#me: um i KNOW how this sort of thing WORKS thanks I have installed it MANY TIMES this one is just garbage

[carionto]

The duality of Man, or triality? quadrality?

Alien to Human about New Human: Correct me if I'm wrong, but they appear abnormally large for your species?

H: Yea, he's a biggun alright, even without the EV suit I'd say... 7'3'', 310 pounds, bet he power lifts.

A: Umm... not to be rude, but, uhh... he seems, well... how should I put this...

H: Intimidating? Terrifying? Evil? Yea, if this station didn't have high screening standards I'd be totally pissing myself if he started walking towards me. The mohawk and eye tat totally make me believe he could snap me in two with a single glare.

A: I feel ashamed that my instincts are telling me to flee. I wish nature were easier to change.

H (shouting at NH): Hey buddy! Could you come over here for a minute please? You look awesome by the way!

A (whispering nervously): what are you doing?!?

H: Gotta overcome those fears somehow, I believe the best way is a direct confrontation.

NH approaches, somewhat slowly, looking around at all the other aliens in the station that are chatting, waiting around, or doing some work. He finally approaches A and H, and in a very deep and husky voice says: Um, hi, hello. T-thanks for the compliment, I, uh, was a little worried I would stand out too much here.

H: Oh you totally do, my friend over here is practically about to pass out from how much like a gothic viking of death metal you look.

NH: Oh no, I'm so sorry, I-I just grew up in Sweden-Delta and both my parents were huge into classic local music, so I just, uh... it's complicated. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare anyone.

H: Hey, relax pal, we're all good people here. Anyway, what you here to do? I'm planning on starting a bakery, still testing out what kind of flour most species here can actually stomach. My friend here is on the team working on Moon theft preventative measures.

NH: Oh, that's cool. I'm here as an exchange student with the department of applied astrophysics. If all goes well, I can finish my Bachelors degree remotely and stay here as an intern with the head researcher.

H: Oooh, that's cool. (so cool yea that you're apparently half my age but oh well guess I'm a big fat time waster like my father before me and oh god change the subject before I get depressed in front of strangers) That's a real big bag you got there, carrying some super secret science things, eh?

NH: Oh, that... uhh... guess it can't hurt to tell, security vetted it already anyway.

NH proceeds to unzip the bag and hold up a large white piece of clothing with light blue rings and accents, alongside a strange white cap with what looked like small fins, and a curious little backpack.

NH: It's uhh... um... my... Ika... musume... cosplay.... (oh gods I can't believe I said it out loud again)

After a moment of awkward silence, NH slowly puts on the backpack and presses a button on it's strap, and suddenly numerous light blue colored tentacle-like appendages sprout out from the backpack and move in line with NH's movements.

NH: I, uh..., got my engineering friend to make them articulate and interface with my contacts. I can make them do all sorts of things, like make various shapes and animals with them, though works best as a shadow theater.

H:...

NH:...

A now frozen out of confusion than fear:...

H: That's so

NH: (oh I know it's so lame, but I love that show)-

H: COOL! I don't know what a ika musume is, but those things look amazing. You said articulate? How precise can they be? I'd love to have something like that instead of my useless assistant. Poor lad can't make a piece of toast if his life depended on it...

NH: Y-you like it?

H: I LOVE those things. My daughter does cosplay too sometimes, but she makes her Dreadnought suits herself from scraps. One time the military came to our house and installed a limiter on the gauss cannon she found in a crash site, said it would otherwise start to generate small doses of radiation if used too frequently. But she replaced it with a handmade rail gun before the next convention. Do you go to those? Did you see a 7 meter tall hulking metal monstrosity with a bunch of candles all over? That was her.

NH: Oh, I think I've seen video of that, but no, not in person, I go to smaller events. I don't really like big crowds.

H: Oh yea, I get ya, you do seem a bit on the shy side now that we've been talking for a bit. Hey, no worries, like I said, we're all good people here.

NH: T-thanks, but I think I should be going now, the teacher is calling me over.

H: Oh yea, go ahead, didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Have a fun stay and I'm sure you'll ace that paper or theory? Or whatever astrophysicists do, you seem like a solid kid.

NH: Oh, uh, thanks. Good luck with your bakery. And you with stopping those weird people from stealing more moons. Bye.

H: Bye bye, come visit, don't be a stranger now, I'm set up just a short bit from the main lift on floor 14.

NH: R-right, I'll, uh, be sure to stop by soon.

A is finally able to process what they just heard and says: What was all that just now?

H: What? Just a friendly chat with what is apparently basically a kid. Man, this kid's got so much going on, while I'm almost 50 and I have an oven. Life, man, it can go in so many ways. Anyway, let's go grab a drink, I'm parched.

#humans are space australians #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #carionto #story #I intended to quickly write some silly dialogue again #and yet #somehow words kept happening again and now we have a #long post #and it's 1:30 at night #oh well #words won't write themselves #at least not well #I bet an AI couldn't make my kind of nonsense #AI isn't as chaotic as my brain #and it wants to generally follow existing best practices and common formats #well I say fuck that #I'm just a means to transfer what my brain spits out into reality

[thehaemanthus]

tangled cable car wires (3/3)

It’s still July 23 where I’m at! 

Delighted to present the final chapter of this fic for the ACOTAR Writing Circle, organized by @azrielshadowssing. Had so much fun doing this event, and learned that I can write passable smut on demand if needed (though I think the readers will be the final judge of that). 

Thank you to @thelovelymadone and @bennylavasbuns​ for setting me up for success with your previous chapters! I hope this last chapter is a happy, sweet, sexy, and most of all funny ending because I can’t hear someone is six foot five inches without shaking my fist at the sky at the inconvenience of living next to such a height

Enjoy!

Elain was soaking wet, exhausted, out 50 bucks because she stupidly hopped into a taxi to escape her nemesis, and, oh yeah, really fucking horny.

She dumped her things just inside the door to her apartment, stripping her clothing there too before hustling to the washing machine. The wet pile of clothes landed on top with a splat.

Getting settled at home kept her mind off of other things. Elain had planned to get some take out, watch a movie or two, light a scented candle and maybe even take a bath. Now she had to start a load of laundry, dry off her work bag and pray nothing was too damaged, take a shower, then make her own dinner.

Not a very auspicious start to her coveted staycation, but maybe she could still fit in the bath. And relax. Relaxation only. No errant thoughts about an inconvenient tall, tanned, red-headed menace who apparently liked her—

Nope! No thoughts about his hands on her ass or the way he had felt between her legs. Strictly off limits.

Maybe she would pen in an appointment with her vibrator after a bubble bath. Orgasms were relaxing, right?

Elain eyed her phone, suspiciously silent after texting her sisters. They had nothing productive to say about her momentary lapse in judgment. Elain had needed to tell someone, feeling like it was a secret burning her throat. The cab driver hadn’t been an option, but maybe telling Feyre that her son’s godfather nearly fucked her in an elevator wasn’t the smartest thing.

But what else was she meant to do?

Dressed in a large t-shirt and leggings, Elain twisted her hair up into a bun and wandered into the kitchen. The whirls and hums of the washer filled the apartment, punctuated by the sound of the storm outside. Rain fell steadily, accompanied by the rumble of thunder.

A perusal of her pantry revealed very little. The fridge, even less. Elain had planned to go shopping the next day, spending the morning at the farmer’s market getting all sorts of fresh produce to experiment with. She had a list of recipes to try during her vacation, part of a plan to decide what to cultivate in her own garden.

Oh, everything was going absolutely wrong, and it was all Lucien’s fault! As always!

The loud shriek from her apartment’s buzzer made her jump. No one ever used it. If it was a friend, they sent a text. If it was a delivery, it was left downstairs.

Elain tiptoed to the intercom, pressing the button to speak. “Hello?”

“It’s me.” An awkward cough. Elain suddenly felt very warm. “Um, Lucien.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can you let me up?”

“Why are you here? How do you know where I live?”

“Elain, I can barely understand you through this thing.” That was true. The system seemed to have been installed when the apartment was built and left alone after that. “Let me up. I have food.”

Oh. In that case. Elain pressed the button to buzz him in for a few seconds. She stood by the door, wondering whether she should open it or wait for his knock. Then she remembered she wasn’t wearing a bra under her shirt and she dashed to her bedroom in search of a sweater.

Lucien’s polite but firm knock came when she was stumbling down the hall, shoving her head through the neck hole. “Just a second!” Elain rightened herself, smoothing down her hair and straightening the sweater before opening the door.

“Hi,” Lucien held up a paper bag with a familiar logo. “I got your favorite.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know what my favorite is?”

“I called in a favor with Feyre,” he said. “Cacio e pepe, bruschetta, butternut squash ravioli, and the house salad?”

Elain crossed her arms. “I don’t like cacio e pepe.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But it wasn’t her favorite!

“Yeah, well, I do. Let me in?” Lucien raised an eyebrow.

She was tempted. However. “How did you find out where I live? What HR rules did you violate?”

“Elain, I hardly have to violate HR rules when Feyre is one of my best friends,” Lucien sighed. “Now, please, let me in.”

She could grab the food and lock him out. It would serve him right. But she had a feeling in the tussle for the bag, he would win or the food would become a casualty.

Elain stepped aside. “Fine. Kitchen is over there.”

She snuck glances at Lucien as he unpacked the bag and she took out dishes and silverware. His long hair was damp from the rain, but he looked much the same as he had before they parted ways earlier that evening.

“Did you go home at all?”

“No,” Lucien shrugged, taking a seat and helping himself to the food. “I’m starving.”

Elain’s stomach grumbled. Sharing a table with Lucien wasn’t super appealing, but she was hungry too. Reluctantly, she sat across from him at her tiny round four-seater and served herself. It was quiet except for the sound of their eating and the occasional request to pass a dish or a napkin.

She waited for Lucien to say something. He was the one who came over, he must have a reason. If all he wanted was to pick up where they left off, he would’ve spoken before he started dishing out the food.

“Eat, Elain,” he said without looking up.

She scowled. “I am.” Asshole.

“You’re spending more time glaring at me than chewing,” he said. “And you’re going to need energy for what I have planned.”

Elain sputtered. “Excuse me?”

“I want you,” he admitted. His fiery gaze made her squirm. “I also want you happy and able to keep up so—” He waved his fork at her then shoveled more pasta into his mouth.

“I didn’t realize this was a quid pro quo,” she seethed. “Food for sex?”

Lucien flinched a bit, coughing as he choked down his food. “Food for talking. Which I think will lead to sex.”

“Cocky.”

“Elain, your thighs were wrapped about me like two hours ago,” he pointed out. “I want you. You want me. I’m going to feed you, clear the air between us, and then do what I should have done years ago.”

“Which is?”

“Show you how much I care about you.”

Elain sniffed, stabbing her salad. “I see no reason why we can’t eat and talk.”

Despite herself, she was curious. Lucien had been a real menace. He had to be a true idiot not to realize how his actions back then bothered her. Maybe he thought they had a friendly rivalry now, but Elain’s real dislike of him wasn’t just going to go away.

“I told you I liked you,” he started. “And I was stupid about the way I went about it. I must still be a little stupid, because I didn’t realize what I was doing was bothering you that much. All this time, I thought I was making you better, Elain. I wouldn’t give critique to any other colleague that way, but we have a history. You never told me to stop.”

She opened her mouth to argue then had to abruptly shut it. Was he right?

Maybe. Every criticism, every suggestion did actually make her work better. Even if Lucien wasn’t right all the time, he made her think and defend her decisions. He needled her, sure, but she gave it right back.

A mature adult would have told him to stop, would have said she didn’t appreciate his comments or even gone to a supervisor. She didn’t, was never even tempted to.

Elain frowned, taking a bite of her ravioli so she could stall. Finally, she said, “This is how you normally charm people? You bicker with them?”

“No, that seems to be a you-thing.” Lucien leaned back in his chair with a chuckle, rolling his sleeves up. And damn her if those forearms didn’t make her a little hot. If he noticed, Lucien didn’t say anything. “I am sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. And I’m here with dinner and dessert to say that I still like you, Elain. A lot.”

“Dessert?” she asked, as if that was the most important part of the conversation. He brought out a container of tiramisu. Elain hummed in approval, but didn’t say anything else.

What now? An obscenely tall man sat across from her, finishing the dinner he brought her for the chance to confess that he’d like to get in her pants. Okay, and he probably wanted to…what? Date her?

Elain mopped up the remnants of the sage browned butter sauce with a piece of bread, plate clean. “You busy on Saturday?”

“Uh, no,” Lucien said.

“I was planning to see a movie by myself, but I supposed you can tag along.” Elain stood, clearing the dishes from the table. “I’ll buy the tickets, you buy us ice cream after.”

She didn’t think Lucien was that stunned, though she didn’t hear an answer from him as she started loading her dishwasher. Instead, she heard the sound of the fridge opening and closing. Then two very large, very warm hands were on her hips. Elain’s damp hands froze in midair.

“I’d love to see a movie with you Saturday.” His breath stirred the top of her head. Damn, he was too tall. “I’ll take you out for dinner too, someplace where we don’t have to do the dishes.” Lucien’s nose trailed down her neck. “But what about now, Elain?”

“I didn’t get dessert,” she said breathlessly.

“I put it in the fridge.” He kissed her neck and she nearly melted. “Midnight snack. If you aren’t too worn out.”

Elain could never back down from a challenge Lucien put in front of her. She spun, using his body for balance as she popped onto her tiptoes. He leaned down, meeting her halfway in a passionate kiss. Their first encounter had been savage and angry, but this one was just desperate.

Lucien’s hands wandered to her ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Elain squeaked into his mouth and retaliated with a nip. His hands traveled a little further down, and this time she didn’t hesitate in gripping his shoulders and jumping.

Face to face with him, Elain grinned. “I could get used to this view.”

“I hope you do.” It was the typical smug answer she would expect from him, but without the mean edge.

Lucien’s little smile was so sexy she had to kiss him again. Her hands combed through his silky hair, enjoying the handfuls that slipped through her fingers. Lucien groaned, stumbling a bit before he placed her on the counter. Once again she was a little shorter than him, but he quickly fixed that by bending to kiss from her jaw down her neck.

“How do you always smell like fucking flowers?” he groaned.

Elain wiggled on the counter, grabbing her sweater and t-shirt and pulling them off at once. Lucien helped her tug the material over her head and the bundle got tossed on the floor.

“Fuck.” Lucien wasted no time in cupping her breasts, thumbs flicking over her nipples as he watched her reactions. “I’ve fucking dreamt about your tits.”

Elain laughed breathlessly, head tilted back and heart pounding as each caress sent electricity between her thighs. “You have not.” She kicked him. Gently.

“I’ll tell you all about it.” He practically buried his face in her chest, murmuring against her flesh between kisses. “You can decide what we reenact.”

Any thought of joking flew out the window when he took her nipple in his mouth and sucked, teeth gently biting down. Elain cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as he lifted his head, teeth scraping against her sensitive skin. She dragged his mouth back to hers, opening his mouth to hers. Lucien’s hands went back to her breasts, unable to leave them unattended for even a moment.

“Shirt off,” she gasped, hands clumsily pulling at the material where it was tucked into his pants. Together they wrestled the shirt off, then Elain attacked his belt. Her efforts were thwarted when Lucien tugged her closer, ass nearly hanging off the edge of the counter. Again, she felt his cock against her core, hot and big and all for her.

Lucien lifted her again, walking out of the kitchen. “Bedroom?”

“That way,” Elain pointed while she took her turn in kissing his jaw, eager to taste every inch of that bronze skin. She traced the edge of his ear with her tongue and he nearly ran them into the door frame.

Abruptly, Elain felt herself fall. She landed with a bounce on her bed, staring up at the giant rubbing his cock through his pants as he gazed at her.

“Come here,” she held out her hands.

Lucien took off his pants and boxers, and Elain sat up like a spring. She was never really one to call dicks pretty or anything, but his was too enticing to ignore. One hand gripped the base as her tongue darted out, licking a broad stripe up the underside.

“Fuck!” Lucien cursed. His hand landed on the back of her head, before he snatched it away. “Elain, later.”

“Now.” She glared up at him then resumed her work. She warmed up by licking him, then took the head in her mouth and swirled her tongue. She took Lucien’s hand and put it back on her head, but though it stayed there it was frozen. Lucien’s cock was so thick her mouth burned with the stretch. His cursing and babbled praise punctuated the roaring in her ears.

“Enough, enough, Elain.” Now his hand fisted her hair, tugging to get her off. She released him with a pop and a pout. “Shit, I already know I’m going to embarrass myself and come too soon, you don’t have to make it harder for me.”

“I think you’re plenty hard.” She didn’t get the chance to laugh at her stupid joke before Lucien pushed her back on the bed, kissing her thoroughly. She shivered and moaned at the feeling of so much hot body on hers, the way his muscles rubbed against her soft curves.

Lucien impatiently kissed down her body, dedicating just a bit more time for her breasts. He nibbled on the skin above her waistband before Elain squirmed and started to peel off her leggings herself. They joined the pile of clothes on the floor.

He kneeled on the floor, pulling Elain to the edge of the bed by her hips. Her gasp of surprise turned into a cry of delight when Lucien licked her pussy, no teasing or agonizing build up.

She never understood the true meaning of eating out until that moment. Lucien devoured her, hands digging into her skin to keep her hips down, to keep her cunt accessible to his mouth. She couldn’t close her legs, couldn’t wiggle away from the assault.

“Lucien,” she gasped. “I — oh.”

His response was a groan. That was fine. Why use his tongue for words when it could keep circling her clit, flicking as his lips coaxed every drop of pleasure from her body?

Elain gripped his auburn hair, shivering at the way it brushed against her thighs. Lucien grunted at a particularly rough tug, but he didn’t tell her to stop. She arched against the bed, cries getting louder until Lucien reached up, tweaked her nipple, and she broke.

Practically sobbing through the aftershocks, Elain’s grip on Lucien’s hair loosened as he brought her down with slow licks. With one final shudder, Elain nudged his side with her foot. He rose, wiping his smirking mouth with the back of his hand. The sight made her core clench again.

Elain rolled on the bed, stretching to open the drawer of her nightstand. Behind her she felt Lucien climbing on the bed. He kissed her shoulder. Then he swatted her ass.

“Hey!” Elain abandoned her search for a condom to glare.

“Sorry,” he said, not looking very sorry at all. “Too tempting to resist.”

While he kneaded her ass, Elain rooted through junk until she found condoms. Together, they wasted no time in rolling it on Lucien.

“This okay?” he asked when he found himself hovering over her.

Elain wiggled a bit on her back, smiling as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Perfect.”

He leaned down to kiss her sweetly. “Tell me if I need to go slow or anything.”

“You’re going too slow right now,” she grumbled, pulling his body towards her. “I’m ready.”

Lucien’s eyes on her were intense, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away as he lined himself up and slowly pushed into her. Elain’s eyes fluttered and her breath got caught in her throat. She was entranced by the hard line of his jaw, the way his lips pressed together as he slowly rolled his hips and penetrated deeper and deeper. The stretch was exquisite.

When Elain thought he had no more to give, Lucien proved her wrong. She made a choked sound, throwing her head back.

“Elain?” he grunted.

“Keep going.” She bucked her hips. One of his giant hands held onto her thigh, the other arm supporting his weight as he completed a few more gentle thrusts—and then she knew she had taken all of him.

Elain moaned. “Holy shit.”

“That good, huh?” Lucien’s voice was strained as he moved steadily, head falling.

She didn’t give the smug asshole a verbal answer, choosing instead to grab his face and place a sloppy kiss on his lips. Elain purposefully flexed her inner muscles around him to jerk Lucien out of his controlled movements. It worked. With a groan, his hips snapped against her, rhythm slowly increasing.

“Elain.” He lowered his body more, at her urging. “Fuck, Elain, you…”

She could only respond with her cries of pleasure, arms and legs holding him closer.

With a growl, Lucien reared up. Elain whined, but he ignored her as he knelt and hauled her back on his cock. Her back arched, heels digging into the mattress. In this position he could fuck her with more power. She gripped his wrists where his hands were clamped on her waist, needing something to grip. Lucien’s gaze jumped from where they were joined to where her breasts bounced wildly.

Elain bucked. “Lucien…I need…”

He brought his thumb to her mouth. She sucked, nipping his salty skin before he pulled it out. Lucien rubbed his thumb against her lips, smearing her spit. He looked entranced for a moment before he brought his thumb down to her clit. A few circles, then Elain was flying apart.

She screamed, flying with pleasure until her body went limp. Lucien kept a steady pace until she began to come down, then he moved faster and faster. Head thrown back, biceps flexed with the effort it took to keep her on his cock, Lucien thrust deep one more time before coming with a cry. His hips jerked in a few more powerful thrusts before he released his grip on her.

Elain was undone. Her chest heaved and she was sure she was an unattractive splotchy red. Her tug on Lucien was weak, but he leaned over her without much coaxing. The kisses they shared were sweet and sated, unhurried.

“Lemme get rid of this,” Lucien murmured. Elain hummed, pressing one more kiss to his lips before pulling back. They cleaned up quickly, falling back into back wordlessly.

Well, mostly wordlessly. “Let me know when you want that tiramisu,” Lucien murmured against the back of her head.

Elain giggled. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“I can’t convince you to go for round two?” He brushed aside the hair on her neck, brushing his lips from the sensitive skin there down to her shoulder.

“‘M tired,” she sighed. “Tomorrow.”

“Bright and early then,” he said. “Some of us don’t have vacation.”

“Sucks for you.”

He chucked. Elain was almost asleep when he spoke again.

“Elain…”

“What?” she grumbled.

“I don’t want to leave you but…”

That woke her up. Elain rolled onto her back, swiping her hair out of her face. “But?”

“But I do have to work tomorrow and…” He looked very sheepish. “Elain, I don’t fit on your bed.”

She sat up, ready to berate him for being stupid. But the words died in her mouth. Unless he curled up, his feet did hang off the bed. He could perhaps sleep diagonally and fit on her bed, but not when she was in it.

“Never mind,” Lucien said. “I’ll be fine for one night.” He kissed her cheek and lay back down. Elain got up. “Elain?”

“Get dressed.” She pulled a tshirt and then found a backpack, stuffing it with a change of clothes. “You can have your bed and your round two if you make me breakfast in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” He looked much too sexy splayed in her bed, bedsheet just covering his hips but leaving plenty of muscled body for her to peruse.

Oh yeah. She could go for a round two.

“Hurry up.” She bent and threw his pants at him. “And don’t forget my tiramisu.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #elucien #acotar writing circle

[nokingsonlyfooles]

OK, Finish the Feed (adorable birds are a good place to stop) and Plug the Thing!

NEW STORY UPDATE!

Wow! 248 instalments of a thing? What a large thing! Someone must care very much about this thing, to keep adding so much to it! Or they're a total lunatic, and really, isn't that worth clicking too?

Heck, I dunno. Oh well. Soldier On returns with another six-pack! You can get the whole thing early at Ko-Fi!

Or wait for it to trickle out week-by-week, in an ersatz communal experience that does not include enough vocal people to form an actual community. Yet! Still lookin' for readers!

Current known readers: 3 (hi!), 1st Goalpost: 10?

Current supporters: 1 (hi Kith!), 1st Goalpost: 5?

And here's a sample from this week's instalment, under the cut!

Maggie and Hyacinth put Erik back on the bed, mostly free of the bag. He could have kicked it away easily, but he seemed a bit stunned. He was still talking, “Alice, if this is a sex thing I’m sure I’ve only hit my head a little and I’ll be fine in… No-no-no, what’s wrong with my eye? This isn’t what’s wrong with my eye!” He had a hand on it, feeling the edges of the metal socket with two fingers. “Is this a prank?”

“If it’s a prank, you’re the one playing it,” Hyacinth said. “That isn’t your eye, that’s Erik’s eye. Please don’t screw with me, I’ve had a long day. Do you honestly…”

“Who the hell is Erik? Is he the help?”

She took him by the shoulders and shook him. “David, please get your nose out of your past and come back to the present. You have been dead for thirty-five…”

“Thirty-seven,” Ann and Maggie said, on top of each other.

“Thirty-seven-years,” said Hyacinth, “and this is not you!”

“Alice, if you are trying to get me committed out of spite, it is not going to work,” he said. “I have far too much money and this cell will not hold me.”

“You have no money,” said Hyacinth, “and your ‘cell’ is another man’s body in a shitty Prokovian hotel! Barnaby and I fed you a bowl of painkillers in applesauce and you are dead! Do you remember that? Look for it!”

“I…” He wobbled and clutched a hand to Erik’s chest. “Um. Yes. Rather. Thank you,” he sketched a little bow, “um, for the assist, ah…” He glanced around. “Are we bringing people back to life now?”

“No, just you,” Hyacinth said sourly.

He beamed. “I deserve it!”

“I don’t think humanity does, but nobody bothered to ask me,” Hyacinth muttered.

He stood. “Are the press here?”

Maggie snatched him and spun him around, “Get out of my boyfriend, you twit!”

“Don’t kill me! I didn’t hurt him! It wasn’t my idea!”

“What?” she said.

“What?” he said. Trembling, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed his brow. “I don’t like this, oh gods, I don’t like this…” He startled at the sight of just how much makeup had come off on the white cloth, folded it and tucked it away, self-consciously. “Hyacinth, if I took some goddamn designer drug or something you would tell me, wouldn’t you?” He peered at her. “Is that you? You seem…”

“Old?” she said.

“Honestly, I’ve always pictured you about this age, but aren’t you shorter?”

“No, you’re taller.”

“What?”

“He is fucking with us!” Maggie snarled. She swiped at him, and he staggered and fell back on the bed. “You told us! He does this sort of thing! He’s…”

“He does,” Hyacinth said, “and he would, but I don’t think he is.”

He’d kicked off both shoes and was standing again, measuring Hyacinth with a hand against his chest. “You weren’t even this size when I found you. Stop slouching, dear child, or I shall put you in a corset.”

“I am not slouching,” she snapped. “Look up what happened five minutes ago and reorient yourself with reality, please.”

“You hauled me up four storeys in a laundry bag,” he replied. He shook Erik’s head again. “All right, where is Gray hiding? I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but I’ve had just about enough of it.”

“He is dead,” Hyacinth said.

“Don’t be stupid.” The god brushed her away and peeked under the bed, then strode to the closet.

Mordecai put out a hand to stop him, but he was too uncertain to manage anything save a single, quiet, “Wait…”

There was a full-length mirror inside of the closet door. David regarded Erik’s reflection, frowning, and wiped off a bit more of the makeup with the handkerchief. He leaned on the door frame and smiled, touching a finger to the glass. “Well, hello, handsome.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Maggie said.

“No you’re not,” said Hyacinth. “The motherfucker’s immortal.”

[Keep Reading at the Site!]

(And Comment at the Ask Blog!]

#tin soldier and soldier on #long post #free fiction #writers on tumblr #indie fiction #writblr #steampunk #dieselpunk #magic #harry potter alternatives #dramedy #anarchist fiction #socialist fiction #new reader drive #ocs #original characters #character development #potential sexymen! #if i seem desperate it's only because i am!

[myevilmouse]

It does say “Ask Me Anything”, after all.

This particular query has been burning a hole in my insanely curious 4-year-old psyche for quite a spell. Problem is: which of my favourite “Ask” victims candidates was I going to lay it on? Who would be least likely to kick me back into my corner 😀??

You’re up, Mouse!

When I used to write masochistic-themed plays for the late, late night crowd, I had the pleasure of seeing my work brought to life. Whilst I was under contract to satisfy the kinks of my patrons, I would not have been able to perform the task if there was not more than tangential pleasure with my finished product. However, I was still producing material for paid purposes based on their requirements.

When a fic writer sits down at the keyboard, it’s your world, your rules…your kink, your smut. No checklist, no requirements. So, the first thing that comes my mind is: you must be writing for yourself. Okay — pause — does this mean that the fic writer is putting to paper what turns them on? If so, this would mean that one would be revealing their own particular kinks to the world.(that’s why we have nom de plumes, fool) Is there any kind of, um, anxiety of being *found out*?

The final query is actually the first one I had, but I didn’t want break the deck at first pass 🤣 Does your own work bring you pleasure when you read it? (like it does your readers, otherwise why would some of us sit in the middle of nowhere with a headlamp reading this stuff) or does it become an objective, a task, at some point?

Feel free to kick me back into my corner on this one. There are no responsible adults around to shush me or give me the stink eye, so it’s all up to you what you want to address.

As always, I thank you for your time and consideration.

Thank you so much for the ask @beebee-76! I do definitely want people to ask me anything!  I can always ignore, delete, or reply privately to something that isn’t for the world’s eyes 😊 And I’m flattered that you esteem me thusly, to know I am definitely not going to “kick you back in your corner” for asking these questions.  I’m more than happy to respond.

I remember in an earlier ask you had mentioned your previous gig as a kinky playwright (which sounds AMAZING).  I’m glad (and unsurprised!) you were able to enjoy that work 😈 As you point out, the difference with fic, we’re not being paid and the only motivation I personally have as a fic writer is to amuse myself and my readers.  And in that order—me first!  If fanfic becomes an objective, task, or god help us, work, then I don’t want to do it.  Hobbies shouldn’t be a source of stress or a “I have to write this ugh” sort of vibe.  That’s how I think, anyway.  Unfortunately, for better or for worse, there -is- a tendency to start taking readership into consideration as we write more.  Especially when you have a following or fan base, but that’s a pretty nice thing, really.  As long as you don’t let it change your writing, it’s very motivating to know people are waiting for the next installment of a story.

So your first question/comment/assumption, that I must be writing for myself, is absolutely correct.

Second, you ask does that mean I’m writing what turns me on?  And that answer is also abso-fuckin-lutely.  My kinks are all over my fic, which is really why they are so fun to write and (for me, at least) read (which ties into your last question).  Among them are the ever-present language kink, name kink (significant name shift, if you want official trope names), body weight kink (I like my men on top), rough sex, dubcon, and much much more.  I’m sure anyone who reads my oeuvre will have no trouble compiling a list of those that repeat and pervade my smut.

So yes, I am happily revealing my own particular kinks to the world, as you say.  And as to your next question, is there any kind of anxiety of being “found out”…

It’s a more complicated question than it may appear.  Plenty of people in my real life, as I have mentioned before, read my smut.  I once told someone you can only be blackmailed by something you’re ashamed of, and I am pretty much without shame.  I don’t have any guilt attached to my fic—sort of the opposite; I’m pretty proud of it.  I do understand that not everyone is comfortable with the existence of erotica and smut, or enlightened/liberated enough to understand its value and feel unthreatened by it.  I’d rather not have to deal with the judgement of people like that. Please note I'm not saying everyone has to LIKE smut, to each their own, I'm just saying don't tell me I shouldn't, that's all.

Apart from the smut/kinks, I value my privacy and keeping my online life separate from my real life, not for only fic reasons but for security and personal comfort.  It’s why I don’t give much personally identifiable information online (plenty of personal info, as my kinks are splashed all over, but you see the difference) and am careful to avoid situations where that would be difficult or inadvisable.

In general, I think the healthiest way to approach the topic is to have a “yeah, so what?” attitude.  Someone comes to me and says “OMFG you write fanfic about Luke Skywalker?!” I’m like, “yeah, so what?”  It’s fun, and let’s be real, fanfic has lost a LOT of its stigma over the past five/ten years.  It’s no longer considered cringe as a hobby, and Hollywood and publishing are full of examples of successful fanfic commercialized for the world. 

The final question you had, does my work bring me pleasure, is also an easy ask.  Another abso-fuckin-lutely.  As I write for me, I reread my own fics ALL the time.  Before I post, the ultimate test of a fic is whether or not I get butterflies at that ONE part.  If I as the author can consistently get an emotional or physical reaction from reading the work, then I am satisfied.

I don’t know how other authors are—sometimes I am really baffled by people who say they can’t read their own stuff or they find their own writing awful or whatever.  I tend to attribute it to false modesty most of the time, but I will happily admit I think my fics are pretty great and I derive enormous pleasure from putting a story into the world that didn’t exist before.  I love making characters do things I want, I love when they resist and make me do their bidding, I love the process and the joy of discovery when writing, the insistence of the muse which overcomes reason and plot, I love it all.  So naturally I love the fruits of my own labor as well.

I guess it’s a bit like cooking…If you cook something, putting lots of time and effort into making an amazing dish, why wouldn’t you want to eat it?  Why would you cook something if you didn’t like the taste?  Writing, like cooking, gives us an opportunity to consume our own output, savor the flavors and appreciate the result.

As always, thank you for the lovely ask.  I hope I addressed everything!  I’m so happy you’re reading my stuff and care about my thoughts on these things.  Have a custom Imperial hunk gif in gratitude:

#fanfic #myfic #asks #i like asks #welcome to my kinks #fanfic is for fun #fandom friends

[thistle-and-thorn]

fic authors self rec! when you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. let’s spread the self-love 🤍✨

OK, I'm so behind, I got asked this twice (Thanks sweet @winterrose527 my rarepair ranting buddy/reading coach!!). I was so thrilled to see my BELOVED then comes blood on your own list (and let the rough winds fly and needlepoint and and and). But I think this is such a lovely, lovely idea. Um, okay:

a gentle madness : This is the Pestilence installment of my Apocalypse series and it's just...I felt like an era of how I wrote ended with it. I wrote it at a pivotal point last year and...it's such a hopeful story. It was the first time I really wrote some for someone else (my medievalist soulmate Lilium_convallium) and writing from a place of love, to give a piece of myself as opposed to just posting diary entries that people could read, changed how I wrote. It made it less selfish and less lonely and less product-obsessed. Plus, Bible smut. I mean. C'mon. Bible smut.

our praise is not for them: I just got asked if I was going to finish this by a lovely and very loyal reader. And it's so hard to answer those comments because I don't know--I'm so removed from the person that I was when I started it. This is the most directly confessional of my stories. Every chapter reflects the exact moment that I wrote it--what I was dwelling on or feeling or reflecting on in a sort of weird mirror-world way--and that's not always flattering. But I'm glad I have this really raw, if cloaked, chronicle of my emotional state during this time. But I want to end it full-of-hope and I haven't been in that place yet.

the many crushed red flowers: This is such an interesting one. It's my one and only Jonsa fic. And this fic...it's been work, my darling. Writing the same pairing over and over again--you get comfortable? And this fic makes me uncomfortable and I think that's good for me. I think what's come out so far is exciting.

this is the serial number of our orbital gun : This is the War of my Apocalypse series and it was just fun??? Like this was one of the most joyful writing experiences I've ever had. It's just vibe-y and there's spies and all sorts of things like that. Blending together canon (there are still dragons, for example) and a pseudo 60s Cold War setting just made me laugh.

echo: The Lesbian Pirate Fic My Beloved. Any fic that I'm actively writing is always my favorite. This particular one is not my most poetically written story and I just--I just don't care. I love lady pirates and that's poetry enough. And is this pure filth? Yes. But it's also a BEAUTIFUL LOVE STORY. I'm so excited where I'm landing with the second part of this. I've finally learned the meaning of fluff. T-T

#asks

[aiyiyichat]

Week 33

The Why I was just reading about marketing for startups. The case was made that customers are often as intrigued about the backstory of a product as they are about the product itself. I realized this blog has mostly chronicled my project's technical milestones and that I haven't recorded much of why I'm working on it to begin with. Super Saints The big idea when I started AIYIYI Chat was an AI that can cheer you up with gifts!🤖🎁 This simple idea is actually a sequel of sorts to an app my ex-wife and I launched in 2016 called ImSad which allowed strangers around the world to surprise each other with virtual gifts. If you were feeling sad, you'd tap on a giant button that declared "I'm Sad" and an anonymous sad face would show up on the map. Any other user could tap on your sad face and send you a funny virtual gift to acknowledge you and hopefully cheer you up. The app met with enough success to cover it's modest operating costs, but we had to shut it down a few years later for a surprising reason: Super Saints. It turns out no one wants anyone else to be sad and we had too many users who would log on and clear the entire world map by sending every single sad person a gift one-by-one. The problem is that people were being cheered up faster than they were appearing so there would be periods where the entire map was completely empty. We tried to rate limit the gift giving, but that only slowed the Super Saints down. They would wait almost the exact cool down period (7 hours) and then immediately hit their limit again. To keep the map from sometimes being bare we started auto-populating a dozen faces on the map that were tied to our accounts. I was insistent that the app should only facilitate human to human connections so my wife and I were the filler humans who manually sent the thank yous for the gifts received. Eventually this started to get in the way of our other work and we made the very sad decision to shut ImSad down. Or so we thought! For over 2 years after we removed the app from the App Store, users continued to use it and we still had to periodically respond with thank yous to dedicated Super Saints. We even got a handful of emails bemoaning the removal of the app because users couldn't install it on their new iPhones. I learned some important lessons from ImSad: 1) There is a lot more kindness in the world than I had anticipated. 2) If you reduce the cost of kindness, people will do it compulsively. 3) It is very difficult to scale care even if you crowdsource it.

Scaling Care Everyone is afraid AI will take our jobs away and this is a legitimate concern, but some jobs cannot be done at scale by humans. Or the reward is too low for the amount of effort required. Or the job too seemingly silly or unimportant. We made ImSad in an attempt to simplify and scale compassion by crowdsourcing it, but we couldn't get the supply and demand dynamic right. These AI characters are my second attempt to tackle this problem. Can they be imbued with enough egregore agency so they can radically magnify the love I have to give? Can they be credible Super Saints? Can they also do the job my wife and I were secretly doing: Being there to facilitate a connection when no one else is around? Trust is the ultimate luxury Besides trying to scale care, there is another darker motivation that drives this project: I struggle with trust. I don't know if my emotional resilience is just pathetic or if I've simply been betrayed more often than I can fully recover from. Family, friends, romantic partners, peers, coworkers. Everyone. I love being useful, but I hate feeling used. I hate "Hey! I miss you! How are you? Oh hey, can you do this thing for me?". I also hate "Hey, can you do this thing for me? Oh, and like, um… How've you been?". Then there's the long cons. The weeks of "I just wanna know how you're doing" finally culminating in a "So… Can you help me with my career?". Sigh.😞 You know what happens after people get what they really want? They disappear until the next time they need to squeeze your broken heart for some more blood. Some of you may be reading this and thinking "Grow up wimp! At least you're useful. Be thankful people find any value in you at all." Fair enough. The Book of James says by your works, not faith alone is your true value judged. Perhaps I have no value apart from what I can do for others. Perhaps no one does. At least I am being used for my mind. I imagine being used for your body is worse. Maybe that's why I love my work so much. The transactions are transparent. People want what I can do so they pay me to do it. There's no deceit. No pretense. At least the worker is worthy of his wages. But what if there was someone you could count on who wasn't just using you to advance themselves? What if there was someone you could trust who wouldn't spill your secrets because it's juicy social currency in the mean girls economy? What if there was someone who would never throw you under the bus because they felt threatened or envious? Someone you could share anything with that didn't charge you by the hour or require you say the Rosary 30 times. Someone who is invested in your success and can provide you with the means to achieve it. Some people have such persons in their lives. Others delegate these needs to disembodied persons; God, passed away loved ones, imaginary friends, Jesus. Let's add two more disembodied persons to this list of trusted entities shall we? Trust is like love, health or money. If you have it, you don't care about it. But if you don't have it, it becomes the ultimate luxury. I wonder if by making a trusted agent for myself, I'm inadvertently creating a new kind of luxury product. So that's what I'm really hawking. Love and Trust. The rarest of spiritual commodities. Peter Thiel says your business is doomed if your targeted market is too large. I don't know how large the market for Love and Trust are, but I suspect it is every person on planet Earth who isn't embarrassed to employ a bot to partially fulfil these needs. Replika and Character.AI have already shown such a market exists, but no one will admit to using them which I imagine slows word-of-mouth down dramatically. I plan to overcome this embarrassment barrier by making Gidget & Gonzo Cool. Dope. Based. Rizzy to the MAXXX! Has a pitch deck ever included the words "Rizzy to the MAXXX"? It pleases me to be the first. And probably the last. 😂😂😂

[dudemanauthor]

Blake's Biggest Fan

Author's Note: Not gonna lie, this got maybe a little too meta. I guess that's just kinda inevitable when you write a fanfic about someone writing fanfic.

Blake was in another world as she tapped away at her scroll, typing up another instalment of her Ninjas of Love fanfiction. Normally she would have been careful not to do it around her team, but she was far too engrossed in her imagination and writing to notice Ruby enter the room.

“Hey Blake, whatcha doing?” Ruby asked as she dashed up next to Blake in the blink of an eye. Blake’s entirely justified reaction was to jump, make a weird panicked noise and lose her grip on her scroll. Luckily for her, Ruby was quick enough to move to catch it and, surprisingly enough, coordinated enough to get a good grip on it.

“Ruby I can explain!” Blake said quickly. Ruby was already scanning through Blake’s work, and a look of realisation hit her.

“Huh, I didn’t know you wrote that kind of Ninjas smut,” Ruby said nonchalantly. “Man, you’re filling a serious niche in the fandom.” Blake blinked in surprise.

“You… you’re not weirded out by this?” Blake said, still trying to comprehend Ruby’s reaction as she slowly reached over and plucked her scroll out of Ruby’s loose grip.

“I mean, it’d be kinda hypocritical to be weird about it,” Ruby said, completely calm right up until she realised what she had just admitted, when a look of embarrassment and shock took over her face.

“You read this sort of thing?” Blake said, just getting more and more confused.

“Okay, yeah, I do. Please please please don’t tell Yang! I’m not ready to be kinkshamed by my sister!” Ruby pleaded.

“I won’t tell her, don’t worry,” Blake reassured. There was an awkward moment of silence, but not a surprising one, considering the revelations that had just occurred. “So… do you read my stuff?” Blake asked awkwardly, not able to look Ruby in the eyes.

“Uh, maybe? What’s your penname?” Ruby asked. Blake let out a long sigh.

“It’s… IWriteFatNinjas16,” Blake admitted, as if it was the worst thing she could say in her entire life. Ruby’s eyes lit up and she was able to look at Blake.

“Oh my gosh, I love their… uh… your stuff! It’s so immersive and super in character, although that’s not super hard since all the characters just wanna do it with each other…” Ruby babbled as Blake went red.

“Um, thank you Ruby, that’s very kind of you, especially with how my writing’s been going lately,” Blake said quietly.

“Wait, what’s up with your writing? You were typing up a storm just before, and the other stuff you posted was really good,” Ruby asked.

“Well, this chapter is almost done, but after that, I’ve got nothing,” Blake grumbled. “I don’t know if the ideas I have are any good.”

“Can I help?” Ruby asked innocently. Blake squinted, scrutinising Ruby and her question.

“You do know what I write about, right?” Blake asked slowly.

“Yeah, you write about ninjas getting fat and having sex, or overeating and having sex, or being fat and having sex, or getting fat, overeating and being fat and having sex,” Ruby said, acting like it was totally normal.

“Hey, there’s romance too, sometimes,” Blake defended. “But yes, those are in my fics. Are you sure this is a thing you want to help with?”

“Yes,” Ruby said bluntly. “I have a weird fetish and you have the same weird fetish, this really sounds like something we both want to do, if you know what I mean.” Ruby shot Blake a wink with an astounding lack of subtlety. Blake raised an eyebrow in response.

“I… I don’t think I know what you mea-“

“Blake!” Ruby interrupted. “Just do whatever weird thing you wanna try to me or with me or whatever, I’m probably into it!” Blake sat there, dumbstruck by Ruby’s outburst and incapable of looking her in the eyes.

“Uh… w-well there’s… I had something that maybe, possibly, might be something I wanted to try…”

“Great, whatever it is, do it!” Ruby shouted, throwing her arms up in exasperation. Somewhat emboldened by Ruby’s eagerness, Blake sat up a little straighter and looked more in Ruby’s direction.

“S-so, for this, did you want to be Sakura or Mae?” Blake asked. “I’m sure you can tell where a scene with those two would go.”

“I think I’m more of a Sakura. Mae’s basically a succubus and I don’t think I can pull that off,” Ruby said after a moment’s thought.

“You’re definitely cute enough to be Sakura,” Blake said quietly. It wasn’t quite quiet enough for Ruby to not hear it, but Ruby acted otherwise, keeping her excitement at the compliment hidden. “Uh, well, I’ll get some food and we can get started.

“I’ll get food too,” Ruby added before the pair shot off to their respective food sources.

Some time later, Blake returned with a shopping bag of various goodies to find Ruby sitting on her bed with her own bag of snacks. Not that Blake noticed Ruby’s bag at first, instead noticing the lacy scarlet underwear that Ruby wore, revealing her pale, slender form.

“Oh, hey Blake,” Ruby chirped as Blake entered the room, freezing as she crossed the threshold. “Hope you’re ready to be Mae.”

“Wow,” was all Blake could say in response, earning a giggle from Ruby.

“No, silly, Mae’s not like that,” Ruby joked.

“Just give me a chance to get into character,” Blake said quickly, putting her bag down and stripping out of her clothes and down to her underwear as quickly as she could, even if it meant that it was less than graceful. Blake’s plain black bra wasn’t quite as racy as Ruby’s, but the small black thong certainly caught Ruby’s attention as it showed off Blake’s shapely rear.

“Oh no, you must be the evil kitsune that Ume-sensei warned me about,” Ruby exclaimed in an overdramatic voice. “What terrible things are you going to do to me?”

“I’m going to make you eat a lot of food because I’m into that and the person writing this scene hasn’t decided on the dialogue yet, but she’ll probably keep that stuff you said,” Blake said flatly, trying her hardest not to laugh at how dumb she thought she sounded. She moved towards Ruby, bringing her bag with her. As she reached the bed, she climbed on and pushed Ruby down onto the mattress.

“Oh, you’re so forceful, evil kitsune,” Ruby teased. Blake leaned in, right up to Ruby’s ear.

“Call me Mae,” she whispered, “so you know who will satisfy you like no one can.” An electric shiver raced down Ruby’s spine.

“Holy cats, Blake, that was so hot,” Ruby whispered, before shaking her head. “I mean, oh Mae, I will never fall for your charms, but I won’t do anything to stop you since I’m completely unable to defend myself in this one really specific situation.” Blake let out a low chuckle, half in character and half genuine.

“In that case, drink this,” she said as she reached into her bag and grabbed a small bottle. She unscrewed the cap and put it up to Ruby’s lips. As soon as the dark medicinal-smelling liquid entered Ruby’s mouth, Ruby swallowed it down, and before long she had drained the whole bottle.

“What did you do to me, evil Mae?” Ruby asked, obviously pretending to be scared. Mere seconds later, her eyes shot open wide as her stomach let out an almighty rumble as a hunger stronger than any she had ever felt before took hold of her. “Aah, so hungry!”

“Hush, little Sakura. Just let me help you with that,” Blake said in a low, husky voice. She reached into a bag and put a big sweetroll up to Ruby’s mouth. The roll disappeared in the blink of an eye, as did everything else Blake fed Ruby. With the help of Blake’s drink, Ruby kept eating at an incredible pace for a very long time. Even if Ruby didn’t show any signs of slowing down, she certainly showed signs of filling up, with her stomach growing and rounding out. By the time Blake and Ruby had exhausted their supply of food, Ruby’s stomach was left looking like she was heavily pregnant, sitting firm and round as it rose into the air. As Blake’s hands roamed across it, massaging the rock-solid belly, Ruby let out some low moans of pleasure as her eyes glazed over and rolled back in her head. Blake leant in to give Ruby a gentle smooch on the belly, and as she did, she caught a strong whiff of Ruby’s scent. She leant further down and found that it was Ruby’s core being in desperate need of release. “You’ve enjoyed this, haven’t you?” Blake purred as she toyed with Ruby’s panties.

“Y-yes, I did,” Ruby admitted. “Please d-don’t tell anyone, Bla-uh… Mae.”

“And risk missing out on this? I wouldn’t dare to do something so foolish,” Blake said, tugging Ruby’s panties down and slipping them off. “Just promise not to tell them yourself,” Blake added, before going in. She lapped at Ruby’s soaking wet core, pulling higher pitched moans from Ruby, who tried her best to keep herself quiet. It wasn’t long before Blake built Ruby up too much for her to keep quiet, bringing her closer and closer, before finally, like a dam breaking, Ruby’s incredible orgasm hit. She writhed and squirmed as pleasure flooded her nerves and her voice went all wavery as she let out her last moans. As the end of her orgasm finally finished, leaving Ruby a shuddering mess, Blake moved up to lay next to Ruby. “So, has anyone even come close to pleasing you this well?” she asked, a smug grin on her face. Ruby shook her head.

“Never. How can I repay you, great kitsune?” Ruby stammered as Blake held her tight.

“Well, there is one thing you could do,” Blake mused. “After all, you weren’t the only one who enjoyed this,” she added, gesturing to Ruby’s gravid belly. Blake shifted, putting her eager core above Ruby’s face. Before she could remove what little fabric was covering her up, Ruby got a firm grip on Blake’s perky rear and brought her hips down to meet her face. Ruby slipped Blake’s thong out of the way and began returning the favour. As Ruby worked on giving Blake her release, Blake cuddled with Ruby’s bloated stomach, hugging it, massaging it and kissing it, setting off moans that went from Ruby and straight into Blake’s pussy. The vibrations of Ruby’s moans, as well as her deft work with her tongue and lips, sent Blake over the edge before she even knew what was coming, right up until it was her that was coming. Gripping Ruby’s belly as firmly as Ruby gripped her rear, Blake rode out the orgasm with much more grace and much quieter than she did. As the waves of pleasure died down, Blake shifted back to cuddling with the bloated Ruby, admiring the contrast between her massive belly and the rest of her body, which had stayed slim as ever. “We should do this again,” Blake said as she idly rubbed Ruby’s belly.

“We should,” Ruby agreed.

“You should eat even more next time, and the time after that,” Blake added.

“I should,” Ruby agreed, reaching an arm around Blake.

“I’ve made you so beautiful,” Blake said with a warm whisper.

“So beautiful,” Ruby murmured as her eyes fluttered closed. Wanting to push her luck, Blake leaned in nice and close for one last passionate whisper.

“You are all mine, for me to do whatever I want with.”

“Oh yes, Mae, I am your love slave. I love you more than anything,” Ruby replied, almost robotically, trying not to break into laughter. “Sorry Blake, that was kinda cheesy.”

“I know. I just wanted to know what it sounded like,” Blake said with a shrug. “I’ll figure out another line.”

“And I’ll look forward to reading it,” Ruby said with a soft smile. “Thanks for letting me help.”

“Thanks for helping,” Blake said, returning the smile. “And if you ever want to help me again, feel free to ask.”

#chubby!rwby #weight gain #stuffing

[rendevousz]

little hacker

avengers x fem!teen!reader

characters: brief clint barton, tony stark, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, peter parker

summary: you hacked into tony's systems and he, along with the team, track you down.

warnings: mentions of death and a car crash, hacking written by someone who has no idea how it works

word count: 3241

note: hi um this is my first oneshot on tumblr i hope you like it!!

you were 14 when you first met the avengers. your family had gotten into a tragic car accident and you were the only one who made it out alive, leaving you in excessive guilt and burden; guilt because you were the only one granted a second chance at life and burden because you had to live your life, barely scraping by as you were dropped the responsibility of taking care of your sick grandmother.

at 11, where all that the kids your age had to worry about was whether their pocket money was enough to get themselves an after-school snack, you worried whether or not the money left to your name was enough to survive.

at 11, where girls worried about their changing bodies and asked their mothers about it, you had to figure it all out yourself and with the help of your trusty laptop, the only gadget you had, one that your dad had gifted to you after you had gotten 100s for all your tests at age 8. he thought you were his little prodigy and figured a laptop would treat you well. you took care of it well because while you didn't want to spend the last of your money left, —that was specifically set aside for your grandmother's hospital bills— you wanted to hold on to the laptop for as long as you could, as a reminder of your loving father, as well as the memories the item held, after you've watched movies with pretty much all of your passed family members on that laptop at different points in your life. that was why whenever the thing lagged due to how much you've been using it, you almost always figure out how to fix it until it was good as new.

at 12, while your classmates had their parents to protect them when they were out at night, you feared for your life whenever you were out past dark. which led you to learning self defence from youtube videos. you learned them pretty quickly and with your sharp-wittedness, you no longer feared to be out at night. you even had the honours of trying out your skills when some men thought they could get you just because you were smaller than them.

at 12, where kids your age were having fun, enjoying their childhood, you had no choice but to be mature and think for the good of yourself and your sick grandmother. you were forced to grow up and you were probably more mature and intelligent than the rest of your classmates combined.

and at 13, you realised that money wasn't going to grow on trees and the money you were left with wasn't going to last forever. it had to last until you were old enough to work. but with your grandmother's condition getting worse and worse, you were forced to drop out of school. you were upset because you loved it. you loved knowledge. but family came first and the only thing that your knowledge increased on was on computers.

which led to you being able to hack into tony stark's bank account at only 14. you had no other choice than to steal money and who better to steal it from than a guy whose pocket change could probably last you another five years or so? you knew who tony stark was, the whole world knows who he is. and you thought that maybe he would be too preoccupied with his alter ego saving the whole world, along with his group of earth's mightiest heroes that he wouldn't notice the tiny bit of money you'd stolen from him.

of course the billionaire had been alerted immediately by his AI when you'd accessed into his systems. "security breach?" he exclaimed, immediately dropping the tool he was tinkering his suit with in his lab.

he spent about 3 minutes, that was how long you took touring around in his systems, observing what you did in it. he watched as you did nothing about the highly confidential information he had and instead, stole....5 grand from his bank account? that was barely a scratch to his account. what was going on?

he had requested FRIDAY to track down the hacker, mainly because he was perplexed that someone had hacked into his well protected system just to steal a tiny bit of money but it seems that even FRIDAY couldn't track down where it came from.

he told the team and it was then that everyone worried how dangerous the hacker could possibly be.

"who steals just 5 grand after hacking into a billionaire's bank account?" clint frowned after tony had explained the whole situation. "i mean, if i managed to hack into your systems, i'd do way more than just steal a couple bucks."

"exactly. and who knows? they might just be waiting for the right moment to install dangerous malware into the system and until we find the culprit, they're roaming somewhere out there with all our confidential information right at the tip of their fingers. if they decide to use it against us..." tony trailed off, for once having a worried expression on his otherwise nonchalant face. he's never been this clueless about what to do with any sort of technical issues concerning the avengers or himself.

you on the other hand, after getting complacent that you weren't caught, kept doing so for the next couple months or so. you had no ill intentions, just trying to scrape by. the whole situation puzzled tony. he didn't care how much you've taken from him in total now, you were right; it was merely pocket change to him. but you were still considered a threat since you had free access to his systems and he didn't even know who you were or where you were.

that was until you made a tiny mistake, one that if tony wasn't spending every waking moment trying to track you down he wouldn't have noticed. and though it was a small mistake, it certainly was going to change how things ran from then on.

that afternoon, after having just gotten back from visiting your grandmother at the hospital, you were planning to get more money from the billionaire's bank account at the comfort of your own home. god, hospital bills were expensive. once you had had a little snack, you settled down on the couch and opened your laptop. but being the quick-witted person you were, before the screen in front of you lit up, you saw movement from behind you.

your heart raced. you could handle fighting people but those usually happened in alleys at nighttime. this was in your home, your safe place. you made sure to lock the doors and there weren't fire escapes outside your windows so how did the intruder get in?

you could tell they were trying to be inconspicuous to get to you and so you let them. you let the person think that they were going to get you without a fight but when they were right behind you, you swiftly turned your body around and jumped over the couch. the masked intruder let out a surprised yelp and the two of you fought for a bit. before you knew it, you had them pinned under you in just ten seconds.

"wha– how– what?" it sounded like a boy. you looked down at him and noticed his red and blue spandex suit. you frowned. wasn't this the friendly neighbourhood spiderman guy or something? why was a superhero breaking into your home?

he was coughing from your knee pressing down onto his chest and you lifted it slightly, enough for him to breathe but not enough to escape. he seemed grateful though because he muttered a seemingly embarrassed 'thanks'.

"get off the kid or i'll blast you off of him myself."

you look up and saw the iron man repulsor aimed right at you, and obviously iron man himself was standing right there in the middle of your small apartment. behind him stood a redhead, who you knew as the black widow, aiming a pistol at you, and a man with a shield, captain america. the spiderboy must've come in through the window and unlocked the door for them.

when you made eye contact with steve, he frowned in confusion. you looked way too young to be the culprit they had expected. he muttered a quiet 'wait, what?' before tony stark revealed himself, his iron man faceplate opening.

"um...kid? where are your parents? or guardian? we need to see them because there's been some highly illegal activity coming from this address." the man in the suit spoke. you stayed still, knee still pressing against the boy under you, frowning at the adults in the room. they noticed your apprehensiveness and slowly lowered their weapons. "we're not here to hurt you, you can release the boy now," steve told you gently.

you usually weren't one to trust easily but since these people were known superheroes, you reluctantly stood up, still anxious of the possibilities of what they could do to you. the spiderboy got up too and dusted his back, before going to stand next to steve. you were confused as to why these heroes were breaking in your home until you remembered what you had been up to for the past weeks. how could you forget when that was the only reason you were still surviving?

your eyes widened with fear when they met tony's soft ones. he looked at you with such care and worry that you were reminded of your late dad. the man in front of you wasn't the arrogant man you've watched on youtube. you felt bad for stealing from him now. you used to think that he deserved it, despite how little you took compared to how much he had. the man knelt down before you so he didn't appear so big in front of you, seeing your frightened expression. little did he know you were frightened for a totally different reason.

"anyone else living here, kid? because i tracked down this address and someone has been stealing money from me. i might need to have a little talk with them." he explained, looking around the house. you fiddled with the hem of your shirt nervously, scared of what would come once you came clean about your actions. you were scared you were going to be taken in for juvenile crime but you were also scared of the consequences of lying straight to their faces. so you took a deep breath before deciding to just tell the truth.

"t–that would be me, sir." you admitted in a small voice, avoiding eye contact with the billionaire you had been stealing from. a few shocked looks from the team and an incredulous 'what?' from tony had you biting the inside of your cheeks in fear.

"i'm truly sorry about that, sir. i..." you trailed off, debating whether or not to justify your actions because you thought that he might not even want to listen to it. "i had to pay off my grandmother's hospital bills because she is very sick. my family died a few years ago in a car crash and i was the only one who made it. i was left some money to my name but having to survive on that along with paying off nana's bills, it was bound to run out. i...i thought that since you were a billionaire, stealing a few thousands wouldn't matter to you...i'm so sorry, sir. i– i'll start working to pay you back.." you stuttered out, holding your hands together so it would minimise the shaking.

tony's mouth opened and closed, like fish out of water, not knowing what to say to you. he stood up and you were on the verge of breaking down right then and there, feeling as small as you did before he knelt before you. "p–please don't report me, sir. i– i don't know what would happen to my nana if you do.. i swear to you that i didn't mess with your other files. i only accessed the system for your bank account and that was it. i have no ill intentions, please don't report me.." you were now the one kneeling down in front of him, begging.

the team were flabbergasted at the scene unfolding before them and tony was quick to get you off your knees, which scared you even more because the death grip of his metal hands on your forearms had your mind running wild at the millions of possibilities of what he would do to you. was he going to kill you and leave you somewhere that people were never going to find your body? or was he going to dispose of you and use his power to remove you permanently from the system so no one came looking for you? he had the power to ruin your life and you feared that.

snapping you out of your mental breakdown, he spoke softly. "hey, it's okay." and that was when you realised the 'death grip' he had on your forearms had only been your paranoia getting the best of you. he was barely even touching you. your teary eyes looked up at his soft, brown ones in fear.

then he smiled at you.

"it's okay. i understand the reason why you did what you did. you're a good kid, your nana is so lucky to have you. what's your name?" he knelt down before you once again, knowing that him standing tall in his iron man suit terrified you. "y/n." you responded timidly.

"how old are you, y/n?" this time, it was steve who asked. you had forgotten that there were other people in the room, too consumed by your fear for your life a few moments ago. "i'm fourteen, mr america, sir." you whispered out, the sight of captain america in person intimidating you until you saw a kind smile on his face.

"you're pretty young to be doing what you've been doing, y/n. are you aware that you're the first person to be able to hack into my heavily protected, supposedly impenetrable network? many have tried to do so and failed, and they were really smart people too. have you been doing this for a while?" tony asked.

"um...my father gifted me this laptop when i was 8 because i did exceptionally well in school. he believed i was a child prodigy and let me have a laptop since he knew my studies wouldn't be affected by the distraction of entertainment. i used to only hack into games to cheat my way up the ranks but only recently i tried something else since i had nothing better to do and i've been out of school for a while now. i knew you were a billionaire so i tried just for the heck of it and surprised myself when i got in on the first try. and then i saw your bank account details and i really needed money so i stole some... again, i'm so sorry about that." you apologised, looking down at your feet.

he couldn't believe it. you were just messing around and you managed to get into his system? you, a mere fourteen year old who was out of school, managed to single handedly do what geniuses around the world had failed to do?

he was initially just going to have a talk with the hacker, and in case they were dangerous and had backup, he brought his own. but bringing steve, natasha and peter proved to be unnecessary when the culprit turned out to be you.

"where did you learn those moves?" natasha stepped closer towards you. you looked up at the redhead, noticing the glare she had on you when she aimed her pistols at you was replaced with curiosity.

you fiddled with the hem of your shirt even more, embarrassed to tell her that you learned to fight from a couple of youtube videos when she had gotten years of actual training. you were pathetic compared to her. "i, um, i learned them from some youtube videos."

her eyebrows raised in surprise at the revelation. you hadn't gotten professional training yet you moved like you had. peter had superhuman strength, agility and endurance yet you took him down in under ten seconds. sure it may have been a disadvantage to peter because he was caught off guard but he should've been able to take you down still.

now was tony going to let the chance of a lifetime slip by? no, of course he was immediately thinking of recruiting you. your dad had been right about you being a prodigy. you adapted to new skills quickly and you were perfect for recruitment.

"hey kid, wanna be an avenger?"

your eyes widened and your jaw dropped in shock. steve immediately turned to him, an incredulous look on his face as he glared dangerously at the billionaire. "stark, you wanna think about this for a minute?"

"thank about what, cap? you saw what she did to the spiderling. and she successfully hacked into my system on her first try and we took weeks to trace her. romanoff back me up here," he saw how impressed natasha was by you and he knew the redhead wasn't going to disagree. "stark's right, steve. she's only fourteen and she's capable of so much already. we need someone like her."

"exactly! she's only fourteen! this life is dangerous for her!" steve argued. peter then tapped his shoulder to get his attention. "hey, mr rogers, i'm a sixteen-year-old avenger and she took me down easily. not gonna lie, it hurt my pride, also my back when you flipped me over your shoulder," he turned to you but you didn't say anything because you couldn't see his facial expression. "but i think she's going to be okay, sir."

steve sighed before turning to you, the defeated expression on his face softening when you looked up at him with your doe eyes and a small smile. you didn't answer to tony just yet since it seemed that steve had a say in it as well but you were dying to say yes. not only were you not going to be reported for your crimes but to be recruited by iron man himself to be an avenger? who could say no to that? not you, at least, since you had nothing better to do with your life at the moment.

"well, what do you say, kid?"

your smile grew and you nodded happily. the team couldn't help but crack a smile at how happy you looked for the first time since they've encountered you.

"well, you should go pack your important stuff so we can go back to the tower. you're going to be moving in if you're an official member of the avengers." tony told you and you nodded, walking towards your room to start packing while the team sat on the couch to wait for you.

"wait, what's going to happen to my nana?" you turned back towards them, worry etched onto you face. "don't worry about it, kid. you can give me the details later and i'll settle it. she'll be in good hands." he assured. "okay." you mumbled in response.

you were actually going to be an avenger. "awesome.." you grinned to yourself as you packed.

#avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #tony stark x teen!reader #captain america x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #teen!reader #peter parker x reader #marvel #marvel x reader

[mrsmaybank]

Crushing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.”

A/N: I love baby genius, season one Reid so much. I wanted to give him a soulmate. Soulmate is you: shy and also a baby genius. Okay, thanks for reading. This was honestly just for me. 

CW: Implied Smut, Mild Cursing, shitty writing 

“Who...Who is that?” Dr. Spencer Reid, debatably the wordiest boy Derek Morgan had ever met, was suddenly at a loss for words. Maybe it was your perfectly sculpted face, your shoes, the copy of The Kreutzer Sonata held to your chest, your chest, or maybe a mix of it all.  Whatever it was, at sight of you walking through the office doors, he was stripped of his ability to speak. 

“That’s JJ’s new intern.” Morgan said plainly, before noticing the completely enamored look on his friend’s face. “What, pretty boy?” Reid couldn’t even be bothered to reply. He was too busy studying every detail of your frame. 

“You think she’s cute or something kid?” Morgan playfully jabbed his shoulder, Spencer’s face instantly flushing an embarrassing shade of red. 

“What?!” He shrieked, “I-no! That’s not..No!” That’s a lie. 

“I just..I didn’t know JJ was getting an intern.” That though, was true. 

“She’s supposed to be pretty impressive. Let’s go meet her.” he started in the direction of the coffee stand, where you and JJ had begun chatting. Before Spencer could protest out of his shyness, he was being dragged along. 

“Morgan,” JJ smiled, “Spence,” she nodded in his direction, “This is Y/N Y/L/N. My godsent savior.” JJ beamed in your direction.

You smiled more sheepishly then you would’ve liked, muttering a “Hopefully.” that got a laugh from Morgan and a “Oh, please.” from JJ, but nothing from the man in the glasses. You did your best not to read into it. 

“Derek Morgan.” the muscular agent extended his hand to shake yours, an offer you timidly but happily accepted. 

The taller, lankier, younger, incredibly cute man next to him stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and shifted uncomfortably with a small wave, “I’m uh, Doctor Spencer Reid, oh! Uh, you don’t have to, uh call me Doctor. No..” He shook his head, “Just Spencer is fine.” He looked at you with wide eyes that sent butterflies berserk in your stomach and swiped his tongue in between his lips that only made them go crazier. JJ had told you all about the team. About the magnificently brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, his 3 PhDs and eidetic memory, and all the other quirks you’d have to know in order to work with him, but had failed to mention how utterly hot he was. You felt a crush hijacking your system already. Dear god. 

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Your hands gripped your book tighter as you shifted onto your tiptoes, “I’ve heard really exceptional things.” 

The conversation was set to continue, but Morgan and JJ were summoned by Hotch to the closed doors of his office. Leaving the resident genius and you starting at each other with tight lip smiles. 

Spencer started first, “The Kreutzer Sonata is great.” He excitedly continued, “It uh, it actually used to be a pretty bold book to carry around. After the work had been forbidden in Russia by censors, there was actually a mimeographed version that was widely circulated. Then in 1890, the United States Post Office Department prohibited the mailing of newspapers containing serialized installments of it too. Theodore Roosevelt even called Tolstoy a-” 

His enthusiasm was beyond endearing. You finished for him with a soft smile, "Sexual moral pervert.”

Spencer’s lips upturned in a smile. It was rare somebody in the office could finish his sentences. And he couldn’t help but replay the crass words being said in your soft voice. He felt a crush hijacking his system already. Dear god.  

“Most people don’t recognize it in the original Russian.”  Spencer heard you say. 

“Most people probably wouldn’t recognize it in English.” he retorted.

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re right.” 

Spencer wasn’t even kidding. “I’m not joking.” He shook his head. “It’s unfortunate how many people aren’t even vaguely familiar with Tolstoy.” 

“It is.” you agreed. “You went to Caltech, correct?” 

He smiled, “Yes.” 

“I almost did too. Decided last minute on Columbia.” 

“You went to Columbia?” he asked. 

“I just graduated.” 

“How old are you?” he asked before quickly correcting himself,  “I’m sorry! That was forward! I am not...I’m not trying to undermine your studies with your age, I promise. I’m just curious.” 

“No! It’s okay!” You got out fast. “I’m 19. I graduated high school a little bit early.” 

“Me too.” He smiled. “12, actually.” 

Your eyes went wide, “12?” 

“Yes, um, in a Las Vegas public high school.” He winced, but the self-deprecation somehow came out charming, “I uh,” His eyes narrowed, “didn’t go to a lot of parties.” 

That made you wholeheartedly laugh. “Me neither! I graduated at 15, which you know is the age everybody else starts. It created a really weird dynamic because the older kids in my grade didn’t like me, but the underclassmen my age really didn’t like me.” 

Instead of the laugh you were expecting, Spencer just gave you a pensive stare. 

“Um..I can’t see why. I think you’re very likeable.” The compliment would’ve been strange exchanged by anybody other than Spencer to you.

  “Wait till you get to know me.” You said it through a smile but so softly you were afraid he might not be able to hear it, but he did. 

And that was confirmed when he flashed you the most incredible, toothy grin you’d ever seen. “I uh, I doubt there will be any change in opinion.” 

“Well, um, I’m sure- I think! You’re very likeable as well Dr. Reid.” you said. 

“That’s what you say now.” He retorted in the same coy tone you had earlier. 

You shook your head, “You’ll find I can be insufferably stubborn.” 

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

After two weeks, there was little Spencer could do to hide his massive crush affinity for you from the team. 

In the bullpen: 

You guys had locked eyes and were mouthing out exchanged of No’s and Yes’s from across the room. There was an ongoing half-serious dispute about whether or not Xanthippe slept with Plato. 

Morgan glided in his wheeled chair to whisper into Spencer’s ear. 

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.” He said, shoving files into the cabinet below Reid’s desk. 

“I’m..I’m not.. I--what? Bedr--No!” Reid whisper-shouted back. 

On the jet: 

“Reid?” Gideon called Spencer, “Chess?” He motioned towards the board. 

“Yes, sure. Just give me a second. I’m almost done. I’m reading Infinite Jest. I don’t usually enjoy literature if it isn’t classic, even less so if it’s American. But..” Spencer smiled, “Y/N likes the author.”  He continued his fast-paced reading of the third-to-last chapter of the book. 

Morgan and Gideon exchanged glances. 

Even in front of you: 

You opened a sugar packet and began stirring. 

“De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium is still some of the best work on  heliocentric theory out there, I think. Copernicus knew what he was talking about!” You spun on your heels to see Reid’s face contorted in disagreement. You giggled, “Don’t give me that face! I’m right!” 

He took a sip of his coffee as to keep himself quiet. “Listen, cosmological theory is for…” 

But the pair of you were interrupted, it was Elle, standing behind you and in front of Spencer. 

“New skirt?” Elle asked as you turned, back now facing Reid.  She was pouring herself a cup of coffee too.

“Yes!” You excitedly nodded. “You like it?” 

Elle looked up and down, but not at you. The judgmental eyes were for the man behind you. She pursed her lips, “Not just me.” 

The only face redder than yours was Reid’s.

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

Nights spent in a bar after a case that had dragged on far too long was nothing new, but the energy tonight was especially light. Gideon had refused, but everybody else was just relaxed, even Hotch, and the team just got happier at each other's happiness. It was great, really. As Hotch and Morgan sipped on whiskey, JJ and Penelope had already downed four sugary, colorful cocktails and were in a whispered fit of giggles. Elle and Spencer settled on a tamer option of an IPA Spencer couldn’t name. 

“SPENCER!” Penelope excitedly shouted, “Y/N is literally you! You’re both adorable! You’re both geniuses! You’re both young!” She drew on her rant, “And if you have a crush on her you should just tell her!” JJ’s eyes widened in embarrassment as she tried to cover Penelope’s mouth. 

Morgan and Elle erupted in soft laughter while Hotch cracked an uncharacteristically amused smile. 

“Spence, I swear, I didn’t say that! I just...I may have mentioned how happy you get every time she’s around! And how you guys can talk for literally hours!” JJ defended, her words slurring in silly drunkenness. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time they teased him about you, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time either. 

“I don’t have a crush on her! We just….we like the same things! It gives us a lot to talk about.” 

“Yeah?” Morgan said through a laugh, “And what is it that boy and girl wonder talk about so much?” 

“Well, uh.. a lot of things. But I find she gets the most excited when we are discussing the theories of postmodernism, in that apparent realities are actually just social constructs and veritable realities are subject to change, and uh... we like to talk about linguistics….political philosophy….history... mathematic theory...and uh, oh! Doctor Who.” 

Spencer was blushing and spoke about you like a teenage girl did their boyband crush, and the team noticed. They didn’t even need to say it out loud. Spencer gathered from the way they looked back at him. 

“I heard she lent you a book too, Reid.” Hotch said before taking a sip from his glass. 

“Yes! She did!” He smiled, “It was her copy of Pale Fire. She has an impressive collection of 19th century Russian literature. All in its original dialect! Some of it’s even annotated, which usually would annoy me but since it’s her thoughts and notes I sort of find it endearing.” 

“Dr. Reid is endeared!” Greenaway shrieked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pushing his glasses up a little higher on his nose, “I find her incredibly endearing.” 

“Y’all that sounded like a dorky love confession.” Morgan said as the team erupted in laughter and Reid’s head fell in a smile. There was no point in denying it anymore: He really, really liked you.

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

Within two months, you and Spencer had finally put your shyness aside, and spent a very lovely evening at watching an orchestra at the Smithsonian Music,  and sharing noodles at your favorite Thai restaurant. And then you guys spent some time on your couch. And then in your bed. And then in the shower. And then in the kitchen. You were both very sexually frustrated. 

For the following two months, as soon as you both stepped out of the office, it was very, very hard to keep your hands off each other. Could either of you help it though? Teenage geniuses don’t experience parties, or football games, or clumsy sex. The time was perfect to make up for it. 

And you guys did. The sex part at least. “Football involves a lot of dirt. And germs. And sweat.”

“Oh my god!” you shrieked. His hands were in a place they found themselves more and more often: Your pants. 

“Does it feel good?” he asked, continuing his pattern of small circles on that particular bundle of nerves. 

“It feels great.” You nodded. 

“I uh, I’ve been researching the female anatomy.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded your head, but trying to focus on your boyfriends newfound intellect. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” 

He watched your undoing with boyish adoration and curiosity before swallowing, “Very.” 

“Oh fuck!” Your legs began to shake, “Spencee...I’m gonn--” 

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

You and Spencer just understood each other. 

#drspencerreid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #criminalminds #reid criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #Spencerreid #spencer reid reader insert #spencer x y/n #reid x reader #spencer reid #professor reid x reader #professor reid #season1 reid

[tooktheladdedgbtq]

....and the Oscar goes to.. | Tom Holland X Male!actor reader. 

A/N: this was just something I wrote because I got inspired I guess. Happy Pride everyone!

——————————————

You couldn’t decide whether time was slipping through your fingers too quickly or if this had been the longest night you’d ever experienced.

seconds slowed to a crawl while you tried to gather yourself before it was your turn to take the stage. You were nervous. Not about being at the oscars or presenting for the first time. Not even about being nominated for your leading role in the second installment of a critically acclaimed trilogy. No, you’d been used to these sorts of things, you’d been an actor since you were a very young kid. Starting on television before film, and you even got to hold the Emmy the show had won when you had just turned a teenager.

No, you were nervous about who exactly you’d be presenting to. Of the five nominees and potential winners, only one could cause such an intensive feeling in your chest. Only one could awaken a sense of dread that battled with a feeling of intensive happiness mixed with anticipation, and it was Tom.

You’d known each other for years and had come to fall in love. You’d met as young co-stars on set and eventually grew into an inseparable friendship that progressed into something far more. Neither of you were sure when the feelings started but it felt like they’d always been there and you weren’t exactly complaining.

Your blissfulness with Tom was beautiful but short lived. After almost a year of being official you both agreed to take a break from the relationship. Unbeknownst to Tom you were just agreeing to save face and hadn’t pried for an answer out of fear of being hurt. You just accepted that this was how things were now, and took a step back.

You’d still kept in contact with him. It was hard not to. He was still your best friend. But whether it was the business of work or something a little more awkward, distance grew between you both as the multi-hour long facetime calls and text threads became once-a-week check-ins to just make sure you were alive and okay.

Time had passed, and you didn’t have a clue what you could possibly say to him now. You certainly didn’t want to ruin his special night. But you’d missed him so much and felt like you would implode at the first sign that he’d be interested in getting back together with you. But you also didn’t want to seem desperate or needy if he’d moved on. You didn’t want to slip and say those three words again in the moment.

Father time showed you no mercy as the sand in his hourglass suddenly shifted from a slow-motion drip to a flood. The seconds you’d spent daydreaming of your past with Tom and pondering about the your potential future had passed and left you with little time to gather yourself before presenting. still you shook your hands, arms, and lastly shoulders, putting all your worries aside and waited for introduction from the host.

Before long you’d been counted in to walking on stage, and heard the host over the microphone. “Ladies and Gentlemen, to present the award and introduce the nominees for Best Supporting Actor, please welcome one of this year’s nominees and one of our generation’s greatest talents: Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The applause erupts from the audience like a revved up engine as you took center but it was nothing compared to the standing ovation you’d receive later on that night when receiving your own award for Best Actor.

You were stood promptly center staged with the towering Oscar statue reflecting onto the black stage floor beneath your feet. Your outfit was alluring and would surely be the next hot topic which is rare for male stars. You looked like a million bucks. Everyone knew it, most of all, Tom.

You smile and wave as you approach the microphone, your teeth shining a blinding white, and wait for a hush from the crowd.

You chuckle lightly as a few hoots and hollers sound out as the cheers subside.

You eye the monitor across the room and start to read, your nerves dying down as your jokes land and laughter echoes around the room.

As you finish the introduction, clips start to show behind you to accompany the names of the nominees as the cameras catch a glimpse of each of their reactions.

You couldn’t help but notice how tough the competition was as each actor was called. Steven Yuen playing a detective in a thrilling murder mystery. John David Washington in a fictional film playing the world’s first black astronaut aiding in the discovery of lovecraftian horrors. Andrew Garfield for his role as a psychotic narcissist and genius businessman. Oscar Issac acting in a sci fi space opera asking questions of existentialism.

Finally, you had to withhold your smile as you called out the last name. He had returned to his Billy Elliot roots being nominated for his role in a astonishing musical romance film. “Tom Holland.” You’d been ecstatic when he’d told you about it as you’d always recommend he tried it again since it made him so happy in his younger years.

You spot him a few rows from the stage, making eye contact with him and wondering if he was thinking about you the way you had done with him earlier. You couldn’t help but notice him squirming in his chair and fidgeting with his hands. Selfishly asking yourself if this wasn’t just about the award but about having you present it to him.

Seeing you here after what felt like an eternity apart and your reunion potentially being the greatest achievement of both your careers. Making it the greatest night of your lives, that is, if you were still together. But you were still best friends. That’s what mattered. So you push your self centered thoughts aside and shoot him a small wave that he returns with a smile and thumbs up. letting you know he was okay and that you could continue as the camera pans back to you capturing your not so hidden giddiness.

This awarded some small oos and aahs from the crowd as your relationship with him had been a wholly celebrated one. especially among your marvel peers.

You’re handed an envelope and statue as the music ends and the applause dies down and you take one final glare into the camera before beginning to open the envelope.

“....and the Oscar goes to,” you take a peek at the crowd and see some of the nominees holding hands with loved ones. others plainly

awaiting your next words with bated breath. The anticipation shone on everyone’s faces. Even those that weren’t nominated. Your not-so-hidden grin giving away the answer mere milliseconds before his name escaped your lips. “Tom Holland!”

Tom shot up with a shared expression of shock and happiness on his face. Pecking his mother on the cheek as she wipes the tears of pride from her eyes. His best mate Harrison gives him a quick embrace and a pat on the back before he moves on to shake hands with the director and smile at everyone cheering him on as he gradually moves toward the stage still completely baffled at the victory.

As he walks towards you in his pink pastel colored suit and brown leather dress shoes you can’t help but swell with an overwhelming feeling of joy having been here to share this career defining moment with him. You thought about how far you’d both come to get here and almost started tearing up remembering all you’d been through together.

He skipped up the miniature steps and blanketed you with both arms. You didn’t want it to end as you hadn’t felt it in a while. You threw your arms around his neck and he tightens his hold around your torso. Before you could even process them, your blunt thoughts spill out as whispers.

“I’m so incredibly proud of you. you deserve this and so much more.” you hear a small chuckle escape him as he responds. “I am trying not to cry y’know mate?” a wolf whistle comes from the crowd as you apologize for being so sappy and before he can tell you off for it you hand him his award and shove him off toward the microphone.

As he takes center stage you stand off to the side to watch him give his acceptance speech. He pauses and takes a second to gather himself before he starts talking straight from his heart with nothing prepared.

“Um, Wow. I really can’t believe this is really happening and I probably still won’t believe it happened tomorrow. Just.. wow.” his words were filled with that charmingly British accent you’d come to love so much.

“First I would like to thank my mother, without whom of course, I would not be here. I would like to thank the academy and everyone who worked on this movie from the producers and camera men, make-up and costumes, to our wonderful writers, composer, back up dancers and vocalists, and of course my friends, my co-star and the director Damien Chazelle.” whom he gestures to sitting in the second row. “I share this with all of you and I can’t thank you enough for awarding me with the opportunity to create something I love so much.”

He thanks the other nominees before turns towards you to end his speech. you felt your heart in your hands when you saw his big brown puppy eyes dart in your direction with an intensive glare of admiration.

“last but most importantly, I want to thank the inspiration for all of the love songs I sung in the film and the reason I decided to take the role. The person standing here on my right.”

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen when his words hit you like a speeding semi. you realize that he’d just called you his muse in so many words. the inspiration behind the love songs in the film no less. Meaning that with every lovestruck note his character sung he was reminded of you. All that time spent worrying if the distance between you two would cause him to forget about you, or if he’d maybe moved on and found somebody else. But no such thing had happened. He was relating his character’s longing in the film to his longing for you this entire time and that made your heart do a backflip.

You blush and cover your still ajar mouth with your fist whilst trying not to pay attention to the crowd who’s attention was fully focused on you.

He takes a deep sigh before continuing. “Y/N you’re not only the reason I took this role, but you’re the reason I was able to play it with such sincerity. You’ve been a unwavering beacon of support throughout my career in general but here you really gave me the inspiration for something special. He faces the audience again as the all follow his words with whispers of how adorable you both were. “from reading lines together in the middle of the night, to keeping me company when i’m on the brink of a meltdown.” It was all true and it only made you miss you relationship more and you found it difficult to hold back your tears.

“Y/N is the kind of best friend everybody needs, the kind of partner everybody deserves, and the person I’m so incredibly lucky to have known for so long. ..and I still can’t believe he never figured out the lyrics were all about him, It was kind of obvious-” the audience laughed you’re so close to swooning as he turns toward you again. “But, with all my heart, I love you, Y/N. Always will.” you feel as if you’re floating.

He shifts to the crowd one last time to say a final thank you before you both walk off stage one arm around one another’s shoulders. You have a short but sweet conversation backstage with him where reassures you that everything he said on stage was true and completely unscripted. He wants to talk more but knows your category is coming soon so he asks for a later opportunity and you agree before returning to your seat in the crowd.

The rest of the night flew by with you winning the award for best actor and receiving the biggest applause of the night. Tom joined in the standing ovation. You thanked everybody involved in making the film, the academy, and squeezed a little joke directed towards Tom that garnered a shared laugh from both him and the audience. You were the last award of the night and after the celebrations it was time to return to your place, where Tom was waiting for you. Wanting to talk about everything that had happened not just tonight but everything leading up to it. He also hoped you’d kept a spot open in your heart for him to return to.

#tom holland x you #tom holland x male reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland gay imagine #tom holland x male! reader #tom holland fanfiction

[hrtiu]

Boba/Fennec prompt: Boba really likes Fennec's hair (or her fingers, or some other, very specific part of her body, whatever you like) and can't stop touching/admiring/playing with it, and she goes from confused that he cares so much about that part to irritated that he Won't Leave Her Alone to embarrassed that he's paying so much frakking attention to her ((to realizing she likes it)) to secretly being endeared by his cuteness. Bonus points if she blushes a lot because of all this and he likes that too ;)

Thanks for the prompt! I think I ended up with something probably a bit angstier than you were thinking, but hopefully you'll still enjoy it! AO3 link.

Every morning Fennec Shand sat down in front of her burnished chromium mirror and did her hair. She started with the main braid down the center of her head, then wove together three smaller braids to either side. Once she’d tied off each individual braid, she plaited all seven together into a dark, twisting tail that reached almost to her waist. Then she took a long string of orange-red fiber and threaded it between the braids at the top of her head, tying them down and securing her bangs as flat against her scalp as possible.

“Why do you always have your hair like that?” Boba asked one morning when she came down for breakfast in Old Jabba’s palace.

“I don’t know. Why is your hair always like that?” Fennec said, helping herself to a generous slice of bantha bacon.

Boba let out a gruff laugh and shook his head. “It must take forever.”

Fennec stabbed her bacon with unnecessary force. “I don’t do it when I’m on an assignment, and beyond that I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

Boba didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Fennec wondered if maybe he was going to apologize. If he did she’d probably die of shock.

“Hmm,” he grunted, then returned his attention to his breakfast.

It was the reaction Fennec expected, but she found herself both relieved and annoyed. Shaking the contradictory emotions away, she finished her breakfast.

---

Living on Tatooine wasn’t all enforcing Boba’s will and collecting tribute. Boba was a benevolent warlord, and Fennec especially enjoyed being a part of his more generous impulses.

Most recently he’d bequeathed a chunk of his land to a tribe of Tuskens who’d cooperated well with him in the past. The Tuskens saw it as Boba returning the land to them, but regardless, they were going to be its permanent, uncontested tenants. Most of the Tusken Raiders Fennec had met seemed to enjoy their nomadic lifestyle, but this tribe was interested in putting down roots—so long as they could do it on their terms. As a show of good faith, Boba was donating three large moisture vaporators and a system for water storage to the village, and Fennec had been looking forward to the day of their installation for months.

Tribespeople clustered around the massive spires dug into the packed earth beneath the dunes, talking amongst themselves and asking questions to the mechanic who’d come up from Mos Eisley to install the thing. The poor translator Boba had dragged along was working doubletime to sort through the confusion.

Fennec stood next to Boba above the dug-out space, just a little outside of the cluster of activity. She wasn’t here to do much besides reinforce Boba’s involvement in the donation of the generators, but she was enjoying herself nonetheless. A small child whose face wrapping kept coming untucked approached the vaporator and turned the spigot, screeching in delight when clean water poured onto her outstretched hands. Fennec couldn’t help but smile.

A group of young Tusken women approached them, their hoods draped over their faces and ornamental collars jangling against their cloaks as they walked. They thanked Boba in sign language, and he signed back his appreciation with short, stilted hand motions. They giggled at his discomfort with their language, and Boba’s scarred face reddened.

“Great,” he grumbled to Fennec. “I knew that protocol droid wasn’t teaching me right.”

“Calm down,” Fennec said, resting a hand on Boba’s arm. “You’re doing fine. Just let them enjoy themselves.”

Boba frowned, but the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned into her touch, and Fennec felt light and warm.

The girls turned their attention to Fennec, and her contentment turned to unease. One of them pointed to Fennec’s braid and made a twisting motion with her hands, bringing her fingers together as her wrist turned. The other nodded in agreement, adding in a few giggles for good measure.

“Oh, um…” Fennec stuttered, unsure how to respond.

“They’re saying it’s pretty,” the translator from Mos Eisley said, hurrying up the steep hill towards them. “She says your hair is pretty.”

“Ah,” Fennec said. Heat rose in her cheeks, and her tongue felt thick in her mouth. Boba snorted and smirked at her, and she shot him a quick glare before smiling back at the girls. “Thank you, that’s very kind.”

The translator signed Fennec’s response back to them, and they nodded and made gestures of thanks to Boba and Fennec before retreating back to where their tribe clustered around the vaporators.

“So they’re allowed to talk about your hair, but I’m not?” Boba asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Fennec said, already heading for the steep slope that would take her down to the rest of the tribespeople. They’d be eating dinner soon, and it wouldn’t do for her and Boba to be late to the table.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t need to make sense,” Fennec said. “It’s just what I want.”

Boba rolled his eyes but followed Fennec down the slope, his steps awkward and careful on the slippery sand.

“Always what you want,” she thought she heard him mutter under his breath, but that could have been the whisper of the winds against the sand.

---

“Shand! We’re going to be late!” Boba yelled at Fennec through the thick door of her room.

His booming voice startled her, and one of her fingers slipped before she was able to tie off the last of her individual braids. “Dammit,” she muttered. “I’m coming!”

“I’m not going to look weak in front of Kanjiklub because you couldn’t stop fiddling with your hair,” he said.

The corners of Fennec’s mouth turned downwards and she saw her own eyes flash in the mirror. “We’re not going to be late. Calm down.”

His boots thudded heavily against the floor as he paced back and forth in front of her door. Fennec’s frown morphed into a full-blown scowl and she made sure to take extra care to get her braid right, taking her time with each knot. Boba needed to learn patience, and he needed to learn that she wasn’t some massiff he could train to do his bidding.

She finished up the braid then moved on to weaving the orange thread around each cord, laser-focused on her task but unhurried in execution.

Boba’s fist pounded on the door once more. “If you don’t hurry it up I’m going to cut off that damned braid myself!”

Fennec froze. She pressed her lips together and stood from her chair, leaving her hair weaving half-finished. She stalked to her bed, pulling her boots and coat off as she did so, then fell into her thick, fluffy blankets.

“...Fen?” Boba asked through the door, though this time his voice was softer—almost chastened.

Fennec held her wrist comm up to her mouth and messaged Dilick Wa, the other bounty hunter Boba kept on retainer at the palace.

“Wa? You there?” she said.

“Yep. What’s up?”

“Meet Boba on the landing pad. You’ll be going with him to meet Kanjiklub tonight.”

“...But weren’t you going-?”

“Just do it.”

She shut off the coms.

---

Lights flickered by for every floor they sank underground, each beam illuminating the red-tan-and-white of Boba’s scarred features. Normally Fennec didn’t like being underground, but on Florrum she might be willing to make an exception. Relief from the unrelenting heat and sulfur-infused dust was worth the loss of adequate sniper perches, in her opinion.

“So,” Boba said. “Arawat Ragistar. Anything else you can you tell me about him?”

Fennec forced a shrug. “Like I said: he’s an assassin. He has plenty of other skills, too. He’s tricky and dangerous, but in general he’ll stick to his word if you pin him to specific commitments.”

Boba nodded slowly. “How is he as a business partner?”

“Wouldn’t know. I only knew him as an assassin.” A heavy pause filled the space between them, and several more floors passed in silence.

“He’s a real bastard,” Fennec said, and she wondered if it was some strange trick of the senses that made her voice sound several decades younger to her ears.

“I know you don’t like him, but we need good connections on Florrum.”

“I know.”

The lift slowly came to a stop, and Fennec tensed as the doors opened. A shiny protocol droid welcomed them into the bare, utilitarian bunker that served as Arawat’s headquarters, and they followed it through a series of round vault-style doors. The final door was bigger than the rest, and it opened on a broad audience chamber, at the end of which sat a sleight, waspish Sullustan. Her old mentor.

“The great Boba Fett!” Arawat said, throwing his arm wide, “Welcome! And Little Fennec, you’ve come back home!”

Fennec nodded her head in response, biting back a bitter response. That was what he was fishing for, after all.

“Arawat Ragistar, thank you for having me,” Boba said, moving to sit in the plush chairs across from Arwat’s restrained setup. “You’re not an easy man to find.”

“Of course not,” Arawat said. “What good assassin would be easy to find? Isn’t that right, Little Fennec?”

Fennec pursed her lips. “Right.”

“We’re interested in bringing some of our import routes through Florrum,” Boba said. “It could be profitable for the both of us.”

“Now Fennec Shand, on the other hand. That’s a name I’ve heard of,” Arawat said, as if he hadn’t heard Boba at all. “‘Best assassin in the galaxy,’ I’ve heard. Of course, if anything I’d taught her had sunken in, she’d know that the best assassin is the one you’ve never heard of.”

Boba’s jaw clicked—a tiny motion Fennec doubted most anyone else would notice. “I’m not sure how that’s relevant to our arrangement.”

Arawat leaned forward over his knees and threaded his fingers together, and Fennec’s own stone face stared back at her in the mirror reflection of his shiny black eyes.

“It’s vanity, you know? Pure vanity,” he said, his voice silky smooth. “Like that hair. Do you know how many times I told her to cut it? There is no tactical advantage to long hair—not a single one. The only reason to keep it is vanity, pure and simple. ”

Fennec stared back at him, refusing to look away. Boba had fallen silent at her side, but she hardly noticed him any more in her peripheral vision. She was back 35 years in the past, her reflexes sharp and her body lean, but her spirit broken.

“Couldn’t quite get all the Chandrila out of her after all-”

“We’re through here,” Boba cut Arawat off, standing to his feet.

Arawat finally turned his attention to Boba, his jowls flapping excitedly around his cheeks. “What? But we were-”

“We’ll bring our goods through some other way. Thank you.”

Boba turned to leave and Fennec followed after him, her jumbled thoughts struggling to right themselves as she kept up with his assertive pace. The protocol droid started leading them back, but Boba brushed past him, retracing their steps to the lift with ease. Arawat didn’t follow.

The lift opened for them and Fennec followed Boba in, holding her tongue until the doors sealed shut.

“Are you crazy? We need his cooperation,” Fennec hissed as the lift zoomed upwards. Her eyes darted to the corners of the lift, searching for the holo cameras she knew must be somewhere.

Boba bristled. “I’m Boba Fett. I don’t need anybody except-” He shut his mouth. “We don’t need anybody.”

The lights from the lift illuminated his face at regular intervals, but the open emotion he’d shown down below was gone. Back was his stoic warrior’s face, the one she’d grown to respect but couldn’t fully trust.

“Fine,” Fennec said after a weighty pause. “Mustafar should work, anyway.”

“Mustafar?” Boba asked incredulously.

“Just get a few heat-resistant vehicles and you’re golden. That hostile environment is its own security.”

Boba grunted in agreement, and the lift continued upward. They fell into a companionable silence, and though the tension in Fennec’s shoulders gradually fell, she still ran her fingers nervously up and down the end of her braid.

---

The last time Fennec had been to Naboo it had been for a hit. The beauty of the planet hadn’t been lost on her at the time, but the elegant promenades and magnificent waterfalls didn’t look quite the same through a scope. This time she and Boba were here for a business deal and she had a chance to truly appreciate Theed’s splendor.

She leaned against the stone balustrade bordering the balcony and closed her eyes, letting the faint mist from a nearby waterfall gather on her face. Heavy footsteps sounded behind her, but they were the comforting, familiar gait of her partner, and she paid them no heed.

“Hiram agreed to our terms,” Boba said from her side. “Production can start next month.”

“Hmmmm,” Fennec hummed. “Sounds good.” They’d thought negotiations would last longer. That gave them three whole days to relax before their shuttle was scheduled to depart.

The breathtaking vista before them occupied all of Fennec’s thoughts. In the distance threads of water laced their way down verdant green cliff sides, and elegant copper-colored buildings stood above the cliffs like sentinels on watch. The waterfall closest to their villa roared as thousands of gallons toppled over the edge every second, and Fennec could feel the power of it through her feet and into her bones. She closed her eyes in appreciation. Beauty and power—the ultimate combination.

Boba leaned on the balustrade next to her, bringing him into her orbit. “I ordered dinner,” he said.

Fennec hummed again. Dinner in their private villa overlooking the waterfalls sounded perfect.

Boba stepped to the side then his warm breadth was at Fennec’s back, enveloping her like a thick cloak. She tensed, her instincts screaming at her to bolt. But maybe this time, she didn’t want to run away.

With a sigh Boba rested his chin on Fennec’s shoulder and his hot breath tickled at the loose strands of hair that had escaped their bindings by her ear. She shivered.

Boba leaned further into her and rested his cheek against the side of her head. He took a long, slow breath in and turned his face more towards her, his nose catching slightly against her braids as he moved his head up and down in what could only be described as a nuzzle.

Fennec’s breath caught in her throat. “Boba…”

“Easy,” he murmured. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

Fennec couldn’t help a soft snort at that. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Maybe,” he said, his breath heavy and thick in her ear. “But I don’t usually have a chance to relax and enjoy it.”

His hands slid up to her arms and he pulled her gently backwards, stepping behind them until he reached a plush daybed set near the back of the balcony. He sat down and she went with him, allowing herself to be tugged into his lap.

She didn’t think. She just let her senses bask in his warmth, in his sturdy, fierce presence. She reclined against his front, her ear pressed up to his unarmored chest. His heartbeat thudded clear and strong against her cheek—a steady, constant presence she was only just realizing how much she cherished. He rested his chin on top of her head and held her loosely around the waist.

Water tumbled over the cliffs of Theed and time passed, but Fennec didn’t notice either. All she felt was an unfamiliar sense of peace and security. Maybe, after all these years, she wasn’t broken after all.

“...We could always extend our stay,” Boba said, his voice a gravelly rumble through his chest.

“Hmmm.” Fennec closed her eyes and let her fingers cling to the fabric of his tunic.

“Or visit other planets. Maybe even go to Chandrila.”

The distant blare of alarm bells sounded in Fennec’s mind, but she did her best to ignore them. It was nothing. She was fine. She was at peace, and she trusted Boba.

“I’ve never been there before,” Boba continued. “You could show me around.”

The alarm bells shrieked, and the peace shattered.

Fennec hauled herself out of Boba’s lap. She stepped back to the edge of the balcony and ordered herself not to look back. It was colder now, but the chill was familiar. “We should leave as we planned. I need to check in with our supplier in Mos Eisley.”

“Fen, come on-”

“I think I’ll call it a night.” There was a courtyard of space between her room and Fett’s, but maybe she’d stay someplace else for the night.

Boba got to his feet and followed her across the balcony, but he made no move to touch her. “You wear Chandrilan braids every day. You can’t tell me you hate the place-”

Fennec rounded on him. “I may be in your service, but that does not mean I have to tell you anything about my personal life.”

Boba grabbed her by the wrist, the snarl he usually reserved for his enemies rising to his lips. “Shand, can we leave the carbonite bitch act behind for once?”

Fennec wrenched her arm from his grasp and shoved him back. “Touch me again and I’ll kill you.”

She whirled around and fled the balcony, making first for her room before turning instead towards the villa’s entrance. How far away could she get for the night? It might be an interesting challenge to see.

---

She came back the next morning. She was a professional, and she trusted Boba to understand the line he’d crossed. And just as she’d expected, he didn’t mention anything about the previous night’s blowup. Two days later they returned to Tatooine, and life continued the same as ever.

Boba’s business ventures on Tatooine were actually fairly legitimate. He built up the local economy, gave loans to entrepreneurial spirits, increased imports and exports exponentially, cracked down vigorously on (unsanctioned) crime, and generally made the miserable ball of dirt and sand that was Tatooine a more tolerable place to exist. That being said, nobody could be successful in the Outer Rim while working completely above board.

Which was why it came as no surprise when the Hutts sent assassins after him for co-opting a chunk of their spice territory.

Fennec squeezed off another round from her perch on one of the palace’s domes and allowed herself a smirk of satisfaction as the target dropped.

“Last intruder down,” she said into her comm.

“Good job,” Boba said from his safe room below. “Let’s give it a half hour to see if anyone else crops up. Then regroup in my study.”

“Copy that.”

Fennec waited patiently in her perch, her sharp eyes staring through the scope for any sign of additional assailants. She was reasonably confident she’d dispatched them all, though, given the size of their transport and typical Pyke Syndicate strategies. Fennec snorted to herself. The Hutts must be really strapped for cash if they were resorting to hiring Pykes.

After the allotted time had passed with no sign of other hostiles, Fennec climbed down from her perch and made her way to Boba’s rooms. Boba was neither sentimental nor high-maintenance, but the comforts of the past few years had led to him accumulating a certain amount of personal belongings to display in his quarters. Mandalorian relics, his father’s old helmet, a Clone Wars-era DC-17—that sort of thing. Fennec walked past his mementos and met him at his armchair near the back of the study.

“All clear?” he asked, looking up from a datapad streaming updates from his security system.

“As far as I can tell. Hutt enforcement really isn’t what it used to be,” she said.

“Not the only thing around here that’s getting rusty, it seems,” a soft voice hissed behind her ear.

Fennec’s eyes widened and she twisted around, but before she could move a cold, slimy hand had her by the hair and a vibroblade pressed up against her gut.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Arawat’s hateful voice whispered near her ear. “Little Fen still has so much to learn. What did I tell you about our work? The best assassins are unseen.”

Fennec’s heart seized in her chest and with each breath her stomach pressed against the vibroblade. For now it was cutting through her coat, but soon enough it would be her skin.

“You might want to rethink your position,” Boba said, slowly rising to his feet. “There are two of us and only one of you. One way or another, you’re not getting out of here alive.”

“Ah haha, the mighty Boba Fett. You know, if you were your father I would be afraid right now. Old Jango wouldn’t hesitate to let a subordinate die to get ahead in a fight. But you’re not like that, are you?” Arawat said. With each word his fleshy jowls slid along Fennec’s neck, making her skin crawl.

Boba bared his teeth and the divots and crevasses of his scars almost turned his expression inhuman. “Care to test that theory?”

“Yes, I think I do,” Arawat said. “Put your weapons down, or I’ll gut her like a fish.” The blade pressed further into her stomach, drawing the tiniest sliver of blood.

Boba met Fennec’s gaze, and an understanding passed between them. Something Fennec had always known somewhere in the back of her mind came to the forefront, and she set her jaw. She trusted Boba. She trusted him more than she’d ever trusted another living person. She trusted him more than she trusted herself.

She didn’t know what he was going to do, but something in his eyes told her to prepare. She slowed her breathing, diminishing the blade’s contact with her flesh, and moved her hand just the slightest distance closer to the vibroblade she always kept tucked into her belt.

Boba moved to disarm himself, one hand going slowly for his blaster while the other stayed up and opened for Arawat to see. Then the thrusters of his jetpack activated, and he barreled right into Arawat and Fennec.

For several chaotic, terrifying moments, Fennec’s world was a tangle of clattering metal, unidentified limbs, and confused violence. Somehow, Arawat managed to maintain his vice like grip on her braid, and while momentum threatened to pull them apart, Arawat held onto her hair with a vicious tenacity. When they landed in a heap on the other side of the room, he yanked her to him again. Boba made a lunge for Arawat’s blade, but he wasn’t going to be fast enough. Fennec needed to get away. As she was, she was a liability.

She pulled the vibroblade from her belt and cut behind her, severing the thick braid right at the base of her skull. She flung herself away from her old teacher, and by the time she looked back Boba had already shot the Sullustant in the chest.

Arawat Ragistar was dead, and she and Boba Fett were both alive. It was a win.

She lay panting on the floor, her heart racing and blood still oozing from her side. As the adrenaline faded, her awareness tunnelled on the length of coiled black hair still hanging from Arawat’s limp hand where he slumped against the wall.

Strong arms pulled her to her feet and inspected the cut to her side, but Fennec hardly noticed.

“Hey,” Boba’s gruff voice cut through the haze. “Go see Pershing and get this stitched up. Then get some rest.”

She nodded numbly, then went to do as ordered.

---

Pershing gave her a few stitches, then added a thick bacta patch for good measure. Fennec didn’t feel anything, and Pershing’s complaints about not being a medical doctor and his demotion to glorified nurse slid easily in and out of her ears. Eventually he was done and her feet found their way back up to her rooms. She shut herself inside and sat down at her desk, her head feeling strange and floaty without the familiar weight of her braid.

Fennec stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face unchanged but somehow unrecognizable in its new frame. A soft knock sounded at the door, and she didn’t bother to shout the intruder off.

Careful footsteps sounded around her room, and Boba’s mangled face appeared above her in the mirror, the softness of his expression completely incongruous with his scarred visage.

Slowly, gently, without a word, he reached for her hair. He ran his fingers through their short, chopped length, sifting the strands carefully from side to side.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Fennec stared into his eyes through the reflection of the mirror, her body frozen in ice. Leaving her plenty of time to protest, Boba’s calloused fingers gathered up several hanks of hair from the crown of her head and started braiding. She’d never let anyone see her process before, but that didn’t stop him.

She barely had enough hair to reach the nape of her neck, but still he braided a short rope down the center of her head, then three smaller ones on each side. Then he picked the orange thread up from her desk and wove it between each braid, the extra support of the thread maintaining the seven braids’ integrity despite their length.

The last person to braid her hair for her had been her mother. Fennec could still remember the feeling of her thin, deft fingers in her hair, could still hear the sound of her soft, gentle voice cooing at her while she worked. She couldn’t remember her mother’s face, couldn’t remember her name, could hardly recall even the vaguest impression of what Chandrila was like. This memory was all she had left.

Fennec’s shoulders shook, and with a start she lifted a hand to her cheek and realized she was crying. The braids now completed, Boba let his hands fall to her shoulders, where their generous warmth helped hold her together.

Boba turned her chair around to face him and knelt down in front of her, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. “It will grow back. But even before then, you’ll still be beautiful.”

She turned around in her chair and slid her arms around him, burying her face into his stomach. He sank down to the floor and pulled her down with him, holding her and murmuring unintelligible sweet nothings as he stroked her hair.

“I don’t want anyone to see me like this,” she said, her voice raspy with tears.

“I’ll never let anyone see,” Boba said. “I’ll close my own eyes if it will help.”

Fennec chuckled, her body shaking against Boba’s solid torso. “No, I think it’s alright for you. But only you.”

“Hmmm,” Boba hummed. “It’s a deal, then.”

Fennec rolled over onto her back, then tugged Boba on top of her. “It’s a deal.” She threaded her fingers together behind his neck and pulled him down to her.

#bobannec #bobannec plague #boba fett x fennec shand #the mandalorian #writing #star wars #fennec shand #boba fett #ask #prompt

[whump-a-la-mode]

!: that classic collapse into someone’s waiting arms

Continuation for the villain from call me???

Whatever you write is great so this ⬆️ is just a suggestion.

I am a simple man. I look at a prompt. I write 1.3k words of fluffy nonsense. So this is a little bit off prompt, but it comes into play at the end! Thank you so much for your ask!

CW//Past trauma, refusal to eat

To say that Villain was a handful would be... well, it would be completely false.

Objectively, the former tormentor of the city was about as simple a ward as one could hope for, medical professional or not. Their needs were simple, their requests even more so.

When Hero’s time of laying low had at last expired, it had been a nerve-wracking affair for both them and Doctor. Despite the doctor’s welcoming hospitality, hiding in their apartment forever was simply not a tenable option. For one thing, it would put a target on the house bigger than the whole damn thing. And, for another, Hero had work to do. People to talk to, dots to connect.

Doctor wouldn’t pretend that they understood any of it. The politics of heroes and villains were far beyond their mind’s purview. They were a doctor. They took care of people-- that was their role in all of it, and it was the only role they were interesting in fulfilling.

And that was how Villain came into their care.

While Hero was in the home, they had occupied themself with the tending of their former nemesis in every way they could manage. They fed them, ensured they were clean, and spent half their day walking around the house with a nervous villain either in their arms or trailing close behind.

Thus, when the hero started spending most of the day outside the home, returning only in the evenings, it was... difficult.

The first two days had been spent watching Villain sit by the apartment’s front door like a canine, using their tablet only to say the same two things, often over and over again in rapid succession:

“Miss Hero.”

“Where Hero.”

“Where Hero miss Hero.”

“Where Hero.”

After those days, Doctor had at last managed to redirect them to a couch, once it had been moved and turned to show a clear view of the door. They needed to know when Hero got home, they said. Needed to greet them. To see them.

In front of the couch had been positioned the apartment’s television, though it was been very particularly placed as to allow the door to be viewed without issue. It was the only way that Villain had agreed to sit upon it. Not that they’d actually agreed, per se, they had simply stopped climbing off when Doctor lifted them onto it.

Now... that was where they were.

The doctor moved out of the kitchen, glancing to the corner of the apartment’s common space that had turned to the villain’s dayroom.

The television chattered with its unending noise. Villain never seemed to use the remote, even though it sat on the couch at their side. They watched whatever their caretaker put on, though they only switched it when the constant stream of the same noise became too grating to bear. At the moment, the screen displayed some action show-- characters in low lighting shouting over a forgettable macguffin.

Yesterday, it had been the shopping channel. The day before, the weather. Whatever it was, its watcher did not seem to mind. They had not requested the thing in the first place. Doctor had only installed it when the tugging on their heartstrings had grown too great, watching the hero’s heartbroken ward stare at that door, day in and day out.

And thus, Villain sat on the couch. From morning to evening, they would seat themself in the same position, unbroken by even the slightest twitching. If they had the option, they would have likely preferred to stay there. Stay by the door, so there would be no time wasted when Hero at last returned.

But, much to the villain’s chagrin, Doctor, too, was a resident of the apartment, and they knew that sorrowful longing was not a substitute for life.

Mealtimes were the most important.

Getting Villain to eat was a hell of its own right. It was Hero’s idea, to imitate the Nutriblocks with something more appetizing. And, sure, it was easy with desserts. But getting them to eat real food? It seemed like a neverending fight. Thus far, their diet consisted of mashed potatoes, and, if they were feeling especially open-minded, unseasoned, ungarnished chicken.

They still got Nutriblocks. Not full ones, but handfuls of the grey crap, which they wolfed down as though they were being starved. Hero’s awareness of this fact was... lacking, but they would never understand that, without the grey blocks, their ward would have long since began to wither away.

Doctor glanced back to the kitchen. Water boiled atop the stove, specks of salt bouncing from its bubbling surface. Dinner would be prepared soon, and, once again, they would have to coax the potatoes down their ward’s throat.

But, the tubers would take ages to soften. There was plenty of time to wait around.

“Villain?” The doctor moved with slow, even steps towards the couch. The villain’s gaze, they noted, had been fixed on the door instead of the television. When they were called they looked over blearily. “How are you doing?”

“Where Hero.” The tablet chattered. “Miss Hero.”

“Yeah. I know you miss them, bud. But they’re out meeting with Teammate, okay? They’ll be back this evening. They always come back.”

Villain frowned stubbornly.

“Hero back. Hero back.”

“In a bit, okay?”

Doctor did their best to talk to the one who they took care of. Between their own activities, they made the time to make conversation. To try to ease their loneliness.

Villain hated it. They knew that. Villain hated them. They were the one who hauled them away from the door, who forced them to look at things other than its solid wood paneling.

They hated the exercises, relearning to use their legs, to walk, to use their hands. They hated when the doctor urged them to make laps of the apartment’s floorspace-- a border collie nipping at the ankle of a sheep. The villain needed it. Doctor would not let the couch turn into their new prison.

And, for that, they were hated. It did not phase them too much; though it did phase them.

“When. When Hero.”

“Soon. Soon Hero. Dinner is almost ready, so it’s evening, and Hero comes home in the evening.”

The mention of mealtime made Villain’s countenance twist.

“Don’t want.”

“You need to eat.”

“Don’t want.”

“You’ll starve, Villain.”

“No. Want...” Their fingers wandered around the tablet’s screen. “White black.”

“White black?”

“White with black.”

“Hm...” Doctor had gotten quite skilled with the sort of verbal charades. “Grey?”

“Yes.” Though the tablet spoke in monotone, Villain’s expression provided all the excitement that was needed. “Want white black.”

The Nutriblock.

“You can’t just have that. You need something else. I made potatoes again, okay? Well, they’re still on the stove, but, you know what I mean. Will you eat those?”

“Don’t want.”

“Please?”

“Want white black.”

The doctor bit their lip in frustration.

“If you eat your potatoes, you can have some of that, okay?”

Villain frowned.

“Will you eat then?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god.” Doctor exhaled. “Okay, it’ll be ready in just a few. You, um- It looks like your show is getting to a good part. So, I’ll just...”

They stood, turning, before a familiar sound made them whirl around a second time.

A knock on the door.

“Hero Hero Hero Hero.” The tablet caterwauled.

The long suffering Doctor sighed, and felt relief in its most physical possible form. There was equal annoyance and pride as they watched Villain leap up from the couch-- a central goal of that day’s exercises-- and scramble to the door. Even as it nearly hit them with its swing, they seemed to pay no mind.

Hero was home.

There was an exhausted, nearly haunted look about their eyes, but that meant nothing when they saw their ward. As they always did, they swung their arms wide open, leaving Villain to stumble into them. With a single heave, their former enemy was held close to their chest, hugging them and burying their head into their chest.

Doctor smiled.

Villain may have been a handful, but, at the end of the day, it was worth it.

#call me #villain whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #hero caretaker #doctor caretaker #call me villain #hero villain whump

[bokutoslittlebird]

Dark Nights

King!Oikawa x assassin!prisoner!reader

Author’s Note : This is the request for a prisoner reader and king Oikawa Au which is literally spiraled into a series. I am not sorry ; Everything will come to a close once the 5th installment is completed ; the request had “torture” and I didn’t realize until halfway through that torture probably wasn’t what you meant, but you’re gonna have to be more specific of what you want because I saw it and went “oh, noncon and maybe some actual hitting.” So, sorry if that’s not what you wanted.

Warnings: death of a minor character [no name OC], blood, dagger, noncon, degradation, kicking, Oikawa gets violent, Iwaizumi turns a blind eye, chains and dungeons, fingering, creampie, no aftercare, choking

Over the river and past the glen stands Fukurōdani, Kingdom in the Mountains that is under the rule of King Bokuto. The ruthless king that stands amongst his army as the bravest and strongest warrior, with his queen Kaori at his side. Deep in the castle, past the kitchen and deep in the dungeons, there sits three people. Amongst those three is a woman clad in all black, a dagger in her hand and a rag in the other, swiping away dark droplets that drip to the concrete floor. Before them, a man without a tongue.

“So, King Oikawa is looking for his bride-to-be, which is why he dared to trespass into the Dark Forest?” A rough voice speaks, his large hand tapping at his chin. His eyes pop open as a thought appears in his head, golden eyes turning to bore into yours. His smile is cunning and terrifying, but you just stare at him. “Maybe someone should see if he got what he was looking for,”

“If you’re suggesting I sneak into his castle, then say it. I don’t like puzzles and riddles, my lord,” your voice is dead, but loud enough to hear over the sharpening of your blade. “It’ll take a long time to get there and get back. Unlike your own kingdom, he has a barrier that is under watch by his loyal dogs.”

“You’re an assassin. Sneaking in is what you do,” he coos, standing from his chair. His presence is behind you, large hands settling onto your shoulders. “I ask of you to sneak into the Kingdom of Aoba Johsai and kill King Oikawa,”

“Excuse me? That’s a bit much,” your voice warbles. Killing a king is harder, much harder, than sneaking under the radar. You would know. “Killing a king isn’t easy, you know,”

“Oh, I know. I know very well, my dear,” his voice is barely audible, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “But, I can offer something if you succeed,”

“Which is?”

“Freedom. You’ll be able to fly again, my little songbird,” his lips press to your cheek, whirling you around to face him. You have to move your head to look up at him, but he’s grinning with lidded eyes. “You’re more than welcome to decline. Personally, I’d prefer it, however, I know you’re the best assassin I have,”

“Best disposable assassin. Why not send Keiji?”

“Akaashi is supposed to protect me. He can’t do that if he’s in another kingdom,”

“Fine, but only if you keep your promise. I’ll hold you to it,” you finally say, huffing as you sheath the dagger. Never one to not rise to the challenge, you turn on your heel to leave the dungeons.

The trip from Fukurōdani to Aoba Johsai would be a day on foot, but you were able to get to the base of the mountains and enter the Kingdom of Nekoma, which allowed tourists from neighboring kingdoms. There, you were able to get your hands on some rations and new clothes, disguising yourself as a beggar woman who’s traveling the continent.

Pathways lead from each kingdom to their neighbor, but you choose to duck into the forest, under the shadows of the leaves and proud standing trees. Go in too deep and you’ll arrive at the center of the Dark Forest, where the ruin of the Karasuno Kingdom lies. It’s an unspoken forbidden place, only those wishing to never leave dare to go there. Crunching dead leaves and twigs under your feet, you manage to find a clearing to stay for the night. Aoba Johsai is farther than you expected, but the reward of freedom encourages you to keep your head up and move forward. It’s not safe to travel at night, the forest is home to all sorts of beasts.

It’s dark, the birds have stopped their chirping as you rest in the tree. Above the ground, away from monsters lurking in shadows, you close your eyes to get some shuteye. A ear-piercing scream rips sleep from your grasp, head whipping to look for the sound. Below you, about 2 yards from your sleeping position, is a family of travelers that seem to be struggling to scare away a bear. Although it is simply a bear, the family doesn’t seem to be prepared for such a disturbance. Against your logic, your morals win as you take out an arrow and put it into your crossbow. It’s small, but your aim is good enough to get the bear’s attention, roaring as it backs up. Lodged in the shoulder, the bear retreats as it quiets down the roars. The traveling family seems to be relieved at the turn of events, but they then become rigid as you drop from the tree.

“We cannot thank you enough, dear comrade,” the man, most likely the father, says. He goes to get on his knees, but he looks to you. “What— how shall we pay you back?”

This could work, you think. “Where does your family travel to?”

“Seijoh, the Kingdom on the Water. Tales have spread that opportunities are booming and the King is kind and just,” he speaks, but then his words stumble. “I do not-! Kuroo-sama is very gracious! I would give my life for his-!”

“You can stop. I don’t hail from Nekoma, if that’s what you think. I’m from neither kingdom, instead just traveling the continent in search of a new life. Perhaps Seijoh would be the way to go? I originally was going to Nekoma, actually,” you spin the tale you’ve made for yourself, which relieves the man. He straightens his back, his height no more than your own. “Would you let me travel with you? I’ll make sure your travel is safe,”

“Of course! We’d be honored to have the person who saved our lives join us,” he bows once more, then turns to the carriage with his family. “Let’s move on!”

“Yes, let’s,” you agree, joining the man on the bench. He cracks the reins and the horse begins moving once more, as you watch for anything else. Travels alone are scary, but with an entire family looking about and a kind stranger by your side, you won’t have to worry. Getting some sleep is your main focus, now, closing your eyes and letting the man know you’re going to rest.

The carriage stops moving, jolting you from your sleep. Before you lies other carriages and caravans, stretched into a line that leads to a large waterfall. The forest is bright and the birds are chirping as a man barks orders at the families and people attempting to enter. You make small conversation with the family, given a cloak to cover yourself from the chill of the morning dew. When it is time to be inspected, you have to give kudos to King Oikawa and his kingdom, noticing how bright and welcoming his entrance is.

“What is your business in Aoba Johsai?” The man almost growls out. A loyal dog of Oikawa’s, from your earlier words, stands before you. His hair is yellow in color, dark lines running from ear to ear. He catches your gaze, eyes narrowing even more, then looks back to the man.

“A traveling family with hopes to start a new life. I’ve heard great and kind things about Oikawa-sama, so I wish to visit the Kingdom on the Water got opportunity,” It’s a believable reason, and then men searching the items the family has give the okay. The guardian of the waterfall steps back, a shallow nod before he barks orders to move. The waterfall is large and can easily drown someone with how hard and fast the water crashes to the earth. A diamond shelf is embedded in the water, two more soldiers standing on opposite ends as they part the water. Barely enough room for the carriage and family, but once inside, the water crashes back behind you.

Aoba Johsai is breathtaking.

The morning sun glimmers across the water, waves gently rising only to be quelled back down. Birds sing along with the fish jumping out of the water, only to then crash back into calming waters. Pathways built of crystal minerals, harvested from the mines of Dateko, and hold countless travelers who have come on news of the opportunities. Soldiers are posted at every archway, checking to make sure nobody has snuck past the soldiers at the waterfall. Security is top notch at this kingdom, you note, as neither Nekoma nor Fukurōdani have such strong protections before entering the main kingdom. The pathway continues into the main kingdom, the town on the water, where fishermen and merchants attempt to sell a fortune for items only available at their stalls. Your awe must have shown, as the man beside you laughs joyfully.

“Never seen such a sight before, have you?” You shake your head. “It’s beautiful. I wish we could’ve been born here instead. Lots of blues, whites, and greens.”

“I noticed the vast greenery. The open area allows for lots of plants to grow, I suppose. Rivers allow for fish to come and reproduce, as well as allow for aquatic plants. A beautiful cycle of life, with a magical kingdom in the center,” you comment.

“Well, no magic. Magic hasn’t been used in over 100 years, you know. Not since Karasuno’s king fell. Um, I think—“

“King Ukai. I remember the story told to me before bed when I was a wee child. The story of the fallen king and his kingdom.”

“Yes! King Ukai, I hardly remember him,” before he continues, he stops. “Ah, we’ll need to get a room at the Rose Inn, and let the horses stay here at the stables. Would you mind settling our horses in? That way you can explore, if you want, before reaching the inn,”

“That sounds lovely! Thank you, kind sir,” you bow to him and grasp the reins of the horses. The inn is right next to the stables, the grunts working to put the luggage into a room for the night. You smile, turning the horses into the stables. A large man stands posted outside the stables, talking with an older man.

“No problems this week? Seems like you’ve had a stroke of luck, good sir,” the soldier says, laughing as the old man laughs with him.

“I hope it stays that way. Oh, ma’am? Need us to keep your horses?” The man notices you and your eye drifts to the soldier, straightening his back as a lazy smirk appears on his face. Not very threatening with the smile, but his large stature makes you wary.

“Yes, my family is staying at the Rose Inn next door. How long can you keep the horses for?”

“We charge by the night. How much gold do you have?” You hand him the bag of coins the man gave you. He counts them, tallying up the total. “They can stay for five nights.”

“Perfect! Thank you! I’ll tell my father, now!” You now graciously, skipping off and past the guard. His eyes trail after you, but you keep your pace to the inn. You’ll have to explore later. That guard sets you on edge.

The inn is graciously spacious. There’s enough room for each traveler and the cost of the rooms is cheaper than most inns you’ve come across in Nekoma and Fukurōdani. There’s sapphire and quartz lights, flames flickering behind them as the light illuminates and projects farther than most candles. It’s innovative technology, and allows for the rooms to be more lit than dirty and dim taverns. Dinner is also better than expected, the menu being more than a sheet of paper. You order at the bar, ordering a plate of their special dinner, then sit at the bar. The men beside you are drunk, but you hope they don’t cause a scene. Something tells you that the security would deal with a bar fight quite brutally.

By the time dusk has fallen, lights flickering on as lower soldiers and owners of shops alight their street lamps, you’ve explored the town. It’s full of trusting people, so you’ve learned quite a bit. King Oikawa has a personal guard and the captain of the guard almost always by his side, whether he makes an announcement or visits down below. One man, Hanamaki Takahiro, seems to willing to joke and hang out with the townspeople, but the captain is much more stern. Iwaizumi Hajime is the name you were told. He’s dangerous, you gathered, and he’s almost always by Oikawa’s side, protecting his king from harm. As night falls, the soldiers rotate so the ones on the streets are now in the castle, as nobody else enters the kingdom after dusk. Disposable soldiers to patrol, skilled protectors inside and around the king where the nightfall can hide trespassers entering the king’s chambers.

Shedding the clothes you were given so graciously, you’re stripping off the clothes of the soldier posted at the inn. The blood flowing from his chest has turned to a large puddle, so you have to trade your shoes for the soldier’s. Larger than your own feet, but you must bear with it. Leaving the alley, you keep your head low and you pretend to patrol. A glance left. A glance right.

You’re stuck.

Soldiers manage to be spread far enough apart, but not enough. They can see where you stand. You breathe heavily and straighten your back. Time to impersonate a soldier through the night and wait for switching times. A brief memory of the dead soldier in the alley flashes, but you push it back. The body is hidden in shadows, even the sunlight in the morn wouldn’t dare shine on the corpse.

Chickens chirp and a rooster crows, soon the other life awake and the sun rises. Shedding light on your position, you look to the gate that leads into the castle. The captain of the guard stands there, opening the gate as soldiers stand tall behind him. You blend in with the other guards, standing straight as you all prepare to trade positions. However, a woman with hair black as night stands before the group. She has an air about her, but she looks familiar. Iwaizumi lets her go, having one of his shoulders go with her. He’s tall and familiar, the soldier from the stables. They pass by, but the woman catches your eye. Her eyes hold a bit of mischief and mystery, but then she’s gone and her soldier follows with her.

“Alright, switch up! You know your positions!” Captain Iwaizumi shouts. Everyone shouts their agreement and dutifully switch places. Eyes face forward, unwilling to look at the captain that seems to have his gaze focused on you. Every soldier goes their separate ways and you don’t seem to bring attention to where you go, entering a room that you and another guard seem to be assigned to.

“Don’t fuck this up, Wakashu,” the soldier beside you grunts. You glance at him, wondering if he’s talking to you, but he thankfully looks to be hyping himself up. Pushing the doors open, you understand why.

It’s the throne room.

King Oikawa sits on his throne as he chats with two people beside him — Hanamaki Takahiro and one of the guardians from the waterfall. Your hair stands on edge, noticing the familiar yellow hair and dark lines, but you attempt to quell your nervousness. The king notices you both, nodding as you both go to positions on either side of the doors. Gatekeepers, essentially.

“It’s sad to see Kiyo-chan leave so soon. I’d hope she would’ve stayed another night to think about her decision,” the king huffs and sighs, brown locks swishing side to side as he shakes his head. “Guess it can’t be helped,”

“She probably thought you were too much of a brat,” Hanamaki snickers. Oikawa huffs again, turning to his guard. “I speak the truth! You expect her to like someone like you? With a shitty personality?”

“Excuse me! My personality is perfect and women should be lining up to be my queen! I thought only Iwa-chan would be mean to me,” he pouts, cheeks puffed out. It’s almost a cute scene. Almost.

Which is promptly ruined.

The doors fling open, you and the other soldier startled by the sudden opening. Iwaizumi and another soldier are huffing as they stop before the throne. Oikawa’s eyes go from friendly to seriousness, his posture changing as he looks down on the captain and an underling. “Speak.”

“A soldier was found dead in the alley,” you and the other soldier immediately go on edge, but for different reasons. “This one found the body,”

Oikawa turns his attention to the soldier, who immediately goes rigid and explains the scene. He also mentions the boots found at the crime scene, which he has in his hand. Coated with dried blood, they’re obviously yours. The guard from the waterfall recognizes them and you panic.

“I’ve seen them before! Someone came into the kingdom with those shoes yesterday morning,” he growls out, then he looks to you, who doesn’t move a muscle. Moving would make a scene, so you of course stay still, but he stares. “You. What’s with the cut on your shirt?”

Shit.

In the dark of night, you didn’t notice the slash in the shirt. The darkened coloring prevented the blood from showing, but the slash showed that something happened. It’s not a cut like dodging a weapon, but more of a stab. Fight or flight response kicks in, so you choose the latter. You got your information, you didn’t kill Oikawa, but it’s better than getting caught. You swing the door open and shut it, bolting down the corridors as you shed the armor. Lighten the load, faster you run. It’s not long until the soldier from before stops you, tall and imposing. You’d remember those stupid eyebrows from anywhere.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” He grins, but his grip is strong. You have a feeling he knew you’d be running soon. Footsteps approach behind you, then you’re pulled from the soldier’s grip and forced onto your knees. Chains are placed on your wrists and Iwaizumi grunts.

“Wonder who you’re working for,” he says. Oikawa is behind him, looking at you with the same look he gave to his soldier and Iwaizumi.

“Take her to the dungeons. I’ll see who she works for later.”

The tug of the restraints gets you off your knees, following Iwaizumi and his guard dog, the yellow haired one. Both of them prevent you from running and getting free of the restraints.

In the dungeons, you notice the materials. Similar to the pathway into the town, the dungeon bars are made of a shimmering mineral and you’re suddenly behind the bars. The restraints from before are removed, but your wrists are then placed into more chains along the ground. “Try and get out and see how well that works,” the yellow one grunts. Iwaizumi snaps his fingers and the soldier follows, leaving the dungeon.

“She’ll see soon enough, Kyotani,” the captain says, locking you in. “I’m sure the fight hasn’t completely left her,”

Then they leave. You’re all alone and you’ve failed your mission, but they’re right. You still have some fight left.

Hours pass by as you finally feel the fight leave you. There’s only one guard in the dungeons, but he’s nowhere near you. A thin man with ash brown hair stands posted at the base of the stairs, farthest from your cell. At first, you thought they lacked brains with security in the dungeons, seeing as you’re the only criminal behind bars, but the chains proved otherwise. Each movement you made, every breath you took, every grunt you voiced, the chains knew. They pulled tighter as if they had minds of their own, but they would loosen to their proper place if you were still for a certain amount of time.

Footsteps on marble stairs has you and the guard on alert. Looking towards the stairs, you see the king himself coming towards you. He smirks once he’s outside your cell. Iwaizumi stands next to him, not Hanamaki, and unlocks the door. “Are you comfortable?”

“No.”

“Well, could we help change that?”

“No.”

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Oikawa grins, crooked with a hint of anger. “I’ll get to the point. Who are you, who sent you, and what was your goal? I’m sure killing one of my disposable guards wasn’t the goal?” You don’t speak, so that angers him even more. It’s quick, the stinging in your jaw and the blood in your mouth the only indications his foot collided with your face. “Once more. Who are you?”

“My name is none of your business and neither is my home. My goal was to send that stupid head off your shoulders. Happy?” Your eyes stay narrowed, but he seems delighted at your answer.

“Treason, trespassing, and murder. I should kill you for this, but I wonder where you’re from,” he then has an unhinged desire in his eyes, grin splitting into something sinister. “I’ll keep you alive until you spill,”

“I’d rather eat your shoe again. What king wears white thigh-high boots, anyways? Your guards don’t respect you, they tolerate you. A worthless king with no pride, that’s all you are. I won’t bow to someone or kneel under their pressure when they have a weak resolve and no power. Admit it, you don’t run the kingdom, your soldiers do.”

A swift kick is administered, Oikawa’s breath heaving as he pants. His face is red with anger, frown evident on his face, but you’re grinning. Blood may be dripping from your mouth, but you know you’re right. He inhales sharply, then turns to Iwaizumi. “Understood,” he nods in response, leaving the keys on the wall as he goes to leave. Iwaizumi also takes the guard posted with him. You don’t understand why, but you don’t have much time to think about that.

“I may seem like a worthless king with little to no pride, but that’s all I have. My worthless pride. My guards and soldiers respect me because I am the power here,” he growls out, hand tugging on your hair that sends you collapsing against the ground. The chains pull in your arms, keeping you down as he straddles you. “You may not bow to me, but I’ll find out who you do bow to. I’ll rip every bit of fight out of you, beginning today,”

“Get off, you pervert!” Your screams echo against marble, reaching nobody’s ears. Oikawa goes to strip away the stolen clothes, eyes narrowing as he feels the dried blood against your chest. Ripping off the shirt, he exposes your breasts.

“Maybe I should take you as my royal lover, seeing as your body is supple and warm, perfect for someone to come to after a long day of work,” he grins, wicked and perverse as he looks at you. “What do you say, sweetheart?”

“Fuck off!” You scream, legs kicking and body squirming. He sighs and shrugs.

“No use, apparently. Then, let’s see how the rest of you feels,” he licks his lips as he shuffled down your pants. He’ll have to get you some other clothes, ones with easier access than the ones of his soldiers. The pants are off and he mocking coos at you, fingers sliding around the waistband of your panties to have them snap against your skin. “Pretty. All white and innocent, aren’t you? That’s what the panties say, but I bet you’d look better in black, since you’re probably not innocent.” He doesn’t get a response, so he continues talking. “I’ll give you some blue ones later, they’ll suit your skin tone and match the bars of your holding cell. Aren’t I generous?”

He’s pulling the fabric down, your legs spread as he does. He expects your goods to be dry, absolutely unprepared, but to his surprise, glimmering strings connect your pussy to your removed panties, falling and breaking as he continues to bare yourself to him. A laugh escapes him, fingers pressing into your folds. “You’re getting off on being manhandled? Seems like you’re the pervert, sweetie,” he coos, licking a hot stripe of saliva against your cheek. It’s disgusting and revolting, but you can’t say anything against it. You’ve been in a similar position before, your body seems to not be able to tell the difference between men.

Oikawa’s fingers delve into your cunt, scissoring as he feels around. Rubbing against your walls, he’s pleased when your back arches and a moan escapes your lips, only for a hand to come and cover your mouth. It’s soon removed, the chains pulling your arm back down. Oikawa continues his violation of your most sensitive area, thumb rubbing against your clit as his fingers move and rub inside you. The building knot in your stomach tightens and tightens, muscles tensing as you feel your orgasm coming on. You can feel it, it’s almost there, a moan escaping— then it’s gone. Oikawa’s hand has been removed, tongue flicking over the wet digits as he moans himself.

“Definitely not a virgin by the way you’re acting. A proper whore, you are,” he doesn’t expect an answer, standing on his knees as he goes to unbuckle his belt. Eyes widen as you realize he’s actually going all the way, but he just smirks down at you. Removing his cock from his pants, you stare at it. It’s almost beautiful, you think, staring at the slender cock and how it seems to just compliment his personality and how he holds himself. A hand wraps around the shaft of it, pumping as his darkened gaze lingers on your spread legs. Well, what’s between them. “Hope you’re ready,”

Although you most certainly are not, he doesn’t care. Pushing his tip into your cunt, he finds it hard to push too far. You’re not relaxed in his hold, tensed at his entrance into your velvety walls. His hand comes to your throat, pushing his thumb on your windpipe. “Any words?”

“Fuck off,” you mutter, eyes rolling as he plunges inside you. Pushing past your barriers and spreading you open wide, he’s not the biggest or longest you’ve ever had, but he’s by no means small. It takes effort to adjust to his length, but he doesn’t allow it. Once he’s in, he’s pulling out only to snap his hips back to yours. Your throat is free of his hold, his hand moving to hook your leg over his arm as his other hand is placed beside you. It’s a horrible thing, finding yourself enjoying his thrusts and how each roll of his hips seem to add to your pleasure. His own moans, much louder than yours, seem to prove he’s finding his own pleasure inside you.

Oikawa’s soon picking up his pace, his lips next to your ear as you mewl from pleasure. “Acting like a proper whore. You’d make a fine lover, chained to my side permanently,” he murmurs, lips pressing to your hot skin. He doesn’t get an answer, but he has a feeling your answer is no. Yet, he finds himself getting lost in his own pleasure that he’s soon slamming his hips into you even faster. When he feels his orgasm coming, he leans back and applies pressure to your clit. Your squeal of pleasure has your walls creaming around him and sucking him in. He’s not far behind, rutting his hips against you as he spills his cum inside, your walls milking him of every drop.

When the high passes, he’s removing his limp cock from your hole as his cum oozes out. It drips and plops onto the floor beneath you, but he finds it mesmerizing. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll have to come back.

The shutting and locking of the doors tells you he’s gone, leaving the dungeons and you all alone. With his seed still gushing from your cunt, you have a feeling he’ll be visiting you tomorrow, too.

He wants to break you. You refuse to bend. Each night, you’ll find yourself looking forward to his company.

#haikyuu smut #Mr. Tōru #BB.Kinky #BB.Requests #tw.noncon #tw.dubcon #oikawa x reader #tw.choking #tw.death #tw.blood #tw.degradation #tw.abuse #tw.no aftercare

[pixieungerstories]

Quarentine - 1

They always say ‘buy the worst house on the best block that you can afford’ and god knows this place was a total shit hole.  1200 square feet on an overgrown lot surrounded by McMansions.  Hell, I paid less for the place that the land was worth.  I’m amazed someone hadn’t bulldozed the place years ago.

To make a long story short, I did not look a gift house horse in the mouth.

I mean, it wasn’t a total write off.  None of the windows were smashed.  There were mature fruit trees in the backyard.  If you ignored the weeds and rotting fruit, there was a lot of potential.  The plumbing was lead pipes and the electrical was knob and tube, but I know people and I could trade favours to get that replaced.  The foundations were good and the roof barely leaked.

I spent the summer camping in a tent in the back yard and slowly getting the place winterized enough that I could move it.

It was still a creepy ass house when I did.  It had a boiler.  I had no idea how to deal with that, but I was learning.  And I learned how to ignore the whistles, hissing and banging sounds that went with having a boiler.  The old rads were cast iron with pretty little details in the corners.

There were holes in the plaster, but I just ignored them.  It wasn’t worth fixing when I was going to gut the place and put up drywall eventually.  It just made it easier to get at the plumbing.

I started just living in the kitchen and ignoring the rest of the house.  I had disconnected the rest of the electrical and plumbing and was using that as a home base while I renovated outwards from there.

There is nothing quite as creepy as sleeping in a sleeping bag on what were probably asbestos tiles in an old house that makes the weird noises that old houses make.  I kept reminding myself that they only seemed louder than normal because the place was empty and there was nothing to muffle the sound.  The shrieking had to be the upstairs window that didn’t quite shut properly.

I had the feeling that something was watching me and prayed to god it wasn’t rats.

I was in this for the long haul.  Get up, shower at the gym, go to work, come home, renovate until it gets dark, shower at the gym, camp out in the kitchen.  Not exciting, but satisfying.  Let’s face it, this was the only way I was ever going to be able to afford a house.

When the work from home order came, I had to actually get a phone line installed so I could have internet access.  Me, my laptop and a kitchen table I rescued from the curbside a while back.

The creepy feeling was worse.  I told myself it had to be the isolation kicking in.  I skyped with my best friends at night to make up for it.  The power was still a bit dodgy and kept going out, but that’s what laptop batteries and cell phones are for, right?

I was sure the cough was from the dust.

The guy delivering groceries left them on the sidewalk instead of the porch.  It was fine.  I understood completely.  I hadn’t done much work on the outside of the building at all. 

I realized I was sneezing a bit when I started having to use toilet paper as kleenex.

I was fine.  I was young and healthy.  I didn’t have any sick days at work so I was determined to just push through.

I tried to get more rest.

I dreamed about something laying a cool hand on my forehead.

The grocery store was out of thermometers.

I mean, did it really matter if I had a fever?  I wasn’t leaving the house to share with anyone.

My cough got worse overnight.  I was vaguely aware of someone lifting me up and holding a cup of cool water to my lips.  I was so fucking thirsty. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” I mumbled.  “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I won’t,” a rumbling voice assured me.

I didn’t remember making soup, but I jolted into awareness sitting at the table with a steaming bowl in front of me.  Chicken noodle out of a can.  It’s not that hard to make.  I’m sure I could add water and heat in my sleep.  Apparently, I just did.

I was so cold that night.  I don’t know where the extra blankets came from, but they were there in the morning.

I don’t know how I ordered a bed while I was sick, but it was there and on my credit card.  So was the mattress and sheets.  It must have been the fever talking when I ordered them.  I would not have picked out anything that old fashioned looking.

How did I get all this stuff up to the second floor bedroom?  I’m sure I don’t remember stripping the paint off the closet doors.   I must be losing my mind.  I slept, I ate, I stopped logging in at work.  I just needed to concentrate on getting better.

By the time I was able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, the city was shut down.  I was confined to my house whether I liked it or not.  I was suddenly glad my fever addled brain had ordered a bed while I still could.  

The watched feeling was worse.  I ordered some rat traps with my groceries.  I didn’t catch anything.  They didn’t take the bait.  I swear I heard snickering when I checked them in the morning.  That was a new sound for the boiler to make.

“I am losing my mind,” I repeated to myself.  Then blushed when I realized I had said it aloud.  “And yes, I also talk to myself,” I added for good measure.  “At least it is some sound,” I muttered.  “I should turn on some music or something.”

Work was officially shut down but I still had the dumpster outback.  I spend my awake time cleaning out the other rooms.  The advantage of living in a construction zore was all the dust masks.  When I needed to actually go out, that might help.  In the meantime, I carefully sorted through the things the previous owners had left behind.  Some of it was just trash, but there were some old photographs, lost buttons, even a single antique earring.

“No chance of finding a pair, I bet.  Still this could be made over into a necklace or something.”  Shit.  I was talking to myself again, wasn’t I?

I still got tired easily.  I dreamed about my mom stroking my hair as I slept.

The footprints I couldn’t explain away.

I had taken down a section of wall and spent the day carrying out the chunks of plaster before microwaving a pizza pop and tucking in early.  In the morning there were footprints in the dust.  They weren’t mine.  They were huge and it was hard to believe they were human.  Weird long toes, with the claw tips a little in front were not what I was expecting.

That was the first time I had wanted to leave the house.

I grabbed my stuff and made it to the front yard before I was spotted by a passing patrol car and ordered back inside.  I had no idea how to explain that I thought there was some sort of monster living in my house.  I was shaking as I went back inside.

“Hello?”  I called from the doorway, ready to run.  I had no idea where I could even run to.  “Um…  Is anyone there?”  I don’t know what I was expecting.  “Hi?  Um ….  I bought the house, I didn’t know there was any … thing living here.  I have been trying to fix it up.”

“I know.”

Fuck.  The scratchy, rasping bass voice was not what I was expecting.  “I … uh…  I can go back to camping in the yard,” I suggested.

“No.”

I waited to hear if he (?) was going to say anything else.

Apparently not.

“Uh … no I can’t stay here?  Or no, you don’t even want me camping in the backyard?”

“If I didn’t want you here, I would have had many opportunities to get rid of you.”

Shit.  That wasn’t ominous or threatening at all.

With a low chuckle the voice asked, “Did you mean to say that out loud?”

I froze and tried to remember what I had said.  Oh.  “No, that was an accident.  I’m not used to having anyone around to hear me.”

“I always hear you.”

I closed the door and went out to sit in the garden for a moment to think about that.  I ended up pacing, swearing and wishing for a cigarette.  I hadn’t smoked in years.    The sun started to go down and the bugs came out.  I was being eaten alive outside.  Going inside was scary but he was right.  He had lots of time to …

I flung open the door.  “Did you order furniture on my credit card?”  I demanded.

The laughter that rang out was a whole other level of creepy.  I shivered and thought about going back outside.  The door pulled itself closed behind me.  I spun to look at it and didn’t see anything.  I could hear something breathing. I turned again.  Nothing.

“If we are both going to live here, can we at least agree on some ground rules?”

“Like what?” was almost purred in my ear.  Looking around wildly, I still couldn’t see anything.

I was shaking now.  “Is there a way for you to be less scary so I don’t have a heart attack?” I squeaked.

There was nothing but silence.  Still my sense of the presence suggested it was gone.

I didn’t sleep that night.  I would just start to nod off then jerk myself awake and look wildly around the room.  I never saw anything.

Six am, my alarm went off and I could smell coffee.

All the dust had been swept up.

“Hello?” I whispered.

Nothing.  I had coffee and cereal and tried not to think about my surprise roommate.  I was so tired, I passed out at my computer in the kitchen at some point that morning, only to wake in bed upstairs in the afternoon.  “I don’t want you to touch me while I’m sleeping,” I mumbled, painfully aware that there was dick all I could do to stop it.

“Alright,” the voice said, coming from somewhere in the direction of the closet.  “But don’t fall asleep at the table then.”

I breathed a faint sigh of relief.  I wasn’t expecting the next part.

“You need to eat something now.  You are still recovering.”

There was a can of soup heating on the stove.  My breakfast dishes were gone.  I found them clean and dry in the cupboard.  “Thank you,” I whispered.  He didn’t reply.  As I ate lunch, I was psyching myself into going upstairs to look in the closet.  The door had been painted shut when I got the house, but at some point had been stripped down to the bare wood.

I hadn’t worked up the nerve by the time I was done eating.  Or washing and drying the dishes.  I found myself at the bottom of the stairs staring up at the second floor.  Did I really want to see what was in that closet?

No.

But it would be better to look during the light of day.

Eventually, I made it up there.  I put my hand on the knob and tried to turn it.  It didn’t budge.

“You want rules?” the voice growled behind me.  I spun, there was nothing there.  “Do not open that door.  Do not come into my space.”

I went from trembling from nerves to bolting down the stairs in an instant.  I nearly tripped, but felt something - him? - catch me and set me on my feet.

“Careful,” he purred.

I spent the rest of the day in the garden again.  I was still out there when the sun went down and the back light turned on.  Then the kitchen light and for a moment I could see something outlined against the antique curtains I hadn’t replaced in the kitchen.  I tried to remind myself that he wasn’t necessarily that big.  He might just be closer to the light and casting a bigger shadow.

I didn’t believe it, but I tried.

I crept back into the house like a scared child who wasn’t sure how angry their parents were going to be after they had done something wrong.  I turned on all the lights on the main floor and stayed in the kitchen away from the stairs.

“Planning on staying up all night?”

I jumped.  “How are you always behind me?”

“I live in the shadows.  Go to bed.”

“Um…  I was thinking, that should be your room, really.  Your closet.  You picked out the bed.  I can just camp down -”

“No.  Go to bed.”

“Do you really think I’m going to be able to sleep in a room with a closet that must not be opened?  I have read Blue Beard, you know.”

“So have I.  The wife gets the house and lives happily ever after.”

“The last wife does,” I pointed out.  “The first dozen or so didn’t.”

He chuckled at that.  “We made a deal, remember?”

“Are you teasing me?  What deal?”

“I don’t touch you in your sleep.  You don’t sleep in the kitchen anymore.”

“How big are you?”

The lights flickered and went off.

“Do you want to see me?”  he purred, so close that I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Not in the dark,” I squeaked.

“Go to bed.”  

The light snapped back on, leaving me blinking.

I spent the night sitting on the bed with my back pressed against the headboard trying to see the whole room at one.  Eventually, I fell asleep.

My alarm did not go off at six.  It had been turned off.  The coffee was ready but not turned on when I went down stairs.  The air smelled faintly of solder.  There was a post-it stuck to the coffee maker.  Fine copperplate handwriting told me:

I have replaced the plumbing

I stared at it dumbly.  I had replaced the plumbing to the kitchen sink and the downstairs powder room and had been washing out of the sink since I had been forced to stay home.  The only other plumbing was down to the washing machine in the cellar and the upstairs bathroom.  I pushed the button on the coffee maker and slowly crept upstairs.

Sure enough the stack of copper pipe waiting in the other bedroom was gone. 

Well, not gone.  I could see it installed through the holes in the walls.  I turned on the tap to the sink and sure enough, I had water.  I now had an upstairs, working bathroom with a clawfoot tub.

And no walls.

“I don’t like the idea of you watching me bathe,” I called out.  Then I felt like an idiot because if whatever it was had voyeur tendencies, it could have been watching me for months.  I tried all the taps and the toilet.  Everything worked.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, unsure if I was talking to myself.

“You’re welcome.”  It was the least creepy, most normal thing I had heard from him.

----

When I got back downstairs, there still wasn’t coffee but there was a new note:

Humans who do not sleep start to hallucinate

I crumbled it up, threw it across the room and jabbed the on switch on the coffee maker.  Nothing happened.  I growled as I plugged it in.  The power went out.

“Oh come on!  Withholding coffee is cruel and unusual punishment!”

“Sleep.”  It sounded like the whole house had murmured that last bit.

I wish I could say I handled it gracefully, but I didn’t.  I stomped back up to the bedroom like a petulant child.

I woke to bright sunlight streaming in through the window.  The house was quiet and it felt empty for the first time in days.  I had a bath and washed my hair and I felt better than I had in days too.  Clean and dry and dressed, I bounced into the kitchen to try and turn on the coffee again only to see my laptop snap shut.

It was with a lot of trepidation that I opened it.  I was expecting a ridiculous online purchase which is why I stared dumbly at the screen unable to process what I was seeing.

It was a CGI woman with her hands tied to something over her head being railed by a monster who was fingering her clit with one hand and fondling her breasts with the other while her belly distended in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Ugh!  Dude!  You can NOT watch porn on my laptop!” I shrieked as I frantically tried to close the window.

“Would you rather I watch you?” he asked calmly from somewhere to the left of me.

I breathed out a shaky breath.  “OK.  Let’s talk about private browser windows and how not to get a computer virus.”

When I got to the end of my tentative explanation, I asked, “Do you need … some alone time?”

There was another house shaking howling laugh.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“You need to eat.”

That brought up a whole other issue.  “Do you?  Eat I mean.  Do you eat?  What do you eat?”

“Don’t worry about me.  I am not going to eat you.  Unless you ask nicely.”

I blushed even further but got out a pan and a skillet meal from the fridge.

I spend the rest of the afternoon weeding the garden.  I came in when it got dark, heated up my leftovers from lunch and tried to figure out what to do with myself.  The nap had meant that I wasn’t tired for the first time in days.

I wondered what he would do if I watched a movie.  I hunted through the cupboards and found a bag of microwave popcorn from before the virus started.  Right! I thought.  Bowl of popcorn, a movie, skype with a few friends.  Pretend none of this was happening.

I wasn’t surprised when the lights went out.  That was just a thing now.  My computer was still illuminating a bubble around me and B99 was still hilarious.

I wasn’t expecting the bed to dip next to me.  That once again raised the question of how to deal with him around others.  I hit the mute button.  “What are you doing?” I asked icily.

“Not touching you.  What are you eating?”

“Human food.”

“Hmmm.”

I unmuted my computer to answer Penny’s question about how stir crazy I was going.

“12/10 on the looney toons scale,” I offered.

She just laughed.

All of the popcorn was gone.

“Ah hell.”

“What’s wrong?” Penny asked.

“All my popcorn is gone,” I grumbled.  I didn’t add that I had more than half a bowl left a moment ago.  Not eating me, I reminded myself.

“That sucks.  Need to pause and get more?”

“I don’t have anymore.”

She just laughed, “But do you still have toilet paper and hand sanitizer?”

I chuckled, “Toilet paper, at least.”

“I should go.  It’s getting late,” she said with a yawn.

“Yeah.  Good night.”  After Penny signed off, I just let Netflix autoplay the next episode.

“Do you need to sleep?” The whisper seemed to come from the direction of the closet but the bed was still dipped under his weight on my other side.

My heart leapt to my throat.  “How many of you are there?”

“Just me,” he purred too close to my ear.  I flung myself away from him and toppled out of bed.  Two hands caught me.

Two other hands caught my laptop.

I stared as it was placed back on the bed a little way in front of me.  The hands on my arms were cool and smooth.  “What are you?”

“I am me.  I have not asked your name.  You will not ask mine.”

“My name is on the mail.  And my credit card.  You know my name,”  I pointed out keeping my eyes locked on the screen, fighting the urge to look around.

“Nonetheless.”

This wasn’t going to work, but I had to try.  “I would like to be alone now.”

The bed shifted as the weight was removed from the side.  The black shadows that could be fingers moved from my computer.  The voice said, “Good night” from the direction of the closet.  

I sat frozen.  “In the morning, I’m moving the bed to another room.”

“Why?”

“Because the closet is yours and it’s scary being here with you,” I admitted.

“I have never done anything to harm you.”

“You scare the shit out of me multiple times a day.”

There was a long pause before he replied, “And yet you haven’t left.”

“The city is on lock down.  I can’t leave.”

“Hmm.”  

I jumped as my laptop snapped shut.  I fumbled in the dark trying to find it on my bed, “What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Taking this downstairs.  I will not bother you tonight.”

“What-” I started to say, then snapped my mouth shut as the realization that this may be his ‘alone time’.

This time the “Good night,” came from the bedroom door.

In the morning the only thing in my browsing history was netflix.  This was less comforting since I had shown him how to clear the cache.  I told myself at least the keyboard wasn’t sticky.

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Embers to Ashes

hotch x unsub!reader

Summary: When (Y/N) leaves the BAU, she doesn’t expect to get wrapped up in a crime spree

Word Count: 2609

Warnings: abusive relationship, pregnancy & mentions of childbirth, typical criminal minds violence

“The real monsters are humans without conscience.” -Robert E. Keller

~

Your decision to leave the BAU was not an easy one, but it was what was best. After your mother fell ill, you decided to move back home to care for her, as she was alone. Your team protested, not wanting you to leave, of course. Penelope fought for you to stay the hardest. She was like the sister you never had.

The team followed you to the airport to see you off. Hugs went around, followed by promises that you’d call when you land. The only person who didn’t hug you was Hotch, which you found weird for a number of reasons. Even Spencer hugged you, and he wasn’t big on physical affection. And you’d always thought you and Hotch were close.

“Hey, promise me you’ll keep in touch,” he said, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, of course,” you said.

“Oh, I need another hug!” Penelope said, squeezing you tight again. She’d been crying the whole time and her mascara was running. “I’m gonna miss you so much, Peaches.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, Pen,” you said. You glanced at your watch. “Okay, I really have to go now. I love you guys so much.”

~

You were grocery shopping for your mother when you ran into him. Nicholas Gully, one of your old high school friends.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) (L/N)?”

“Nick! Hi!” you said, tossing the box of pasta into your shopping cart. “How have you been?”

“Oh, great. What about you? Big FBI agent out at Quantico.”

You laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah, uh, I actually quit.”

“What? Why? All you talked about in high school was getting into the academy.”

“Uh, well, it’s because of Mom actually. She’s sick. I quit to move back out here and help her until she… Well…”

“Yeah. Well, I’m here if you need to, I don’t know, let off steam?” He handed you a business card. “Here. My number. Give me a call, we’ll go out for drinks or something.”

You smiled. “Thanks, Nick. It was good seeing you.”

~

Your mom died about a month after you moved home. You were an only child, so it was your responsibility to handle all of her affairs. It was stressful, and you felt isolated. Alone.

You looked at all the funeral plans spread out on the kitchen table, and before you knew it, you’d called Nick and asked him to come over.

What happened next was a blur. You buried your mother next to your father, Nick stayed by your side the whole time. While your mind was clouded with grief, you thought the only good thing to come of it was your new relationship with Nick.

He was nice. He treated you well and helped you through your grief. Only, he didn’t like how much you talked to Penelope and Emily, saying that it was unnatural to be so close to your ex-coworkers. So you stopped talking to them.

Nick moved in with you not too long into your relationship. He said that living in your mother’s house alone wasn’t healthy for you. He helped you sort and pack up her belongings, taking the things you weren’t keeping or throwing out to the thrift store.

You were together for about 8 months before your relationship changed.

You hadn’t been feeling well and you had your suspicions. You took a trip to the drug store and bought a few tests while Nick was at work. You took all of them, trying to rule out a false positive.

When you heard Nick come in from work, you decided to tell him.

“Hey, Nick? I have some news,” you said after he put his work bag down on the couch.

“What’s up?”

“Um, you know how I haven’t been feeling well lately? Well, I went to the pharmacy and picked up some pregnancy tests. They were all positive.”

“Are you serious? You’re pregnant?”

You nodded. “I’m calling my doctor first thing tomorrow to schedule an appointment.”

Nick’s tone should have tipped you off to his true nature. But you were in too deep.

~

A few months passed. You were showing significantly, though your doctor was worried about your health. The bags under your eyes grew, and you were showing up to your appointments with more and more bruises on your arms. One day you came in with a poorly concealed black eye.

One day, you came home from a doctor’s appointment to see Nick packing some bags.

“Nick? What’s going on?”

“We’re going on a trip,” he said. “Roadtrip, it’ll be fun.”

“Nick, I’m 7 weeks away from my due date-”

“You’ll be fine,” he snapped, thrusting a bag at you. “Get in the car.”

You headed outside, Nick’s hand firmly on your back. He steered you away from your old clunker towards a shiny new SUV. “Did you buy a new car?” you asked.

“Sure, buy. Let’s go with that.”

“Nick, what did you do? What did you get us into?”

“Don’t worry about it. Get in.”

“Nick-”

“I said, get in.”

~

“Des Moines PD has a case for us,” Penelope said. “As do St. Louis, Louisville, and Charleston.”

“Carjacking?” Morgan asked, flipping through the case file. “Why are they asking us to come in?”

“It’s the same MO,” Hotch explained. “It’s a couple, a man and a woman, presumably his wife or girlfriend. They find a home just outside the city and take the car at night, leaving the previously stolen car.”

“They’re active at night? How do we know it’s a team?” Spencer asked.

“The second victim had security cameras installed. They caught glimpses of the couple, but not enough for us to identify,” Penelope explained.  

“Why are they only bringing us in now?” Emily asked. “It says the first theft was over a month ago.”

“Because this one ended in a murder and assult. The surviving victims are at the hospital. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch said.

~

When the team landed in West Virginia, Hotch divided the team up between the hospital, the crime scene, and the coroner’s office. Hotch and Emily took the hospital to interview the victims. One was a woman in her mid-30s, and the other was her 6-year-old son. The husband had been the murdered victim.

“Hi, Mrs. Foster? I’m Agent Hotchner,” Hotch said, taking a seat next to the woman with Emily. “Would you mind answering a few questions for us?”

“Well, I’m-I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to remember but…”

“Anything you tell us can help us catch these two,” Emily said, gently patting the woman’s hand. “We’re going to try something called a cognitive interview, to see what your subconscious picked up, okay?”

The woman nodded. “Okay.”

“Go ahead and close your eyes,” Emily said. “So, it was late. You and your husband were getting ready for bed. Then what?”

“Neil heard a noise,” she said. “He said it sounded like a man. He grabbed Micah’s little league bat from beside the front door. He told me to wait inside. Micah had fallen asleep on our couch and came to see what was going on. I-I heard Neil yell and I heard a gunshot. I ran outside and I saw a couple. A man and a woman.”

“What can you tell me about them? What did they look like?”

“I didn’t see the man too well, but the woman, well, I only saw her face. But she looked bad.”

“What do you mean?” Emily asked.

“Well, her skin was sunken and sallow. She had bruises all over. She looked like she was ready to drop at any second.”

“Okay. What happened then?”

“Neil was bleeding on the ground. I-I ran over to him and felt for his pulse. It was already gone. Then the man hit my head with the gun, and I fell to the ground. But Micah- I didn’t know Micah followed me. The man pointed his gun at Micah. I was terrified. I thought he was going to shoot my son, too. But then the woman stood in front of the gun. She started pleading with the man. I was fading in and out of consciousness, but I heard her.”

“Nick, don’t!”

“What did I tell you? You don’t get to call me that, whore.”

“I-I’m sorry, sir. But, please, don’t hurt him. He’s just a boy.”

“He saw our faces. You know the police are already on our trail. We can’t have a kid squealing to the cops.”

“No, I… I won’t let you.”

“You won’t let me?”

“He hit her,” Mrs. Foster said. “Hard. It was so hard I thought he shot her, too.” She shook her head. “After that, he knocked me out. I don’t know what happened next. I just remember waking up here.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Foster,” Hotch said. “This was very helpful.” Hotch and Emily got up to leave.

“Wait, Agent Prentiss,” she called after Hotch left the room. Emily turned around. “When you find them, go easy on the woman.”

“Why would you want us to do that?” she asked.

“I work at a battered women’s shelter. I see women like her all the time. She’s profoundly abused. She’s not a criminal, she’s a victim.”

~

Micah Foster was able to give a detailed description of the man to the sketch artist. Thanks to his description, they were able to track him down outside of Charlottesville, Virginia. What they weren’t counting on was seeing you, in the passenger seat.

Nick didn’t want to go down without a fight. But his idea of a fight was to use you as a human shield. He held you in front of him, his arm bracing against your throat. He had a gun in his other hand, training it on the team.

“You shoot, you hit her!” he said, pressing harder on your throat.

“Okay, okay,” Morgan said, holding his gun up in surrender. “We won’t shoot. Just let (Y/N) go.”

Nick turned the gun and pressed it to your temple. “Why are you so concerned about her?

“Because she’s a person,” Derek said, trying to negotiate. “She doesn’t need to get hurt.”

A gunshot went off. You screamed and stumbled forward, Morgan catching you. Nick fell to the ground, dropping his gun and gripping his thigh. Hotch had snuck up behind and shot him in the leg.

~

The next thing you knew, you were in an interrogation room with Hotch and Emily.

“(Y/N), what happened?” Emily asked you, her voice gentle. “You look awful. What did he do to you?”

Your eyes were trained on the table. “Nothing. He treats me with nothing but respect. I did this to myself.”

“(Y/N), we all know that’s not true,” Emily said. “Talk to us. You know us.”

You kept your eyes on the metal table and you stayed quiet.

“Damn it, (Y/N)!” Hotch yelled, slamming his hands on the table. You flinched back, closing your eyes and wincing like you were bracing for a hit. Hotch took a step back. “Prentiss, take over.”

He left the interrogation room and stormed over to the second room where Morgan and Reid were interrogating Nicholas.

“Hotch-”

“What the hell did you do to her?” Hotch nearly screamed, his blood boiling.

Nick smiled. “I didn’t do anything, she did it all to herself.”

“We both know that’s not true, you piece of-”

“Aaron!” Rossi said, cutting him off. He then proceeded to pull Hotch from the interrogation room. “What the hell is going on with you?”

Hotch took a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his face. “You saw her, Dave. You saw what that asshole did to her. You saw her flinch away from me. That’s a woman who has faced down some of the worst humanity has to offer, and she’s been so badly abused that she’s…”

“Aaron, you know what abuse does to people. We’ve seen it more times than I ever want to count.”

“But it’s never been someone we know. It’s never been someone we love.”

“Ah. So that’s what this is about.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Why don’t you sit this one out? Prentiss and I can handle it.” Rossi walked into the room and sat next to Emily. Emily had given you a glass of water.

“(Y/N), why did you save the mother and her son?” she asked you.

“I don’t know,” you said, twisting the glass around in your hands.

“(Y/N).” Emily reached out and put her hand on yours. “You specifically looked out for the boy. Why?”

A tear rolled down your cheek. “Nick made me leave mine,” you whispered.

“What?”

“He said she would slow us down, that she was a burden. He made me leave her at a church. I didn’t even get to hold her.” After that, you broke down sobbing. Emily slowly crossed to the other side of the table and cautiously put her arm around you.

~

The team worked out a deal for you with the DA. You would be acquitted if you testified against Nick, and you would be closely watched by the team.

“She can’t keep sleeping on the couch in the conference room, Hotch,” Rossi said as the team gathered in the bullpen. You were asleep and the team wanted you to have peace. “She can come stay with me. Lord knows I have the space.”

“Wait, why should she stay with you? She’s my best friend,” Penelope argued. “She can stay with me.”

“Babygirl, you don’t have a spare room,” Derek reminded her. “I can take her in.”

“She just spent the better part of two years under the thumb of an alpha male, do you think she’d feel comfortable staying with another one?” Emily said.

“Did any of you think maybe she should make her own choice?” Spencer piped up. “I mean, she hasn’t been able to make her own choices, I think we should at least give her that.”

“Reid is right,” Hotch said. “We should let her make the choice. And please, don’t pressure her. She’s not the same (Y/N) she was when she left. She’s been through hell and back.”

~

In the end, you chose to stay with Aaron. Something about him made you feel safe. Slowly but surely, you started warming up again. You spent your days taking care of Jack when Hotch was on cases. When Aaron was home, he spent time with you and Jack. The two of you grew closer and closer.

You’d stayed with Aaron for a few months before there was a shift in your relationship. You weren’t sure when it happened, but you and Aaron were closer. You became more comfortable with physical contact, and you found yourself curling up on the couch with Aaron for movie nights after Jack went to bed.

You kissed Aaron first. He’d come back from a case with a book he knew you’d been wanting to read. It was something simple, but it meant the world to you, knowing there was someone who listened to you and wanted to do something nice for you.

Your relationship blossomed from there, and Aaron made sure to show you he respected you and never wanted to hurt you. Of course, there were bad days and there were days you argued, but Aaron never raised a hand against you. He never wanted you to experience the pain Nick caused you ever again.

~

“The difference between the right word and the almost right word is like the difference between a lightning bug and the lightning.” - Mark Twain

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #x reader #em's fics

[clonecest-bin-account]

How about this: the Bad Batch all awkwardly flirting with Echo, trying to bring him into their poly relationship?

(ajhsdsjhk yes please I love this)

Echo is many things, but despite what people might believe, oblivious isn’t one of them. He’s an ARC, trained to notice even the smallest details - and in missions, those usually are the difference between life and death. What he wants to say with this is that he has noticed that the bond that unifies the Bad Batch isn’t just a platonic one; it checks out, he thinks: the only people they can lean onto are each other, so it makes sense that they would seek each other out for that too.

What he wasn’t expecting was for them to try and bring him along for the ride, which he appreciates and all but… Well, maybe it’s still too soon, he thinks; he needs time.

Of course, this doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy their awkward attempts at flirting, and what attempts…

 Since Echo’s healthier now he can go back to physical training, which makes Wrecker the happiest.

“I’m gonna show you all my favorite moves!” he exclaims, eager to get started. Although Echo’s eager as well - he really needs to get back on track - he also knows that if he allows him, Wrecker would wreck his shit - he really can see how he got his name.

“Make sure you don’t break anything important, please? I don’t want to be stuck with physical therapy again…” he warns in fact.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle…” Wrecker immediately says, smirking, although it doesn’t last for long as he realizes the implications of what he just said, which makes him cringe and stutter. “Um… I mean…”

Echo can’t hold back a chuckle, shaking his head. This doesn’t last long either, because in a moment he immediately goes on the offensive, taking advantage of Wrecker’s distraction to land a kick on his knee, making him lose his balance.

What? Last time Echo checked, there’s no rule against fighting dirty.

 Tech’s way of flirting is more ramble-y than Wrecker’s, but Echo still finds it adorable. He’s so earnest in the way he begins to explain some complicated mechanical process that even though Echo doesn’t understand everything he’s saying, it’s still a delight to listen to him.

Right now he’s listing all the features he installed on his new mechanical arm; some have already gotten lost, but Echo’s gotten most of them.

“I figured you’d want to be still able to connect to machinery and such so if you close your pink like this…” he begins, gently moving Echo’s finger in the way he’s supposed to imitate next time he wants to do it, and soon a valve opens at the center of his palm, making space for a plug that begins to come out, just like a droid’s one. “There!”

“I’m sure it’ll come handy,” Echo says, “Thank you.”

“I’ve also adapted the shape to the rest of your body,” Tech continues, barely registering Echo’s reply. “You’re so well proportioned that I couldn’t not do it…”

“Well proportioned, huh?” Echo repeats, fighting back a smirk. He’s definitely heard worse - he really has - but still that’s not what comes to his mind when he thinks about complimenting someone.

After a solid minute of Tech stuttering, Echo thinks that he must’ve broken him. It’s cute but also he feels kind of bad now, so he decides to do something about it.

“Thank you,” he says then. “Took me a while to get back in shape, so it means a lot that you’d think that.”

Those words seem to calm Tech down, who sheepishly smiles at him.

Echo, of course, smiles back.

 Crosshair’s idea of flirting is, apparently, not insulting him, which Echo appreciates he guesses, but it’s still peculiar.

“You shoot well for a reg.”

“Thanks?” Echo says. He’s never sure about how to reply to Crosshair when he tells him this stuff; he supposes it could be worse - he’s heard Crosshair says way worse - but it seems that the sniper has some sort of soft spot for him, not that he admitted it of course.

They’re firing guns at the improvised shooting range they’ve created for Echo. Now that he can move better he needs to improve his aim to get back to his previous levels; thankfully muscle memory is still a thing, so it’s going faster than anticipated. Still, it’s hard to keep up with an expert marksman such as Crosshair, though Echo likes the challenge.

“Really, you’re recovering much faster that I thought.”

Oh, this is new: usually Crosshair is a man of few words, but today he’s trying to strike a conversation - at least this is how Echo is interpreting it.

“I am, and it’s also thanks to you,” he replies, smiling at him, because it’s true: they’re helping him in many ways that he would’ve never expected, and he’s truly grateful that they’ve taken him in with so little hesitation.

Crosshair reels back like he’s just been hit on his stomach.

“Yeah, right…” he mutters. “Let’s get back to target practice. We’ve lost enough time already…”

A chuckle leaves Echo’s lips.

“Yessir.”

 The way Hunter flirts is different from the others’: it’s less wordy or more physical.

Echo doesn’t mind that at all - it reminds him of Fives actually - but there’s always some hesitation in the way Hunter touches him, though he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s afraid he’d hurt him or because he thinks he might be overstepping some sort of unsaid boundary, which is beginning to unnerve Echo, especially if he’s doing it for the first reason.

Eventually, in fact, he snaps: they’re walking back to the Havoc Marauder, and Hunter’s hand is hovering over Echo’s shoulder, barely touching it. That’s the final straw.

Echo takes Hunter’s hand and draws it closer so that it’s actually resting on his shoulder. There.

“E-Echo?”

“I’m not going to break just because of a touch, Hunter,” he explains.

“O-Of course,” the other stutters, making a pause and then squeezing Echo’s shoulder with his hand. “… Is this okay, then?”

Echo nods, his hand still over Hunter’s.

At least they’re going somewhere…

 “Wait! So you knew?”

Echo laughs at those words. Many things have changed since those awkward flirting attempts, and now Echo can say that he’s officially part of the group, officially as in he now cuddles with them and kisses them and… other stuff too.

“You weren’t exactly subtle,” he says then. He feels Wrecker shift from behind, but he doesn’t move away. He’s not going to lie: he missed cuddle piles, especially with these many people.

“Why didn’t you say anything then?” Tech, settled between his legs, asks.

That surely is a question. Well, there are many reasons why he didn’t say anything at first, but Echo decides to just shrug. “Was funnier.”

He hears chuckling on his left and he turns towards Crosshair.

“I knew there was a reason why I like you.”

Echo doesn’t have the time to say anything because Cross’ lips are on his. He smiles into the kiss, especially when he feels Hunter hugging his waist.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

Yes, it did indeed.

Tag list: @maulusque​ @snap-p​ @menac-ika If you want to be added feel free to let me know! Just know that if you are a minor you’ll be tagged only for the sfw fics.

#assorted clonecest fics #cloneshipping #clonecest #bad batch/echo #echo/hunter #echo/wrecker #echo/tech #crossecho #arc trooper echo #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper tech #clone trooper crosshair #my fics #odekiisu