insides, this sweet fluff keeps you grounded. As was his task, he was an unofficial emotional support cat, nothing more than a pet that kept you mentally stable and provided both a comfort and reason to live. It was easy on the days where the paints seemed poisoned to be unable to reason and find out why you were alive. You wondered if everyone questioned this at times perhaps that’s why your artwork seemed so desperate, why you just cling to an intestine rope to pull you closer to answers and people who relate. It’s not something you can say for sure but even now, after a few years of this cat he kept you perfectly content to question but not give up.

He was also a good muse, posing in ways during his naps. Belly up, his head laid back against a pillow, his front paws folded under his chin but his back legs sticking upwards like two towers, fluffy and off white. He laid his ways that made it hard to determine if he was a cat or strang fluffy void, even though lots of cats did that. No matter how many photos and squeals you let out, it never felt the same, there simply isn't a connection. No photo could replace your cat, because you knew just about everything about him.

Sometimes you wondered if you relied too much on the cat, you’d question if the kidnappers thought the same if you weren’t so preoccupied with anything else. Even in captivity it seemed like you never had time for anything. All your plans would get mixed up or you would get horribly distracted. You acted as if you were wandering naked in a dark maze with how time snuck up on you. With no one to truly tell you otherwise you gave into it when you could, which was most of the time. Hours would be spent gazing off into walls and corners as you painted in your own head, it didn’t matter if you pictured it or not, it was the mental motions of the act that kept you entranced.

A jiggle of a brush, a whirlpool of the paint thinner. Hell the actions are what lured you down into the basement again. You hadn’t been told to stay, hadn't been told not to. You may not have paid attention to the home as you were pulled down to the basement by your navel; the living was quiet though the three men hummed and buzzed with a quiet conversation. You continued onto the door opening it so gently and silently you might have well just phased through the door to begin with. The unfinished steps hadn’t groaned or creaked as you stepped on them even though they should. The door hovered open, the light peering and stealing across the floor to the hall now behind you. As a moth would you step down and forwards moving towards your painting.

At this moment your eyes flashed with one lucid thought, “something isn’t right.” It didn't take a genius to know this but somehow as you were drugged by your own relaxation and you had taken the liberty to forget about everything that had been a bright neon sign telling you something was amiss. You looked away from your studio and across the room at another’s.

It’s important to note that some people have a personal belief that art is in the eye of the beholder, regardless of whether each piece usually has an original meaning in the grand scheme of things. You had thoughts and ideas, messages and stories to tell through your paintings. Each a commentary on something since you didn’t believe in unthoughtful gore and brutality, that wasn’t to say it had no meaning, but that there wasn’t a personal thought being expressed even deep below the surface. In this belief of art interpretation all art has at least two meanings, the artist’s original suffering inquiry, and the viewer’s lack of understanding. With this in mind the scene behind the curtain is much different then one in your studio.

The curtain had always been a temptation, that’s a simple fact of the matter. Place a marshmallow in front of a child and most struggle to resist even with the promise of more. This curtain in your case was so much more than temptation. A temptation is often pictured as sweet and sugary, lustful even, not a need but a want. This curtain was so much more than that, it was thorn covered and speckled with a lifetime of warnings but it wasn’t sweet, there was no guarantee of safety but an expectation of more. Even then you peeled it back.

It was more than a treasure trove of goodies, it was a threatening pile of one. The lights were on and you were slammed into with information as you peared across it all, for instance the room was large, much larger than you thought it was. While most of it was still unfinished further back against the far wall was a much more finished section. That is what you noticed second but you just were too in shock to register the first yet. The furthest wall was finished, a simple gray paint and from it hung old custom paintings, things both long forgotten and new. They were strange to see though in comparison to your room when you had first woken up nothing crazy. The first thing you noticed was crazier, though not too surprising.

The wall was lined with a board, hanging from it an assortment of household tools and even more specialty ones. Mostly pliers, wrenches, screwdrivers of all sorts of sizes. There were spools of wire, rope, and bolt cutters. There were more too, there were tweezers, the heavy duty kind, expensive looking, stainless steel and with a rubber grip. Each item while normally not threatening was fucking horrifying. The blindfolded and gagged half-dead looking man would ultimately agree if he saw the line up. Yet the detail of the organization, to the bindings, and yes even the table he was on, made it look like a perfectly created scene. To Feitain, who you half-confidently assumed was the resident torturer, this must be something artistic or even religious, sometimes the two came hand in hand.

His hair was glued by brown dried blood, his nose broken, the bruising covering his cheeks and eyes from what you could tell from afar. There was no way for him to escape from his binds, strapped down to the table. The table itself looked to be something akin to an embalming table, slightly slanted towards a floor drain, some blood already leaking down from the man and dried against the table’s cold smudged metal. He had bruises down his arms and legs dark purple and splotchy. His ankle looked painfully enlarged, not enough to be a break but horribly sprained.

You should have screamed in horror, your heartbeat sped up like crazy after all. There was enough adrenaline that maybe you could have killed a person, not your captors from the look and attitude of them. If a captor can be so unconcerned like they were either they were morons or knew full well that they had perfect complete control. From a second kidnapped person being in the basement looking like a corpse it’s easy to decide which.

Looking on even in your shocked state you made your third discovery. There were bulkhead doors. A small flight of stairs led up to them. In your shock you continued to move like a ghost, even though your chest was pounding. It rumbled in your gut, twisted and stabbed at your lungs, and you looked upwards at it, upwards into the dark steps a small crack of light. Your cat in all his loving sweetness rubbed up against your leg, mewling softly. You walked forwards reaching upward towards the door, climbing the stairs and gently pressing to see if they’d open, to your surprise it did.

#x reader fanfiction #fanfiction #hxh x reader #hxh #yandere #fanfic #feitan x reader #yandere phinks x reader #phinks x reader #yandere shalnark #shalnark x reader #yandere feitan x reader #yandere feitan #Phinks #yandere fanfiction

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tcwmatchmakingau · 11 months

Text

The Sixth Language (part 1)

Pairing: Waxer x Fem!Reader (single parent)

Rating: T

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings and tags: pure fluff; mild language; reader is a foodie

Read the full series: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

“Ohhh, I don’t know, Nyra,” you say hesitantly. “It sounds a little—”

“Amazing?” your best friend interrupts. “Perfect? Once-in-a-lifetime?”

“Risky,” you say as you pull an assortment of veggies out of the conservator and set them on your kitchen counter to start prepping dinner.

“How is it risky?” Nyra demands, her indignant face flickering in the blue glow of your holocom. “I think the clones have proven by now that they are good, honorable men, and even if they weren’t, the agency has strict screening protocols.”

“It’s not that,” you reply. “It’s just that Kaia is old enough now that she is likely to get attached, and what happens if things don’t work out? I don’t want to break her little heart.”

“So don’t introduce her until you feel like things will work out,” Nyra says. You shoot her a grumpy look as you start to chop the vegetables with more force than is strictly necessary.

“What are you cooking?” she asks, momentarily distracted.

“Roasted lamta soup,” you reply, hoping she’ll drop the subject. “Kaia’s favorite.”

“Can I have some?” she asks nonchalantly.

“I’ll bring some for lunch tomorrow, but only if you stop bugging me about the other thing,” you say.

“I thought you were pro-clone,” Nyra says.

“You know I am! I supported CRPA just like you. That doesn’t mean I have time, energy, or inclination to date one,” you reply.

“I don’t get it,” Nyra says. “You could at least test the waters, have a little fun, flirt with a hot trooper or three. Or is Kaia’s heart not the only one you’re worried about?”

“The last thing I need is another child to raise,” you say. “Every guy I've dated since I had Kaia has either been scared off by the fact that I'm a single parent, or has fetishized me as a MILF.”

“I mean, you are a bit of a MILF,” Nyra jokes with an exaggerated wink. “I'd do you.”

“You are too kind,” you say drily, “but Kaia and I are fine just the way we are.”

“I know you are,” she says. “You're a badass and an amazing mom, and Kaia is lucky to have you. But you deserve nice things, sweetie.”

“Do you think I'm going to find nice things at some dating service?” Your tone is sharper than you intend, but Nyra is unfazed.

“It's not a dating service. It's a matchmaking service. As in, they do extensive research and find someone who matches your lifestyle, goals, and priorities.”

“Right, and nobody ever lied so they could get their dick wet,” you retort.

“You should talk to a therapist about your trust issues,” Nyra says. “Believe me when I say the clones don't need a matchmaking service to find a hookup. The ones who are using it are looking for something meaningful. Besides, when have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Many times!” you exclaim. “So, so many times. Remember when we were on Canto Bight, and you told me—”

“An aberration,” Nyra interrupts hastily. “Trust me, babe, this is no gamble. What do you have to lose?”

Which is how you find yourself sitting across a conference table from Tarsi Renda, a representative of the Right to Love Matchmaking Service, with a strained, overly enthusiastic smile pasted on your face. Tarsi is brisk and businesslike, but she seems friendly enough. She asks you an endless litany of questions about yourself, your background, your work, your personal goals, your hobbies, and so on.

“And what is it that you’re looking for in a partner?” she asks.

This is such a terrible idea. Damn you, Nyra!

“Er, I’m not entirely sure,” you confess. “I suppose the most important thing is kindness. Someone patient and gentle.”

“Sense of humor?” she asks.

“Yes, of course,” you say. Has anyone in the galaxy ever said they’d prefer a partner who had no sense of humor? “But not the kind of humor that depends on putting other people down.”

Tarsi scribbles something onto her notepad. “Good with children?”

“Yes,” you say firmly. That part is non-negotiable.

You haven’t mentioned Kaia. You know you probably should, but your prior experiences make you shy away from sharing too much of yourself, and you’ll be damned if you put your daughter at risk without knowing exactly who you’re going to be matched with.

“Just a few more questions,” she says. “What made you seek out Right to Love’s services?”

My bestie harangued me until I agreed to try it out just to get her to shut up, you think.

“A friend recommended it to me,” you reply. “I’ve had some bad dating experiences, and she thought I might have better luck if I had help screening the—er…”

“Applicants?” Tarsi supplies helpfully.

“That makes it sound a little crass,” you admit.

“That’s all right. After all, we are screening you, too,” Tarsi says with a twinkle in her eyes. “The clones have been through enough as it is; the last thing we want to do is match them with someone who only sees them as playthings.”

“I definitely am not looking for a plaything,” you say with a shudder.

“Have you ever met a clone?” she asks.

“Um, no,” you confess. “I’ve only seen them on the holonews.”

“I see,” she says, scribbling another note, and you wonder if you’ve failed some sort of test. “Right, well, I think I have everything I need. I’ll be in touch with an update within the next few weeks.”

Tarsi stands and extends a hand to shake yours, and it’s clear that you’re being dismissed. You gather your things and thank her for your time, then leave the building, feeling an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. You hadn’t been exactly enthusiastic about the idea of using a matchmaking service, but it still stings to realize that you don’t measure up. You shrug off your self-doubts and head to pick up Kaia from daycare, determined not to let the experience ruin your day.

The next few weeks are incredibly busy at work, and you soon forget all about RTL. And then one afternoon, you get home from work and find a message indicator blinking on your comlink. It’s from Tarsi, and she says she’s found a potential match—when would be a good time for you to meet up?

One late morning a few days later, you wait at the designated meeting place outside one of Coruscant’s sprawling open-air markets. You are more nervous than you should be. It’s just a date, after all. It’s not like you’re signing your life away. Your hands are sweaty, and you smooth them across the fabric of your dress to dry them off. It took forever to figure out what to wear, and you still aren’t entirely convinced that a sundress was the best option. You wanted to wear something cute, but now you wonder if it makes you look like you are trying too hard.

Damn it, this is the worst idea I’ve ever had. Why did I agree to this? I can’t believe I’m paying a babysitter just so I can go on a stupid date. I should go home. I’ll pick up some takeout on the way, and Kaia and I can go to the park. This is so stupid, I should just—

Your spiraling thoughts are interrupted when a deep, smooth voice calls your name. You turn automatically, and your mouth goes dry when you see the speaker.

Holy maker.

You know what the clones look like, thanks to the holonews, but most of the time you’ve seen them, they’ve either been in full armor or too far away to get a good look. RTL Matchmaking had sent you a holo of your match, but it had been a stiff, formal headshot, probably pulled from some official database. You are totally unprepared for the reality of the man standing in front of you.

He is tall and impossibly broad, with rich brown skin and the softest eyes you’ve ever seen. His head is shaved, but there’s a shadow of scruff on his jaw, and a small patch of facial hair below his distractingly full bottom lip.

“Yes?” you ask, snapping your eyes up to meet his gaze and hoping he didn’t notice you ogling his mouth.

“I’m Waxer,” he says with an easy smile that makes his lovely, honey-colored eyes crinkle.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you manage, suddenly very glad that you hadn’t bailed on the date and gone home early.

You shake his hand, which feels weirdly formal, but you’ve never gone on a blind date before, and you aren’t sure about the etiquette. His hands are large and warm, and they engulf yours, making you feel small and delicate. He seamlessly draws your hand to his forearm as the two of you begin walking, and you have to admire the smoothness of his game.

“I’ve never been to one of these markets before,” he observes. “What made you choose this place to meet up?”

You probably shouldn’t tell him that you picked it because there were plenty of witnesses around if he turned out to be a creep, and that it’s nice and crowded and easy to disappear in if you decide to abandon ship.

“It’s one of my favorite places on Coruscant,” you say instead, and it’s not even a lie. “I love being able to see all the different foods from across the galaxy, and there are so many amazing artists who sell their work here, too.”

“Which ones do you like best?” he asks, and that’s all it takes.

The two of you wander through the twisting pathways of the market, eating ice cream and tasting samples of food from all of the different vendors. Waxer is fearless, and he is willing to try anything, including foods even you aren’t brave enough to taste. Some he hates, and some he loves, and he always convinces you to try the ones he likes. As he feeds you a bite of klak, his fingers brush against your lips, warm and soft, and you gasp a little at the sensation as sparks of awareness dance across your skin.

“Good?” he asks.

“It’s delicious,” you say to cover your reaction to him. “You should try a bite.”

The two of you talk and talk, and he tells you about all the different planets he’s visited, while you tell him about growing up on your home planet and what it was like to move to Coruscant for work. The conversation flows effortlessly, and the more you learn about Waxer, the more intrigued you become.

The market is endlessly fascinating to him, and he takes it all in with wide eyes. “We were never allowed in these places during the war. I can’t believe how many kinds of food there are here!”

“A whole galaxy’s worth,” you say. “People come to Coruscant from all over, and they bring their food culture with them. If you like seafood, you should visit Little Mon Cala sometime. There’s a little hole-in-the-wall place that serves the best chowder this side of Trask.”

“Maybe we should go there on our next date,” Waxer says with a charming smile.

“Oh, are we having another?” you ask flirtatiously.

“I would like that very much,” he says, and you’re almost startled by the sincerity in his voice.

You’re so accustomed to people playing games or hiding their true intentions that Waxer’s straightforwardness throws you off balance.

“I would, too,” you reply, realizing that it’s true.

Before you register how many hours have passed, it’s late afternoon, and you need to get back home before the babysitter’s fee bankrupts you. You and Waxer exchange comm details, and when you say goodbye, he is a perfect gentleman. He doesn’t even try to kiss you, which is fine. Totally fine. Not disappointing at all.

You return home in an excellent mood, and Kaia is delighted to see you. You scoop her up and squeeze her into a tight hug that makes her squeal with excitement, and once the babysitter departs, you put your favorite song and dance around your apartment with your sweet little giggling girl. She babbles endlessly at you as she tells you all about her big day, which apparently involved several arts and crafts activities, as well as a truly epic session of play pretend, judging by the astonishing number of dolls strewn about the apartment.

You tidy up as Kaia eats her dinner, and even though your cynical brain warns you that it’s too early to get excited, you can’t quite suppress the little thrill of hope in your heart whenever you think about Waxer.

#tcw matchmaking au #clone matchmaking au #212th Attack Battalion #submission #clone trooper waxer #212th battalion #waxer x reader #waxer x you

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starcloud-nova · 11 months

Note

PLEASE ramble to me about your OCs I am 👀👀👀

Catla this ask has been sitting in my inbox for so long that it has gotten EMBARASSING but I will move past all that and take this opportunity you have given me. Thank u. This ended being 2k+ words and it’s late and I’m tired of half-assedly proofreading so I am putting it out into the world.

Some preface before we get into it (there are a lot of prefaces bear with me!): The story of my original OCs (just 2-3 characters) was “what if there was a character, and she was adopted by [character I am too embarrassed to name], and there was found family.” This was the end goal. Everything else was backstory. They started off as Marvel OCs, then BNHA, then Haikyuu, then Black Clover, then DC, before I finally decided that they were too far removed from any canon to fit into a preexisting story and finally made them just original characters.

By the time I hit DC OCs’, I decided I needed a team of people for my main OCs (siblings) to be friends and allied with, to juxtapose the batfam, so I created a plethora of OCs to go along with them. Suddenly we had a lot of characters, and I needed to thread them all together. I developed my own dynamics, backstories, and other details for all of these characters.

Instead of starting with an archetype or trope (hothead, scarecrow, hero, rebel, sunshiney, miserable, etc), I started with different events or moments in their lives. Essentially, I went backward, deciding key events before personality (kind of like how real life works…) This is what makes it so hard to describe my OCs to people. There isn’t just a set of keywords I can pull out of nowhere*, like “happy-go-lucky” or “angry” because they react differently in different situations. The only way to know the full range of my characters is to…know them.

*This is for most of my OCs. some of them I never developed as much, so they’re a little more black and white. Looking at you, Kicks.

That was a lot of ramble (it’s well past 1am as I write this) but to boil it down, the reason why i shared all of this information is this: My OCs are not ‘characters’ to me. They are people. They are so complex and have rich histories and aren’t just moodboards or aesthetics to me. And there’s no single plotline that I follow through either (more on this later**), because there is no overarching plot throughout their entire lives. Conflicts get resolved, or there are multiple at once, just like how someone can have both school and home life drama at once.

No, I don’t know their favorite songs, or movies, or colors, or what their ‘likes’ and ‘dislikes’ are. Yes, I know that Daiken would never ever speak to Brii again after everything, and he would definitely fight her if they ever met again, but he still picked up the phone when she called because he knew that she would only call him if it was important. And it was.

Sorry,. I am so normal abt my OCs. no one will read this post LMAO but . oh well. Already at 500 words and no sign of the end.

So the most basics are this:

For the sake of this post, ‘canon’ is at this point in time: Sachi Kojima (she) (16) lives with her three brothers, her twin Kazuki (he) (16), younger (half-)brother Kaito (he) (11), and elder brother Daiken (he) (21). Daiken is their legal guardian and took custody of them when he was 18, after The Incident™ when their severely abusive father (who was also a crimelord) was arrested. Her mother died when she was 4.

Remember that thing I mentioned about the crimelord? Yeah, so as it turns out [bear with me this is the least plausible part of the story] all of the local bigger criminals/crimelords in the area…participate in ‘bring your kid to work day’, like, most days. Yeah, yeah I know. All of the Criminals™ are lowkey training their kids to follow in their footsteps and take them with them to places but also leave them in this old ass conference room for hours at a time I DONT KNOW it doesnt sound plausible to me either. Anyways. Jokingly, this group of kids call themselves the ‘Junior Murderers Club’ and they fuck around and do a whole lot of Nothing and bond while their parents talk about crime and get drunk and shit. They also call themselves ‘Sixes’ because they’re either six inches away [from their parent] or six rooms away, unless they wanna be six feet under…haha.

This group of kids exists in the ‘pre-canon’ of the story (from when Daiken was 12-17) and consists of:

Daiken Kojima (he/him) (age 14 for reference)

Former team leader

Original codename: Moonstrike

Current codename: Redpoint

Maisie “Maze” Morian (she/her) (15) [deceased]

Codename: Freyja

Brielle “Brii” Hayes (she/her) (14)

Codename: Widow

Jacob Myers (he/they) (14)

Codename: Nightlight

James “Jamie” Moreno (he/him) (13) [deceased]

Codename: Piccolo

[Deadname] “Amelie” Espinosa (she/they) (12)

Original codename: Torito

Current codename: Mariposa

Lorena Inés “LS” Sauly (she/they) (12)

do NOT call her by her first name or they will kill u

Codename: Siren

[Deadname] “Kicks” Hall (they/them) (11)

Codename: Kicks

Daiken is one of the few people that can still get away with calling Kicks ‘KJ’, their old nickname derived from their deadname + their codename, Kicks.

Azarus “Azz” Adams (he/him) (10)

Codename: Merlin

Best friends w/Kazuki (currently 17), also hates his first name lol

They are all trauma buddies and went on missions together n stuff and they all mostly*** hated their parents. After Sachi + co. (her siblings) escape their situation, they all kind of break off, and eventually they form the Information League, or the IL, or just… no name at all because I’m still not satisfied with that one.

***EXCEPT Brii who was treated quite well by her father and was brainwashed/manipulated into believing that what they did was okay in some capacity. She is essentially Daiken’s narrative foil and I love her to death. She is the worst. Stupid gay bitch <3

One of the previous generations of Sixes is Perria Dawson (she/her, codename: Delphi), who is ten years older than Daiken (so in canon, 31) who watched silently from the shadows, collected information, and slowly worked her way out of the complicated network of crime that she was entrapped in to eventually Get Out. She specialized in information gathering and staying under the radar. The IL’s base is a warehouse that her father used to own but sorta kinda forgot about, so she took over it when she got away from him and made it HQ. Notably, it has a big open space with high ceilings that they call the Fly, short for flyspace, a few rooms out of the way (kind of hidden) that she lives in with her kids (see below) part-time, and high rafters with those criss-crossy metal ladder things that are a bunch of X’s and stuff.

In current canon, she’s a programmer or something like that and works a day job and while she’s cool with calls, everyone else feels bad for mooching off of her, so she’s Not to be disturbed during this time. She is my Deus ex machina. Anytime something goes Majorly wrong, someone always has to say the line “I’m calling Perria”.

Perria also has the habit of picking up strays lmao and later takes in Manha Latif (she her, codename: Trebleclef, 15 in canon), my little meow meow who was not a Six but had a much beloved older brother who disappeared after dealing with some fucked up shit, so she got a little toooo involved in the nightlife and the IL got involved and now she’s one of them. Her brother (Binyamin) is probably dead rip and during all of this mess, her mom goes back overseas to Pakistan and is currently living there, so Perria was like “yea dude I’ll take you in”, so she lives with Perria

A year and a half later, she adopts the strangest fuckin little kid who talks like an adult and doesn’t know her name and appears from the shadows when you call for her and oh shit she’s probably magic or something. When you let a six-year-old pick their own name they will generally pick shit like Andromeda (or Anna for short). They refer to her as ‘The Kid™’ or ‘Star’ in the field.

Other character info I didn’t mention:

Sachi’s codename is ‘Scapegoat’ to reclaim her identity as the childhood scapegoat, because “everything’s always my fault, isn’t that right? 🙄”

Kazuki’s and Kaito’s I am still not completely satisfied with. I have spent many walks home contemplating something that doesn’t sound like a 12 year old came up with but it is hard I tell you. Kaito doesn’t really go into the field much anyway because everyone is determined to not traumatize him anymore than he already is but the name I picked for him is Gear. Kazuki is Steel.

If anyone has suggestions, my criteria are that Kazuki’s starts with an S (to match his sister) and sounds somewhat physics-y or steampunk/cyberpunky. Kaito’s is so weird that anything works really but he likes animals and will probably be a vet so keep that in mind. Also reminder he is 11.

Now that most of my characters are out of the way it’s time to explain the **many plotlines that I have going on. When I come up with scenarios in my mind, they fit into the below categories. Essentially, if I wanted to actually sit down and tell the story of these kids, these are the options that I have.

One: The Early Days (2011-2019)

The abuse Daiken, Sachi, Kazuki, and Kaito faced at the hands of their father for 8 years. This is either from Sachi’s or Daiken’s point of view.

Sachi has the unique experience of being the scapegoat and most hated child and also only girl (which is important here as well as later****). Also goes into Sachi’s relationship with her best friends (Bianca/Bia (she), who she was probably in love with [or was she?] and Trey (he)), her twin, lying pathologically to all the adults in her life, her anger issues, and more.

Daiken has the experience of being the eldest child forced to look after his siblings while work alongside his father on missions and meeting people as well as maintain his grades to escape to medical school and a better future. He’s a lil parentified. Lol.

Two: Daiken as a Six (2013-2018)

Trigger warning for child death in this one.

The struggles that Daiken experienced before escaping his father at 18 (when he got arrested). This mainly focuses on how Brii is his narrative foil as well as goes into more detail on the missions he went on with LS and Jacob and Jamie and Azz. When Daiken was 14, he was going through his father’s computer, and accidentally discovers that Jamie had died a few weeks prior, at only 13. This devastates him, and while he was already against the work he was forced into, the circumstances of Jamie’s death (at the hands of one of Jamie’s father’s employees in the mob, used brutally as a human shield), radicalizes him, and he ends up toe-to-toe with the ever-loyal Brii. Brii is like Daiken but her father actually loves her deeply and manipulates/abuses her differently. Years later, Maze (who Brii was secretly in love with) dies at 19, protecting Brii on a mission, and while this would have radicalized Daiken, this only further cements in Brii’s eyes that what they are doing is the way to keep the most people safe. This story is really interesting and nuanced in a lot of ways.

Three: To Grow Again (TGA)/After (2019-)

The story of Sachi and her siblings’ lives after they’re taken out of their father’s custody and transferred into Daiken’s care a few months later. Mostly a story of healing and setbacks as Sachi experiences loss, works through trauma, adjusts to a new way of life, and also forms close bonds with the IL. This is the Good Ending

An AU of this: Daiken becomes a teen dad and shares custody of his daughter Aika with her mom. This is mostly fluffy slice of life stuff and isn’t canon to anything.

Another AU of this: I like to play with a roleswap/reverse siblings so that everyone is backward in age. I haven't played with this concept as much so feel free to ask more abt this.

Four: The Dimension Girls (2020-)

Eventually I got bored of the happily ever after stuff so I gave Sachi the power to travel between dimensions and made her a guardian of the planet Earth. I have a lot of lore I’m still working on (ATSV gave me so many good ideas, but also hey I already had the ‘anomaly’ concept!) but I’ve tried to distinguish between dimensions, universes, and smaller changes in dimensions. That’s a different post.

Sachi and two other girls****, Allison (Aussie, she/they, 19) and Imogen (Irish, she/her, 16) are meant to help dimensional anomalies, act as ambassadors to other dimensions, and protect the dimension from threats. I used the concept of the 5 senses, where Allison is sight, Sachi is hearing, and Imogen is taste (which I decided includes gasses/the lungs). There are 5 senses, obviously, but I decided that the other 2 girls haven’t activated their powers yet, so right now, Sachi’s Earth doesn’t have all of its guardians, making the burden greater on the three. Not every dimension uses the 5 senses in their powers, or even has the same rules for picking guardians. In this dimension, the guardian powers are passed through the girl in the bloodline (trans-inclusive! Which is why none of the others can be transfemme and Sachi can’t be transmasc lol) until there isn’t one, then it jumps to a new family. There’s some fun horror where these senses sometimes cross over and they can experience things from other dimensions (phantom hearing, vision, smoke in Im’s lungs, etc). There’s also this mirror dimension where they go and blah blah I don’t feel like explaining.

I love doing crossovers so when I do those I just make it a dimensional thing. I tried staying away from the ‘fantasy structure is just a bureaucracy hierarchy’ concept because I hate it, but there are also beings with more power, like Cosmic/Cozy who is an inter-dimensional higher being who steps in when situations get dire. Pronouns pending because I can’t decide between they/them and he/she so y’all can help me out with that as well.

An AU of this: Sachi also gets stuck in timeloops sometimes, caused by her powers somehow. I have fun with it. This one is more canon than the other AU I have, and I headcanon that she wears a watch that beeps at 11:50 pm and again at midnight because when she loops it’s always at midnight, and she can get her bearings at 11:50 pm so that if she ends up looping, she’s somewhere safe and can remember what she was doing at the time to avoid suspicion of the others. It’s a vibe.

Another AU of this: Sachi keeps getting dreams of treading water in an endless ocean as her mother calls out to her and tells her it’s okay + something ominous about where to find her/info about her death. Every time Sachi wakes up, water materializes out of nowhere and she awakens drenched and exhausted, a pool of water around her. This period of time would be either on and off for a few months or for a few weeks straight. She sets an alarm for every 20 minutes so that when she sleeps, she never starts dreaming. She’s constantly exhausted and is living hell for this period of time until the dreams stop.

I think that’s all of the information about my OCs and To Grow Again, the name I picked for their story. This was a lonnggggg post so I will not be surprised if no one reads this. If you made it this far and read most of it, leave a goat emoji in the replies <3. Thank you for letting me rant Catla!!!!! Hope you all enjoyed lol. There is so much information still in my brain, resting, that I have not released yet, so if you have any questions, please hmu with an ask!!! I am obsessed and will respond.

peace ✌️

#nova talks #ask #oc tag #tga #nova's lore #adding copious tags so i can find this later

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leorawright · 4 months

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hiii can i get a romantic genshin matchup please ☺️💖

she/her, heterosexual, taurus, estj, neutral good.

i’m very outgoing and extremely extroverted like my friends say. i’m the type of person that is always talking 😭 if you put me in a room with a stranger, the chances are extremely high that i end up befriending them (unless i feel like they don’t want to talk). but i get bad days too like other people and sometimes i just shut down and won’t talk unless spoken to.

while i am friendly, i also keep my circle small. i don’t have the ability to maintain a thousand of friendships so i have only a handful of friends that i am reallllyyyy close to.

i am very emotional and have the worst case of fomo. when i see my friends hanging out without me, i immediately feel like it’s the end of the world which is stupid and currently trying to resolve that. the way i cope is usually joining whatever org i can which makes me an extremely busy person at times.

i don’t get mad at people very often (i am easily annoyed though) and when i’m mad, i easily forgive but i /never/ forget.

i love discovering new music but my current favorite artists are phoebe bridgers and haim. i have a short-ass attention span when it comes to series and it’s been forever since i finished one. i’m more of a casual viewer, so i like movies better (especially romcoms)

what i don’t like is people who are extremely judgy and only see people negatively. it’s a pet peeve of mine when people are so quick to judge. i also hateeeee liver (although my mom encourages me to eat it bc i have iron deficiency…) but i love eating a mix of vegetables.

i’m a hopeless romantic by the way! i genuinely think that i won’t ever settle for any other than the tender and sweet kind of love. my love language are acts of service and quality time. i also really appreciate if someone listens to my ramblings tirelessly.

one of the things that i look for a partner is that he’s an active member of the community like me; it helps me see if he’s truly responsible. i also want him to care about his studies as much as i do and he should have a set goal in life. i want someone to have a direction in life, and knows that we shouldn’t be each other’s ONLY priorities.

i love to read fantasy and historical books. i also write whenever i’m on the mood and have time. one of my current obsessions is lord of the rings (which is weird bc i alr went thru an lotr phase when i was like… 6) AND I HAVE A PUPPY 🥹 i love her sm she’s so cute!!! i adore her sm and we spend time together through sitting on the floor and her laying her head on me 😭🥹

thank you smmm have a great day and take care of yourself 💖

I had a lot of choices but I've decided on...

Gaming!

He's definitely an active member in the community and gets along with about everybody

He's got a goal with wanting to become a Wushu dancer and he'd be delighted if you support his passion

He also supports your goals in life, and whatever you want to do, he'll help as best he can

His love language is acts of service so whatever you need help with, just tell him and he'll be at your side

He's not usually much of a reader, but if you have any suggestions, he'll happily read them and talk about them with you

Absolutely adores your dog as well and will sneak her treats all the time

#matchups #gaming x reader

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netherfeildren · 4 months

Note

hi sweet vic!

i’ve spent the last few months reading and then re-reading all your fics and the word that stands out in my mind is intoxicating; there’s something about them that incites an almost visceral reaction. the themes you include, the way you describe things such as motherhood, both the deep-seated desire to have a child and the rocky and fractured relationships between some of your reader characters and their mothers, their fathers, too, and the overwhelming want to be looked after by someone stronger when life becomes too much is something that i think is deeply relatable to a lot of women. this, i feel, is one of the many reasons i find myself gravitating towards your work, other women too, i’m sure, for it creates a sort of safe space where we can freely admit: yes, life can be hard and terrible and all too much and sometimes it makes you feel very small. and sometimes all you want is to be allowed to be small, and have someone bigger and wiser who’s there to look after you.

whenever i read fics or write them myself i always procrastinate the endings because i find they bring with them an emptiness that i rush to fill up with something else, do you feel this too? a handful of your works come to mind, such as pink or i urge you: bite me, wherein we never find out exactly what becomes of them or what their futures look like. do you spend a lot of time after you finish writing hung up, imagining what would come after, or are you more content to leave them in your head as they are, suspended in that moment in time?

what can I even say to this that would be sufficient to return such kindness? I literally have no idea which is why I've just sat and stared all all you've written to me over the past several days.

it brings into incredible clarity that our words mean so much, the things we say, the intention or lack thereof behind them have consequences, good or bad. I haven't been able to write for days. I look at the honey, stomach, mine doc and I feel.. not great about it. embarrassed, in a way. so I've read your message like a hundred times by now to counteract that. thank you, like for real and from the bottom of my heart. you're so so kind and your words have meaning and I'm going to think about what you've said and how you've said you feel about the things I write for a long time, and you've sent them to me in a moment when I really, really needed them.

parenthood is something I touch on more than anything, you're right. Joel is a parent in my eyes before he's anything else, that vein of him is the thing I find most intriguing. and to be honest, someone's wife is my most shocking piece to me personally because if a person could be all the things they should and can, that's how my own mom is. Eva's character is something I derived, I think, in total opposition to what I see Joel and my mom like. however, my own personal relationship and history with motherhood and pregnancy, is very different, complicated. the things I write about and the obsessiveness I write about them with have personal origin, no matter how unseriously they're framed lol. and I think, or I hope, that despite the fact that I'm writing from a woman's perspective that it's all universal or human enough that anyone can relate to it.

as for the endings, I wouldn't necessarily say I struggle with getting to them, per se. I usually know how they'll end when I start writing which is probably due to the fact that I think for much longer than I actually write. I plot and take notes for months usually, and when I'm finally ready to sit down and write my mind is made up, and usually once I've made up my mind it doesn't really stray (I'm an aquarius - oops). pink, for instance, was built with that specific ending as my goal. that was the challenge I set for myself and everything that happened in the running there was with that specific ending in mind. so to answer your question, no I don't think about the aftermath at all in terms of what could have been or what could not - I leave that all to you and your fun. I think my issue lies more with my ability to pick up the pen again after I've finished a big thing. pink was the worst, I felt very depleted and like I had nothing left to say after it and despite having a long list of ideas, I felt like there were no words for them. I usually have to wait a while for the well to refill before I can pick something new up and start writing again.

#vic replies

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wondero28 · 1 year

Text

Taking a Bath w/ 4*Town

Ok so like- nothing super spicy (spicy=nsfw) happens, but its a set of imagines where you’re getting in a tub with a young adult man-whos in a boyband- whos usually pretty pent up with stress - SOME THINGS ARE GOING TO BE A LITTLE SUGGESTIVE IM SORRY

Anyway this was a lot of fun to write ✨

Current Me Notes: posting this one earlier because it was one of my most well received posts. Bless the original person who requested this gem

————

Robaire

- So I’m not going to lie, bathing or showering with Robaire PROBABLY isnt new if you both have been together for awhile. Baths are one of his favorite ways to relax with you & he will have no shame sitting with you in a tub for an hour just listening to you talk. You can talk about anything too- he’ll just listen and smile and hold your hand! He gives it little kisses every so often just to make you grin

- And unless you set up the bath- he’s going to make a nice hot water bath with one of his expensive ass bath bombs (and hey if you want to choose- you can! He definitely has ones w/ stuff like jewlery inside, you always get to keep whatever comes out). I imagine a lot of his bath bombs smell like mints or coffees, they’re strong so he’s not really offended if you dont want one. He will go out & get ones of smells you like though- just for you and him to use together

- But baths with Robaire are ✨relaxing✨ anytime. Depending on where he’s situated in the tub, he’ll be rubbing either your back & arms or your chest & shoulders. He’s very determined to get you to loosen up in the bath. If you refuse to then he’s going to bury you with kisses ok your jaw, neck, & shoulders while he grumbles about how you deserve rest (and the world. He’s a simp). He’s also definitely going to serenade you from time to time, him & T share this trait & it’s precious. He’ll make up a little tune anout the both of you in a bath

- He’s surprisingly not all that flirty or dirty minded in the bath, even if you get playful he’ll still have his goal of getting you to relax. Though- how you choose to ‘relax’ can completely be up to you as long as you ask him 👀

- And now while he’s very level headed & suave in the tub after a bit, when you both first took a bath together to ‘relax’??? He was a fucking mess. It doesn’t matter if he’s seen your body before, the mans face was heated and full of blush. And when the both of you were against each other in the tub?? He could not for the life of him look you in the eye. He was so fucking shy & blown away by how absolutely wonderful you looked. He’s too flustered to tell you that though- you’ll probably have to bring him back down to earth with kisses or a thump to the head

- Also im just going to say there’s no way the two of you actually like ‘relaxed’ the first time y’all bathed together. He is a very basic man who loves his absolutely stellar S/O & he will apologize profusely for anything that happens under the water (👀)

- No but really Robaire is a man of service. Relaxing baths with him are great, he probably wants to do them often with you to take off his own stress (hold him- please he needs it). After the bath he’ll always help you dry off & get dressed if you let him. You both probably smell like vanilla or lavender from the bath bomb

- He’s a very wholesome person for his lover in the bath, he does whatever he can & is really just a sweetheart overall

————

Jesse

- ok so like- anytime you ask to bathe with Jesse he just gets a big cocky grin on his face. He probably makes some kind of teasing remark like “oh you want to ‘relax’ with me in the tub huh? Suuuurreee”. Just smack him- honestly. He has no problem bathing with you but do understand you’ll need to yank his mind out of the gutter

- It’s not even that he’s necessarily a perv or anything, he just sees bathing together as a VERY intimate activity. Just as intimate as other bedroom activities 👀. But if you’re really stressed & just need some time with him? He’ll do his best

- Jesse doesn’t mind setting the bath up, he likes the water to be really fucking hot though so unless you’re ready to step into steaming bubbly water you need to watch him & make sure he doesn’t boil you. And speaking of bubbles, jesse has some of the best & weirdest body wash? It works amazingly & smells like the freshness of nature but it bubbles up insanely (and he 100% lets you give him a bubble mohawk)

- Baths with Jesse are… playful to say the least. Even if you’re in need of relaxing he’ll be trying to find ways to get you riled up & giggly unless you tell him no. He ALWAYS insists on sitting behind you too, even if you’re bigger. He wants you to lean back on him so he can rub your chest & stomach (also he probably playfully pinches you to keep your attention, im sorry but i cannot view him as anything other then a little teasing shit). And if course he isn’t opposed to giving you a massage- he’s good with his hands afterall! The only issue is that Jesse is VERY strong, and he can be a bit rough on accident so you need to tell him if he’s being too much

- Otherwise baths with Jesse are flirty & sweet. He makes bad puns & every time you groan or whine at how bad it is he’ll just kiss your shoulder (honestly he’s also probably bitten you before just to get a reaction). But really he’s going to be flooding you with mildly inappropriate compliments about how good you look or how nice it feels having you wrapped up in his arms. And if you’re genuinely still upset he will talk it out with you & drop the flirty persona

- So Jesse is confident in his body, he thinks hes pretty afterall✨ but you?? You he thinks is better then the entire fucking world. So when you asked him to bathe with you the first time he just- he stopped working. Jesse straight up froze & just looked at you for a long time. When he finally processed what you said, his face & ears went pink with blush and a smile crept onto his face. Even if he’s seen your body before- like i said he sees bathing together as very intimate. So he’s IMMEDIATELY excited. You’ll have to explain its JUST for laying around and relaxing, he’ll be a little deflated but it wont take long for him to get back on his bullshit & make you as flustered as possible. Seeing you in the bath w: bubbles just makes Jesse go feral (im sorry) so a lot of the first bath with Jesse was him lowkey trying to feel you up with loving back & shoulder rubs (accompanied by kisses ofc)

- After baths he makes sure you don’t slip & die or anything- don’t let him dry you though. That always turns into something else (im so sorry again)

- Overall- hes sweet. Loving- a little TOO loving for certain things, but he’s good & well behaved when you tell him to be

- Also i want to point out- i dont think jesse is OFTEN such a feral horndog- i think baths are just a thing for him

————

Tae Young

- His face & ears are red. Doesn’t matter if you guys do it every day or once a year. The guy is red. He cannot help it. You are simply too perfect & amazing looking in the tub. Tae isn’t even always embarrassed or surprised, his face just heats up at the idea of a bath with you

- Similarly to Jesse- Tae views bathing together a very intimate task! And he’s like, super honored that you EVER want to do that with him. He’ll be sure to be extra careful and loving! But truthfully until you guys have tried it a few times- Tae isn’t really going to know what to do

- He’s willing to run the bath but he’s going to ask you a lot of specifics about how you want it. He’s a bit indecisive & honestly probably prefers showers over baths (he wont say that though- he doesn’t want to discourage you). If you tell him you don’t care or want him to surprise you though?? He’s gonna run a small warm bath, toss a bath bomb in that smells like flowers, and probably light a candle to accompany it

- In the bath with you he’s a bit bashful at first, he’s never sure if he should sit in front of you or behind you but once he’s situated & starts to unwind with you his more playful nature will come out. Tae Young is by no means perverted in the bath but- he’s not exactly innocent. He’ll be covering your face or shoulders in gentle kisses, telling you how much he’s enjoying the bath- but every so often he’ll just randomly mumble something about wanting to do ‘more’ after the bath. It always throws you for a fucking loop too, there will be absolutely no fucking warning for it. One second he babbles about how beautiful your eyes are & the next he mumbles about how good you sound when- [redacted]

- Aside from these little comments though, Tae is sweet in the tub. He’ll offer to try & give you a massage or he’ll listen & talk you through your stress while the both of you lay around together. He doesn’t mind helping you clean up or even letting you wash him up. He just is happy to share this time with you (and you’ve found that if you give Tae enough little kisses in the bath his face starts to cool down & remove the blush because you help him unwind)

- The first time you ask him to do something like this you swear he started squealing like a boiling tea kettle. He’ll deny it but it’s exactly what happened. He’d probably flood you with questions about it like: bathe together? Us??? Like you and me? Why? Do you need help? Is something wrong? Are you having a hard time?? Do we need to schedule a doctors appo- you’re going to have to cut him off. He doesn’t mean to pry its just such a surprising request for him! He wasn’t expecting it, even if the two of you had been together for awhile. If the questions discourage you- he’ll quickly back himself up & just drag you to the bathroom with a red face & ears. The first bath was a littke awkward at first & involved a lot of tae overcoming bashfulness, but by the end of it he was definitely giving you shy & hopeful kisses in the tub ✨

- And if course Tae Young is a gentleman so he always offers to help you dry off & get your clothes for you if you need (or just help you get dressed if you ask) after you’re both out & dry Tae is the cuddliest & most loving thing ever. Baths always help him feed connected to you & he loves it

- Overall baths with Tae Young are wholesome, hes a bit shy at first but it gets easier as it happens more often

————

Aaron T

- When you ask to bathe with T there are 2 ways this might go- Option 1: He’s super fucking excited & bolts off to go start the bath (which you need to watch him & make sure he doesn’t use too many fucking bubbles) or Option 2: He’s going to be like ‘oh thank fuck you asked’ because he’s ALSO in need of some relaxing & is too worried about bringing it up

- T sees bathing together as a super casual thing, no one is sure why or when he developed this idea- but the both of you definitely do this often. He’s probably a bigger fan of showers but he says he loves the bath cause he gets to be your ‘bubble bestie’ (he definitely gives you a bubble mohawk or bubble horns- you cannot stop him)

- T always wants to run the bath, he likes getting to do stuff for you. So even if he’s tired he’ll get up & go wander to the bathroom to start everything up if given the chance. When he’s excited he uses a bubbly body wash that smells like sweets & bubblegum- but when he’s more tired he prefers using a bath bomb that smells like honey or flowers & makes the water shimmery (he loves running his hands through water & watching its shimmers swoosh around)

- Surprisingly T isn’t actually too dirty minded in the bath. He’s playful sometimes sure- but if you said you wanted to relax then your man is gonna help you relax. He insists you sit in front of him in the tub so he can rub & scrub your back & shoulders (hot take but T is a big fan of skin care & will rub skin washes on you that make you extra soft & smell nice). He’s also probably a big fan of scrubbing your scalp & washing up hair (if you’ve not really got hair- he’s still massaging your scalp uvu) But honestly- if its a bath time when T is upset & stressed?? You can probably fight him & get him to sit in front of you. He needs it & really enjoys it. If you scrub his scalp & hair then he will be eternally grateful & will make it up to you with kisses & lovings later

- Bonus: T loves singing in the bathroom, he will serenade you! Unlike Robaire though, T actually just straight up sings songs (not random tunes). His voice is deep & its pleasant. He doesn’t mind if you doze off for a few minutes, he’ll wake you up

- T is generally pretty good in baths though, like i said he views it very casually & thinks its just fun to do. If he’s ever in a ✨spicy✨ mood then it becomes abundantly clear when he’s with you in the bath (the only dumbass to challenge Jesse in flirting skills is T & i stand by that). So if he’s in one of these moods you’re going to be in for a very teasing filled time with pinches & gropes and your side (respectfully ofc- he’ll stop if you tell him to)

- T offers to help dry off too- he wont try to force it or anything, not unless you’re hurting. (And if you are then he’s super sweet & loving) But be warned, if T helps you dry off & get dressed while he’s in a good mood & all is fine?? Then you’re taking a risk. Because no matter how strong the both of your loves may be for one another- T is by no means above popping you in the ass with a towel. The other bandmates have spoken of such horrifying events between T & themselves- and AARON T IS FUCKING MERCILESS. But if you can pop him back✨ it gets him so excited & riled up- his smiles & laughs for when you fight back are absolutely to die for

- Now the first time the both of you do actually bathe together- you can watch T’s face light up & hear in his voice how excited he was to do it. His cheeks are dusted with a bit of pink from it but overall he’s absolutely hyped to bathe with you! And if you’re tired and worn down from a bad day- he’ll try to tone it down. He’ll cup your face in his hands & cover you with kisses. And when the both of you are actually in the bath together for the first time- he’s an absolute snuggle bug. He’s giving you kisses and telling you how wonderful you are all while making little remarks about how you’re just too good for the world

- Overall?? T is good for baths. He’s loving & pretty chilled out in comparison to some of the other boys. He could probably be a little less silly but yknow- jokes are a part of the Aaron T package deal

————

Aaron Z

- We all know Z is a protective simp & absolutely adores you. Taking a bath with him carries on those same vibes. And im not going to lie- it’s probably VERY VERY unlikely he actually takes a bath with you. I can’t really see you getting him to sit in a tub with you & relax, he just infinitely prefers showers. SO THATS WHAT WE GET FOR HIS

- But yknow- just in case you absolutely NEED a bath with him- you can run your hand up the side of his arm slowly & just ask real nice & sweet. He’ll fucking melt & have to agree. Its awkward but- he’ll grumble and do a bath with you. He’s a bit too big (in his mind) to sit in a tub so he’s uncomfortable but he’ll try his best for you & just focus on smothering you with love

- ONTO THE SHOWER STUFF THOUGH! He has no problem taking showers with you. He’ll start everything up & get into the shower first to make sure its the right temperature for you- he refuses to let you ‘risk burning’ yourself because his water gets fucking HOT. (Also he always wants to use his own shower smh) It always makes him blush seeing you step in with him though- no matter how many times hes seen your body he’s absolutely blown away by how perfect you look to him

- Also you’re always in front of him. Doesn’t matter how big you are, he wants you to have the hot water hitting you so you dont get cold (he’s too fucking kind). That being said though- he gets cold so he’s going to be keeping close to you. The shower could be giant but he’s going to be pressed against you no matter what. Its hardly ever in a perverted sense, he’s just very loving when he’s touching you. He’ll be running his hands up & down your hips to try & soothe you! He’ll leave kisses on your shoulder and just give the sweetest hugs at random in the shower. He’s not always sure what to do to help you unwind but he’s willing to try whatever

- On the rare occasion he gets frisky in the shower, he’ll tease you with pinches on your thighs & hips. Nothing too hard- just something to annoy you & rile you up a bit. He also offers massages WHICH ISNT SOMETHING HE TENDS TO DO IF YOU DONT ASK- OTHERWISE HE WANTS SOMETHING. Its a dead give away to a frisky Z & you can do whatever you want with that info (and if you ever want to knock him off his game- just start doing the same shit back. Put your hands on his hips & gently rub his sides & watch him fucking crumble). This is all of course- all only done if he sees you aren’t too upset or distressed.

- Also— the first time you ask him to shower with you, you could swear you heard a record scratch. He immediately freezes & a blush slowly creeps its way onto his cheeks. He’s going to forget how to speak- so he’ll be kind of staring at you slack jawed & surprised. You’ll need to snap him out of it. But your loving simp wastes no time in agreeing & offering to go start everything up. And let me tell you- Z FUCKING BROKE WHEN YOU STEPPED INTO THE SHOWER WITH HIM FOR THE FIRST TIME. Deadass he had to turn and look away & collect himself. Even if it wasn’t his first time seeing you in all your glory the man absolutely melts into a bashful mess upon seeing you in the shower under the water & steam. You’ll need to help him warm up to the concept of the both of you in the shower (the loving Z for most of this is definitely only the way he is after a few showers together). He’s your sweet loving & protective boyfriend! But he thinks you’re perfect- too perfect sometimes- and it overwhelms his little simp heart & he just doesn’t know what to do

- And as you’d expect Z does like to help you dry off & get dressed. He will waddle out of the shower early even- just to go toss your clothes in the dryer for a few minutes to heat them up & bring them back for you. He’ll have goosebumps by the time he’s back so please also help him dry off & get snuggled up in warm clothes

- overall- Z is a horrible guy for baths but GREAT for showers. You really wont be seeing him sit in a tub often, you can try though

#4town aaron z #4town aaron t #4town taeyoung #4town jesse #4town robaire #4town #4townie #4town x reader #4town imagine #4town imagines #Wondero Reposted

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theycallme-thejackal · 2 years

Note

Lenny throws his arms around midge and cries or something. Idk Jackal I’m in mood today… even if you want to ignore the prompt completely I just love when you write shit bc it’s ALWAYS amazing❤️

Pairing: Lenny Bruce & Midge Maisel Rated T

He rushes into the building.

All he heard from Abe on the phone was Miriam and hospital, and he raced out of his apartment and jumped in a cab. Now he’s here, in a place he didn’t expect to be in unless he pissed someone off at a show or one of his many vices finally caught up with him.

He rushes down the halls, frantically searching for someone he recognizes.

She has to be fine. She has to be.

He turns a corner and spots Abe, gesturing frantically to his wife. He knows she’s named for a flower...Lily or Petunia or -

“Rose!”

Right, Rose.

Lenny strides down the hallway toward the couple, and then Abe spots him. “Lenny!” He greets, continuing with his frenetic gestures. “Thank you for coming. You’re the only one who can talk sense into her - ”

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of my daughter, thank you very much,” Rose interrupts.

“Yes, but Rose, if it were two years ago, we would have called Joel. Lenny is obviously the best person to talk some sense into her in the present.”

Lenny’s head is spinning. He’s not too keen on being compared to Midge’s ex, but if it means he gets a call when she winds up in the hospital then he’s not going to think too hard about it. “What happened?” He asks.

Rose huffs out a sigh. “She fainted. At one of her comedy shows.” Lenny doesn’t miss the disdain in her voice “She apparently finished her act, and as soon as she stepped off stage, she collapsed into Susie’s arms.”

“Is she okay?” He asks, still panicked.

“She’s resting, but the doctors say she’s dehydrated and exhausted,” Abe explains. “We’ve seen less and less of her in the last couple of months. She’s only ever home to spend time with the children. She has been working nonstop, and I thought - ”

Lenny doesn’t let him finish the thought before he strides into Midge’s room.

She’s lying there, asleep, various tubes hooked up to her, and Susie is sitting on the other side of the bed, face planted next to Midge’s hip as she snores viciously. Well that isn’t a surprise, he thinks as he moves toward the bed.

She’s thinner than the last time he saw her - a feat since she’s already tiny - and he starts to put the pieces together. Midge is an all-or-nothing kind of broad. She gets hyper focused on the goal. That’s why she stopped taking opening acts. It’s why she’s a constant flurry of energy. Abe said she’s been working constantly.

Lenny feels a twisting in his gut that this is his fault.

He sits gently next to her hip on the opposite side from Susie and takes Midge’s hand in his. Her hands are cold, but that’s not out of the ordinary. That night in his hotel room, he’d twitched the first time her hand found his skin, and he’d teased her about it for a minute before she finally landed on the bed.

Her eyes start to flutter open, and he holds his breath, worried that the slightest movement will stop her from waking up. She finally does, though. Blue eyes open, and she’s looking at him in confusion (and what he hopes is a little joy). “Lenny?”

He huffs a sigh, squeezing her hand. “Abe called,” he explains. “Shit, Midge, what happened?”

“I - ” She swallows as she looks up at him, and her mind is clearly still foggy. “I was doing my set,” she recalls. “And it went great. I went backstage, and...”

“You passed out,” he finishes, stroking her hand with his thumb. “Your mother said Susie stopped you from making out with the floor.”

She laughs a little before pressing the palm of her free hand to her forehead. “I, um...I’ve been working.”

“Yeah, that’s what I hear,” he replies. “Maybe working a little too much?”

Her brows furrow in complete confusion. “You’re the one who told me I needed to work.”

“I know,” he sighs. “But...for fuck’s sake, Midge, when was the last time you ate?”

She averts her gaze. “I had a salad at lunch.”

“And water? When was the last time you hydrated?”

“This...well I think yester - um...” He watches as she tries to remember but comes up empty.

“You’re working too hard, sweetheart,” he tells her gently.

“You’re the one who told me to work,” she repeats, a little angrily this time.

“Yeah, but you’ve still gotta take care of yourself, Midge. Christ, you can’t work from a hospital bed!”

Susie stirs then, grumbling a little as she sits up, “Oh, good. You’re awake.” Then she sees Lenny. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Abe called me,” he answers. “So here I am.”

“I’m okay, Susie,” Midge promises. “Why don’t you go get some coffee?”

“You’re not gonna fuck him while I’m gone, are you?”

Midge’s face turns beet red, and she averts her eyes downward, tugging her hand from Lenny’s grasp so she can fold her arms over her chest, but she hisses as one of her IVs pinches. She folds her hands in her lap instead. “No,” she huffs. “Considering I’m hooked up to a bunch of tubes and my parents are sitting outside and also he doesn’t want to - ”

“I don’t?” He sputters before he can stop himself.

“No, you don’t,” she replies pointedly.

Susie looks between them awkwardly. “Uh...yeah I’m gonna go get some coffee,” she mutters before leaving. Lenny hears her add “And a lobotomy” as she exits the room.

“So...you told Susie,” he comments.

“I told Susie,” she confirms without looking at him.

“Okay...um...”

“Where have you been, Lenny?” She breathes, and he looks at her in surprise. “I’ve been working constantly. I’ve been doing really well. And I’ve heard nothing from you.”

“I...was giving you space,” he tells her.

“Why?” She asks, her brow furrowed.

“Well...I yelled at you,” he replies. “I thought - ”

“You gave me a kick in the ass I desperately needed and then ignored me for two months.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, whinier than he means to. “I fucked up.”

She sighs, her anger deflating a little at his apology. It’s amazing to him that a simple apology seems to melt her so easily, and it makes him think that there haven’t been many people in her life willing to apologize to her. “Yes, you did,” she says softly. Then she surprises him by taking his hand in hers again. “I missed you,” she whispers.

He squeezes her hand gently. “I missed you too, Midge.”

She smiles at him a little weakly, clearly still exhausted. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He nods. “Midge, what you said earlier...about me not wanting to - ” He swallows thickly. “You know that’s not true, right?”

She averts her gaze toward her lap, and he continues his voice low, “If you weren’t severely dehydrated and on the verge of falling asleep any second now, I’d strip down right now.”

She giggles quietly, her eyelids drooping. “Maybe...when I’m back to normal, we could...date?” She asks.

He grins softly and leans in, kissing her forehead sweetly. “I’d like that.”

#midgelenny #midge x lenny #midgexlenny #tmmm fanfic #marvelous mrs. maisel fanfic #writing prompt #otp: more important than god #jackal fics #answers

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