#this short fic is DONE and it sparks JOY

[kaixserzz]

eons adrift ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ wanderer x gn!reader

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🎐 ꒱ "i'll come and find you in every life celestia will give me." "that's not possible, you and i both know that." "watch me!"

 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ cw: character analysis-ish, mildly proofread, drabble but it's kinda messy, its more like an idea than a fic LOLLL im sorry, hurt/comfort

scaramouche took you for a naive fool, just as he was when oh so stupidly believed those words as kunikuzushi.

you are but a human. a mere breath of his everlasting eternity. a few hundreds of years and he would forget everything about you.

insignificant, you humans were.

frail.

vulnerable.

so so easy to break.

as he walked into the path of darkness; consuming him and turning him into someone he doesn't recognize in the mirror no longer—kabukimono, kunikuzushi, the love of your life, was long gone. memories like the leaves that turn yellow and crumble to ashes as winter approaches.

yet the winter will remain in his empty chest for as long as he walks teyvat. churning into a blizzard of ice cold pain, destroying everything around him as it grows. he continues to walk this wretched path he chose.

but then he met someone, rekindling the spark that was once there beneath his porcelain skin. trying to light up a burn out wick, to bring an end to his winter and bring forth the beautiful spring he was once.

scaramouche never thought he'd love again.

even after all through the pain he went from the doctor's experiments, after roaming the great expanse of the abyss, after becoming the balladeer, the 6th of the fatui harbingers, he still felt.

love.

happiness.

pain.

sorrow.

and regret.

he hates it, but he loves them, just as much as he loved you.

though he allowed someone new worm their way into his heart, he kept them in arm's reach. he cannot bear to be vulnerable to someone else. they were human, they were to die; he is a puppet, he is meant to live on forever.

but then he heard them say things only you would say. giving him lavender melons you bought off the market, accidentally calling him names only you would know.

he remember that promise you made him before you died.

"i'll come and find you in every life celestia will give me."

scaramouche did not understand what he felt when he realized that his new lover, was in fact, just a reincarnation of you. and just like that, your name burns back itself into his mind—a name he thought he had erased into obscurity, along with his past.

he was a fool, scaramouche thought. he laughed at himself, a laugh void of humor, nor joy.

it was your name, your first incarnation, just in a different language.

it appears that scaramouche didn't like this feeling. of bitter butterflies in his stomach, the familiarity when you try to get close to him, the same smile you had, the light full of love in your eyes—it was all too much for him.

so he left you in the snow of his ever growing blizzard. buried under the thick layers of freezing ice.

and again, to your next reincarnation. a fatui, a vendor, an adventurer, a knight, a scholar—male, female, neither, or all of them; tall, short, plump, slim, dark or light skinned,

he cannot bear to lose you just as he first did.

slipping by his fingers, to the one thing he is not affected by.

death.

he doesn't accept the fact that your love has led you back to him, again and again.

why do you even keep coming back? don't you know he's part of the fatui? don't you know what he has done? don't you know what he has become?

and yet you'd knock on his door, calling his name with your voice full of warmth, arms wide for him to take and allow himself to be called yours again—all he had to do was open the door.

he has kept a lock on it ever since he met you again.

worn down and rotten; chains all rusted, handle jammed and barely working. he approaches the door once again. this time, as wanderer. a better version of himself,

one that's finally willing to open the door to you.

but you weren't there anymore, waiting for him on the other side.

how could you? you were never there in the first place.

not with this version of himself.

not as the wanderer.

and maybe that was for the best. even though he cries himself to sleep at night for all the things he has done to you. weeping, as he curls onto the sheets, praying to the stars above in hopes you'd hear his heartbroken apologies, yearning for your love, your touch, your smiles—

this was his punishment for hurting you, for being a fool. he was underserving of your love, after all.

"hey, wanderer, was it?"

a new voice, someone unfamiliar. he refrained from sighing, for buer's sake, and instead took a deep, refreshing breath. he turns, and the stranger smiles brightly at him.

immediately, as if the winds of spring has hit him all so suddenly in the face. the fragrance of blooming flowers that was once buried under the snow, the sun shining brightly in the skies, and birds chirping symphonies.

like the mornings brimming with new found hope, the smell of dew sticking onto his clothes as he trace his fingers all over the a tree's trunk. like the the juices of a fruit he sank his teeth into, dribbling down the corners of his lips and down his arms.

warmth tingled on his skin, and his heart leaps.

"nice to meet you!" you say your name, a name he has heard hundreds of versions before, all so different and yet they all felt and tasted like honey dripping down his tongue. "i hope we get along."

"yeah," he says, almost breathless, as the tears begins to well in his eyes. his fingers tremble, and his smile grew wobbly. tipping his hat down to avoid your gaze, his voice cracks. "i hope so too."

his door was wide open, waiting for you come in.

you grin, and take a step inside.

 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

author's note: "i thought this was a dottore only blog? SHUT UP!!!!! SHUT UP!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹 IM MAD AT MYSELF TOO BUT THIS IS FOR @fatuismooches also new format because im too lazy to open my files :/ not back yet, i just wanna write this for the pookie 💗💗 ty for listening to me ramble like a madman ur single handedly gettin me thru it ong LMAOOO /lh

#favoniuslibrary #˚₊໒🔪꒱kai writes₊˚ #╰┈➤ wanderer #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genhin impact #scaramouche x reader #listening to mitski's new album to this #this is like #so so bad but bear with me #i dont feel well ok 😭😭 #idea came to me while im in the shower

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @thefreakandthehair! With thirty-nine works in the Steve/Eddie and Stranger Things tags on Archive of our Own!

In an underdogfics first, we have TWO nominators!

Our first nominator recommends the following works by @thefreakandthehair:

this is my month, I can feel it. october, baby!

never been afraid of any deviation.

scar-crossed lovers.

the answers are all inside of this.

Our second nominator, @sidekick-hero, recommends the following works by @thefreakandthehair:

over the hills and far away

meeting you was coming home.

make no plans and none can be broken.

rounding third, sliding home.

what's mine is yours (to leave or take)

Lex's brain is full of very creative scenarios, reading her writing is like reading an anthology of short stories but it's with all of your favorite characters! You get to see what they'd do in this AU or that AU, I love the exploration. It's like she's made a stew and it's simmering on the stove and you realize you're so hungry for stew as soon as you see it. <3 -- anonymous

Lex writes characters that come to life on the page while you're reading her stories. It makes it so easy to get invested in them, to feel with them and root for them to get their happy ending. She's one of these authors I would follow anywhere, any trope, any setting and universe, I am here for it. So I think more people should get to find her stories and be treated to the magic. -- @sidekick-hero

Below the cut, @thefreakandthehair answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

How can I possibly give just one reason! These two burrowed themselves into my brain like little gerbils with no hope of ever getting them out. I mean, was I supposed to hear ‘dontcha big boy?’ and be normal about it? But in all seriousness, they’re two sides of the same coin and those oppositions in character are super fun to play with!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

It was tough to choose, but friends to lovers keeps coming up!

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

If I have to choose a particular trope, hurt/comfort would be the closest fit, but in the sense of healing past hurts together as a unit.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This question sent me into an existential crisis and the best I could do is narrow it down to three, and even that was nearly impossible. In no particular order: We’ll Know For The First Time by KikiZ; carve your name into my chest by hexiewrites; and more recently, Among the Wildflowers by ParadimeShifts.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Rivals to Lovers in my football AU! I’ve been so excited to get moving on that one.

What is your writing process like?

Oh, I wish I had a better one. I start with a skeleton outline, pop on some music, and then pick and choose which part of the outline sparks joy in that moment. I rarely, if ever, write chronologically so I just write what feels good in the moment and then go back with a scalpel to create connective tissue.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Definitely writing out of order, I think! And if there’s one thing about me, it’s that someone is gonna have an introspective moment looking up at the stars. Someone told me it’s like my calling card and they’re not wrong.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I like a bit of both. I like to post on a schedule for multi-chapter fics but only after it’s either completely done or mostly done so that there’s no pressure to it.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Over The Hills And Far Away incorporated some personal bits of my past that were equal parts cathartic and difficult to write at times, so I’d have to say that one! It’s really satisfying to take experiences that you regret or that didn’t end the way you’d hoped and give them a different ending in fiction.

How did you get the idea for never been afraid of any deviation?

The Eddie Month prompt for that day! Me and my co-mod for the event, nostalgicbones, included Bad Reputation by Joan Jett as a prompt and as I was listening to it, it got me thinking about how Eddie is someone who cares for those in less than ideal situations— maybe even to the point of weaponizing his own bad reputation to protect someone. In this case, that was Steve!

When writing the answers are all inside of this, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect it to become multiple chapters! That one is part of my So Much For Stardust series (that I haven’t forgotten about, I’ve just been busy with big bangs) so it was based on The Pink Seashell interlude from the album. I still don’t know exactly how a 1-minute interlude turned into a 15k multi-chapter fic, but it was super fun to let go off the rails!

What inspired scar-crossed lovers?

Also a So Much For Stardust series fic, the first one in the series, actually. I heard Heaven, Iowa for the first time and wrote this based on that song in a day. My brain just kept rotating it around like a rotisserie chicken until I wrote it.

What was your favorite part to write from scar-crossed lovers?

This is ironic because I’m not an angst-writer by nature, but writing about the slow deterioration of Eddie’s van as a symbol for the passage of time was really fun to do. Bittersweet, but it was one of those things that I didn’t realize I was doing until I was in the middle of it and once I realized, I just carried it throughout!

How do/did you feel writing never been afraid of any deviation.?

Excited! It was the first time that I wrote pre-s4 steddie (which is wild that in two years, I just wrote that for the first time last fall?) and it was so fun to do!

What was the most difficult part of writing the answers are all inside of this.?

Probably balancing the kids’ voices in the first chapter while still creating tension between Steve and Eddie.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

It isn’t one of the fics listed here, but in no better version I could pretend to be tonight, I loved writing the line “Something about Steve feels like home, and Eddie is only familiar with houses.” Hurt/comfort, my beloved.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I’m planning on taking a break from big bangs for a bit to focus on some super neglected WIPs, so there are a few upcoming fics I’m excited about! My Football AU, an ASMR Artist!Eddie x Insomniac!Steve AU, and I’m working on a fic called Pickup Note with sidekick-hero and firefly-party that I cannot wait to dive into fully.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Just thank you so much for all that you do with this blog! The ship truly exploded overnight and there are so many incredible stories that I’ve completely missed just because they’ve fallen through the cracks. I really appreciate what you’re doing here and the undertaking that it’s been!

Thank you to our author, @thefreakandthehair, and our nominators, anonymous and @sidekick-hero! See more of @thefreakandthehair works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #steddieunderdogfics #writer's wednesday #writer's spotlight #steddie writers

[tackytigerfic]

Hello my beloved 🐯, moon of my life, I’m trying to think of asks I couldn’t possibly know the answer to, so I’m curious about 6 and/or 13 if you’re up for it? If not you can pick your favorite out of the list! - Liv 💜

Livvy my sun and stars, thank you for the ask! I wasn't aware there was anything you don't know about my fic tastes but I will see if I can dig something up!

Number 6 is coming in another ask so I will answer 13.

💌 A fic that inspired you to create something for it

This is an interesting one because I am really bad at creating tailored fics. I try very hard to write gift fics but I usually crumble and fail miserably. See, for instance, this snip from a fic I started which was inspired by lots of amazing fics by @the-starryknight (they're stuck in a dream sea and each dream was going to be a reference to a different Starry fic), or this snip which was meant as a tribute to the way joy has my whole heart in his hand (@ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm). I do hope to finish both of those some day.

I have done some rec lists! This one for @maesterchill, this one for @sweet-s0rr0w, and these short fic recs one and two.

This is not directly related to this ask but art is such a huge part of my fandom experience that it would be rude to overlook the inspirational powers of Drarry artists.

Looking through my old works, I do seem to get a lot of inspiration from art (on that note if any artists ever want to collab pls hit me up, I am too shy to do a big bang but it's less scary to say it on here! i would definitely be interested in potentially offering my services here to write bits and bobs for people's art once I'm finished my long wip! Though as with everything i do i am relentlessly slow and behind so there's that caveat. But i do seem to work visually so art often sparks ideas for me)

All the original art that inspired these is linked in the posts. I have a terrible memory and tumblr does not reliably catalogue things so I hope I am remembering everything.

This piece inspired by art by @littlewinnow

This piece inspired by art by @dragontamerdame

This piece and this piece inspired by art by @fictional

This piece inspired by art from @gryffindorhearts

When I do write gift fics for my fandom friends I try to get in references to the person's own creations. However I have only once ever actively tried to write a version of another fic. It was a fic I had read many years ago and could not for the life of me find again. I wrote this one as a little tribute to that, thinking I'd never find it again. Luckily for me, @lostdrarryfics came to the rescue! Alas the fic was by one of the greatest (imo), and sadly now deleted, HP writers ever, so my own effort paled in comparison! But I was so thrilled to get to revisit it again. It reminded me of how much pleasure this fandom has been bringing me for over half my life now.

#ha omg that went deeper than i thought it would #i do find this fandom endlessly inspiring #but sadly my brain needs to really latch onto something for me to be able to write it #and i can't seem to do that on demand much as i try #alas for tacky #asked and answered #rowing recs #drarry #love you livvy!

[dangerously-human]

💗

💗Is there a scene you can’t wait to write for a WIP?

I don't usually have scenes I'm looking forward to, per se, unless maybe it's been an extremely busy week and I just haven't had the time to get down something I've already envisioned. But if it's that vivid, I'll typically forego sleep a little longer to take advantage of a cooperative muse. No, I am a big believer in hopping around to whatever I'm inspired by or whatever is sparking joy in the moment, and then I'll go back and link it all together later. That said: I recently realized the Lucy POV companion to the Catholic Lockwood/hands fic really should be a second chapter, not its own work in a series. The only reason I separated them before was because Lucy's scene was supposed to be done first, and separate works is easier to post out of order. Ah, but the deeper I got into Lockwood's section, the more I realized I need a bit more space to address The Themes. (Not that it's that long of a fanfic, tbh, simply bigger in length and scope than I initially set out to write.) All of which means I've been spending a good bit of time pondering Lucy's relationship to religion and how, in the context of this short fic anyway, she would end up thinking about Christianity in any real sense. It's interesting, teasing apart what would prompt each of these two to pray a desperate, wordless sort of prayer, something they don't even necessarily expect to be heard but they've got to try something. I'm still trying to piece it all together and understand the vibe, so it's not quite ready to be put to page yet; hence that's the scene I'm most looking forward to writing at the moment.

#personal #writer probs: fanfic edition

[magpiefngrl]

8, 14 & a wildcard of your choice for the love your fandom asks, pls and thank youuuuu!! if those do not spark joy for any reason or you've done them, feel free to swap out for anything you like!! xox

Hello, hello! Thanks for the ask xx

8. you hope more people will come to appreciate ___ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc)

I wrote a Voldemort Wins AU (The Boy Who Died) four years ago and I'd love to see more stories or art exploring that AU. There are so many juicy directions one can take it and I love me some angst. (I think there's been a few fics featuring a Voldemort Wins AU since I wrote TBWD, I should prob go track them down.) I know Voldemort Wins AU is a hard-sell, dystopian settings aren't what drarry fans tend to flock to, but I'm very much here for it.

14. the ship that always makes you smile

Oh that's actually a hard one, because drarry authors explore so many combinations of ships and rarepairs and it's very tough to choose. Also, although I love some rarepairs a normal amount, they often don't make me smile as such (prongsfoot is mostly about the angst and the sex, for example).

But you know who makes me smile, even now as I'm thinking about them? Luna and Neville. He's incredibly shy and awkward and she doesn't give a fuck about conventions: they're the cutest.

Wildcard! I used a random generator:

24. how has fandom positively impacted your life?

Oh thank you, random generator, awesome question!

Fandom has made a huge, real life difference to my life. I know I'm a bit absent now because I've learned that less is more (for me) regarding the time I spend on fandom, but the benefits have been immense.

First and foremost, I've made some very good friends. I've met several of them in real life too. I spent 4 days in Bologna with a fandom pal. I have people I chat to fairly regularly and I know I can rely on them for writing advice or just to be there when I need to vent.

Second, before fandom, I'd been writing original for a long time. Although I'd written a few short stories, I struggled with finishing a longer fic. I thought I'd never be able to do it. And lo and behold, when I fell into drarry, I completed a 36k fic! The longest completed work I'd managed back then. It gave me the confidence to know that I can finish longer works, I'm not incapable of it. I also learned what kind of writer I am. When I wrote original, I was inexperienced and I consulted a lot of websites about writing advice which is all SHIT (ask me about it) and it was one of the main reasons I'd struggled. But fanfic took the pressure of this-will-be-seen-by-agents-so-it'd-better-be-perfect. I wrote for fun and discovered my writing process along the way. This was an invaluable gift.

Third and equally important, being in fandom and writing fanfic in the heyday of a super popular ship gave me the recognition I was starved for. Writing alone in a solitary room can make one doubt whether she's any good or whether she's kidding herself. But receiving comments on my stories, knowing hundreds of eyes have seen them, possibly thousands, gave me the warmth and joy and reassurance that perhaps, if I am lucky and try hard, I can touch some people's hearts. That my writing isn't ridiculous or a waste of time or that I'm kidding myself. Again: an invaluable gift.

love your fandom asks

#inbox #drarry #love your fandom asks #voldemort wins au

[cloudymistedskies]

“Self-blame and regrets”

Marimui fic (For the Marimui week)

Mari takes all the necessary items, and adjusted her clothes. She was gonna go inform her family that her older sister, Riko has passed away, along with handing them their shared inheritance. She knew that the kakushis could’ve done it themselves, but she felt like it would bring more closure if she were to do it herself. As she was about to take a step, a familiar voice calls out to her.

“Mari!” And the next thing she knew, Muichiro was right by her side with a slightly worried expression. The brunette turns to him, curious about what he wants.

“Mui? Is there something you need?” She softly asked, holding the inheritance in her hands. She already prepared food and everything as she’ll be gone for at least until dawn.

“I wanted to come along with you…” He responded, resting his hand on the girl’s shoulder. Looking into her green eyes, what once was a joy-filled and bright was now more gloomy and overall… empty in a way. Riko’s death really took an impact on her.

“It’s fine, really… I’m gonna be walking on foot, so it might be tiring for you…” Mari reassured, smiling a little at the ravenette, which Muichiro could immediately tell it was forced.

“Plus… If you do feel lonely, you could always visit Tanjiro and the others.” She added, slightly tilting her head. Muichiro shook his head, however.

“No, no… I insist. Knowing your habits, I wouldn’t want you to get lost while visiting them.” The boy would then take some of the inheritance from Mari so she would be carrying less.

“And I’m a hashira! …Or was a hashira. Considering that the corps is now disbanded. If anything, I should be worried about you getting tired.” He continued, chuckling and grinning at his beloved. Muichiro made a good point… And it doesn’t hurt to let him accompany her. Mari lets out a small sigh, his mint-green eyes sparked in excitement.

“Alriiight… I’ll let you come along.” The short-haired girl quickly gave in to his wishes, much to his delight. He interlocks his arm around Mari’s and the two headed out to Mari’s relatives.

They first went to the Minami’s. After arriving at their doorstep, Mari was hesitant on knocking. She knew the news would upset them. As her mind was spiraling, it was suddenly interrupted when Muichiro gently caressed her back, causing Mari to look at the boy. His expression was reassuring and telling her that she’ll be okay. That was enough to soothe the brunette and so she knocked on the door. Moments later, Mari’s aunt opened and her eyes widened as she sees the young short-haired girl before her.

“Mari…” The older woman muttered, before quickly hugging her, tightly. Muichiro stood behind them, watching the older woman engulfing Mari into a warm embrace. It was a heartwarming scene to him. He could hear the woman mumbling about how relieved she is that Mari is alright and well... Atleast physically…

The woman would soon stop embracing and placed her hands on the young brunette’s shoulders. As she was about to say something, she noticed something peculiarly off.

"Where's your sister, Mari?" Mrs. Minami asked, her expression changed to a more anxious one, as if she likely knew what the answer was. Her suspicions were confirmed when Mari's expression darkened, now looking down. Tears were threatening to fall down from her green eyes. Knowing that even saying the words was too much for her, Muichiro decided to take the role of informing her aunt.

"She unfortunately passed. I heard that she did so to protect Mari." The boy informed the devastating news. Despite already expecting that type of outcome, Mrs. Minami was still devastated to hear that one of her nieces died.

"I'm really...really sorry to hear that..." The older woman pulled Mari into another embrace, this time caressing her back to soothe the younger girl. Mari wasn't making any peep, but tears streamed down to her face, making both Muichiro and Mrs. Minami feel more empathy towards the brunette.

The three had a moment of silence, before Mari broke it by speaking up.

"I'm... Also here to deliver her shared inheritance..." She mumbled, taking the bag she was holding and handing it to her aunt. The older woman only silently responded by nodding and taking the bag from Mari.

"I see... I'm still really sorry for what happened, dear..."

"Mhm... We should head going now... I... Still have to tell our parents..." Mari would then turn her heel and began walking off before anybody could respond. Muichiro looked at Mrs. Minami, his expression became confused when he sees hers plastered with concern, and a hint of fear.

"Mrs...Minami?" The boy's voice startled her for a moment, quickly shooking her head and looking at the young boy. She seemed like she wanted to say something but was hesitant.

"..." A few seconds later, she would finally say something before heading back inside.

"...If anything happens, please try to stop her... This could be a very hard pill to swallow for my sister..."

Those words confused Muichiro. But he didn't have anytime to think about it as he had to catch up with Mari. She was already a little far ahead but he was able to catch up with her after a bit.

Soon after, they reached the small village where Mari grew up in. Muichiro has never been here before, despite the village being near the mountains. But Muichiro did live at the peak where one has to hike up there.

As the two were finding the Kaizumi residence, the long haired boy noticed the brunette becoming more dreadful than before. As if, she didn't wanna do this but she knew she had to. Muichiro didn't understand as to why she was like that. Perhaps it's cause she's concerned about her parents' reactions? He has never met her parents before, anyway...

Mari and Muichiro eventually found her home. This time, she stared at it with nothing but pure fear. The brunette tried to calm herself and hid her fear by showing a more neutral expression. She tried to knock on the door, but was completely hesitant this time. Mari couldn't bring herself to knock. She slowly turned to Muichiro with a sheepish look on her face.

"...Could you knock for me, Muichiro?" Mari softly asked, in hopes the long haired boy would do so for her. To which, he did and knocked on the door. After doing that, he would slowly and gently interlock his hand with hers, rubbing his thumb slowly on it in an attempt to soothe her. It worked just a little...

Soon after, an older woman answered the door. Her features were similar to Mari. Brown hair, green eyes. But the difference was that her skin was lighter and her eye structure was different to Mari's. The woman looked confused for a moment before realizing the young girl was her daughter.

"Marilyn. What are you doing here? And who is that?" The woman pointed to the long haired boy, arching an eyebrow.

"Ah. I'm Muichiro Tokito. I'm just here to accompany your daughter, Mrs. Kaizumi." Muichiro introduces himself, bowing in a form of respect. The woman did the same. For some reason, Muichiro didn't like the woman at first sight. He didn't know why, but something tells him she's... likely not the best type of person.

"Is there a reason why you're here, Marilyn? And where's Riko at?" Mari's mother inquired. The younger brunette became more nervous, but hid it from her. Her sorrow is still painted over her face.

"... Riko...Died..." Those were all the words Mari could muster up, before preparing for the worse. The woman stood idly, shocked at the news her young daughter just gave. She was kidding, right? Before she could even respond, Muichiro spoke up.

"...It's true. She died a few weeks ago to protect Mari, and Mari is here to deliver the inheritance your late daughter has given to you." The boy added, showing a face filled with empathy.

The mother was stunned. A tear streamed down from her eye. Then her expression changed from shocked to fury with a hint of sorrow. In a split second, she harshly grabbed her daughter’s shoulders, causing Mari to flinch.

“Riko… Riko died for you…?!” Mari’s mother couldn’t comprehend the statement. The young brunette only nodded in response, already expecting her mother to outburst and taking it out on her. Muichiro was standing before them, watching the scene unfold. He watched as the older woman takes out her grief and anger towards her only daughter who was still alive.

“Why… Why did you even SURVIVE when your sister didn’t?! Why was she so considerate for you over herself?!”

The boy was shocked about how her mother reacted, and he felt anger starting to boil up inside him. Sure, he knew she was hurt and miserable by the news and had every right to be. But to take it out on her only daughter who was grieving too. And the worst part is that Mari wasn’t doing anything but let her mother pour her misery all over her.

This went on for a while. The mom taking out her grief towards her daughter and the latter does nothing to stop.

He had enough.

Muichiro would step in and harshly grab the older woman’s arm, startling the two and averting their attention to the long haired boy. He had his eyes narrowed.

“I’ve had enough of you and your bullshit.” He hissed, his mint-green eyes glaring at Mari’s mother. Mari’s eyes widened, panicking a little.

“M-Muichiro…! I don’t think you should—“

“I should and I will.” The long haired boy cuts her off, standing his ground. He has noticed Mari never feeling comfortable talking about her own mother and he already knew that she wasn’t the best but didn’t wanna judge too much. But he didn’t expect him to be this bad.

“You’re not the only one who’s grieving over Riko’s death. Mari is also dealing with the loss horribly, especially since she blames herself for what happened to her. I understand your frustrations, but I will not stand with letting you take out your pent up sadness to your only child that’s still alive.” Muichiro continued, his tone of voice was laced with anger. He puts emphasis on the word ‘only’. Mari’s mother looks at the younger boy, feeling somewhat threatened by him. His sharp glares could stab anyone.

Mari quickly breaks them off before anything worse happened, her green eyes filled with anxiousness as she quickly handed her mom the inheritance her late sister left for her.

"...I'm sorry about Muichiro." Mari apologizes to her mother. As much as she wanted to express her anger to her mother too, she just doesn't want to cause a scene, especially where people could see. Not that she didn't do it to her before.

Muichiro wanted to protest, but looking at Mari's expression made him think twice. He still wanted to blow up on her mother, but knew he had to respect Mari's wishes. The young brunette sighed, then faced to Muichiro, and beckoned him to follow her as she started to walk off. The ravenette boy nodded at her.

"In a bit, Mari." He quickly said before facing back to her mother, his once calm smile was now replaced with a cold glare when he looked at the older woman.

"That will be all. Please never contact me nor Mari ever again." The mint-green boy told her before turning his heel and catching up with the short-haired girl.

line here

The two young people were walking back to the mansion, Mari's head faced down to the ground while Muichiro was guiding her to the path. She was still thinking about her mother's words and it was consuming her mind.

The ravenette looks at the girl who has a guilt-ridden look on her face. He was about to speak up, but Mari spoke first.

"..I'm sorry about my mom. I should've went there, myself..." She mumbled, biting her bottom lip right after. Mari wanted to cry right then and there, but didn't wanna cause more problems for him.

Muichiro shook his head, obviously against her words before speaking

"You have no reason to apologize, Mari. Your mother should be the one apologizing for what she did. To blame you for your sister's death and wishing you were the one who died again? She should at least be grateful that you're still here." The long haired boy balled up one of his fists, silently wishing he could've done more than just spat her mother out.

"... I wished I was the one who died instead." The words that left Mari's mouth made Muichiro pause and faced her with a concerned expression. It was expected, but it still didn't concern him less. The young girl would then continue.

"It was my fault that my... my sister is now dead. I-If I didn't have a panic attack while fighting off the demons in the fortress... If I was running right behind her instead of the opposite... If I just... took her place, m-my mother wouldn't be grieving since she would still be here! I shouldn't--"

Mari was immediately cut off when she was suddenly smacked by the head by Muichiro, nearly tripping off of her feet but he quickly catched her before she would hit the ground. The long-haired boy would help her off of her feet.

"...Ow..."

"I'm sorry for the sudden smack, but I just didn't want to listen to you blame yourself any further." He would gently massage her head right after, using his thumb to wipe off the tears off of Mari's face, which she didn't realize she was even tearing up until now.

"Mari... Your sister would've wanted you to live. I observed how much she cared for you. She'd do anything for you to be standing here and breathing instead of being buried." Muichiro said, his voice filled with emotion. Riko reminded him of his late older twin brother who sacrificed his own life for the sake of saving Muichiro and letting him live. His words seem to take an effect on Mari, seemingly calming down a little.

Muichiro gently cupped her face with both of his hands before leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. He looks down at the brunette, smiling softly.

"She would've told you to live on for her..." He added, his voice now a whisper. Tears began to form on Mari's face and she enveloped the long haired boy into a hug, burying her face in his chest as she silently cried into his arms.

Muichiro's expression softened, his lips drooped down as he soothed Mari's back. Her tears were staining the collared shirt he's wearing, but he could care less.

He knew this wasn't gonna be easy for her. She could probably change as a different person while she grieved. But even if those possibilities could happen, he promises to himself that he'll be there for Mari no matter what. He'll try to help her in any way he could. He'll make sure that the same smile Mari always had will appear once again, even if it'll take years.

"Let's get back home now, Mari..."

Taisho era secret:

Mari’s mother actually ended up writing a letter to Mari a few months later, but Mari never responded back. She couldn’t find herself to forgive her for everything she said and done

Link to the Marimui week post!

#Marimui ship week #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny oc #demon slayer oc #kimetsu no yaiba oc #muichiro tokito #kny muichiro #oc x canon #oc x canon shipping #oc x anime #oc x cc #oc x character #oc x muichiro

[llliiinnnaaa]

Reprisal | Chapter Ten

coriolanus snow x gaul oc

Summary: Ten years after the Tenth Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow is under Dr. Volumnia Gaul’s wing as a Gamemaker alongside her niece. Unbeknownst to either of them, they’re both being prepared for a much greater task.

Warning: This story will contain explicit violence against adults and children alike (I mean, it’s Dr. Gaul AND Snow) as well as explicit language, and sexual situations.

***This fic is in no way, shape, or form, me endorsing or co-signing the horrific shit Snow does, nor am I trying to romanticize it. Also, apathy and will be the main driving force of any remnants of a relationship between my OC and Snow’s character. So if you’re interested in something very romantic and fluffy…it’s not gonna be this.

Thank you for reading!

      Snow lands on top .

Coriolanus’ jaw clenches and relaxes, repeating the words to himself throughout the reaping, his leg shaking lightly with the impatient, silent pattering of his shoe against the marbled floor. 

“ They’ve replaced Dr. Crane’s subject with Martia Glint’s, and only revealed they had done so in front of the President. ” Philo had said only that, randomly, out of nowhere, Snow having not even realized he had snuck back inside. 

It was laughable, almost. 

Almost . 

Livia glances at her husband, his chest just barely heaving, his leg just barely moving, and her dark blonde brows furrow in concern, her own thoughts running wild with whatever might be the issue – though she has her suspicions.

Certainly it’s due to her surprising him at breakfast with a little red dress, trimmed in delicate lace, the garment waiting on the table beside his coffee and breakfast.

She watched his blue eyes study it, picking it up and staring before looking at her.

“ . . . That’s why I cut my trip short.” She had explained, smiling. “Mother took me to the clinic yesterday because I wasn’t feeling right . . . I’m so far along they could see it was a girl .” 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind actually drew a blank line as he thought of his future, her future, now that they’d have a child to raise and incorporate into it, as well. 

Then his thoughts began to turn. 

Had she known and just not told him? Had they not agreed to hold off on children until they’d accomplished the goal in their careers that they were already so near to reaching? 

Had she planned to do this without telling him?

Snow started to feel somewhat trapped, but nevertheless, he bore a smile and watery eyes – filled with tears of joy or sorrow, he couldn’t tell for certain. 

“ Is she healthy? ” He asked, his question sparked delight in Livia’s grey-blue eyes. 

“ She is. ” She assured him. “ I counted all ten toes and fingers myself, her heart sounds strong . . . she’s healthy, and she’s beautiful. ” She added. 

He could at least appreciate the poetry of finding out he’d take part in bringing a new life into the world on the same day District children would be reaped to be possibly taken out of it. 

His hand had come up to splay across her stomach that hadn’t grown much at all, not enough to make either of them think she had been pregnant. 

Horror stories had been heard of women going the entirety of their pregnancy without realizing it, only to deliver it themselves.

His lips turned downward at the thought of his wife ruining the sparkling white of their bathroom with the mess that is birth, bringing their baby into the world on the cold floor, no medication to dull the pain he can only imagine to be excruciating. 

Coriolanus had then thought of his mother, sweet and naive as she had been, too good to die the way that she had. 

Livia would be different, he had decided then and there, as he wrapped his arms around her where he sat at the table, and pressed his cheek against her while her soft hands had rubbed at his shoulders.

One of those same hands now rest on his thigh, stopping the motion of his leg. 

He looks at her, seeing the worry on her made-up face.

She thinks you’re this way because of her, because of her pregnancy, he tells himself. 

He’ll explain it all when they leave. 

Looking at Dr. Gaul makes him sick.

He hasn’t felt this exact pain of betrayal since the girl he refuses to name anymore.

Volumnia had practically raised him in his profession, she encouraged him, mentored him, guided his every move to ensure his success. 

He assumed she would do the same – possibly more so – since she had been the one to pair him with her own niece. 

Did she not want to see Tawny succeed? To carry out the Gaul legacy of Gamemaking?

His mind drifts, worry then seeping through.

Does she know? He asks him, beginning to wonder if Dr. Gaul had seen the little glances Snow and Dr. Crane would exchange. If she had taken notice that every now and then, he would lose his own control for just a split second and his blue eyes would trail to Tawny’s full lips, picturing them on him, around him, moaning out his name. . .

Perhaps replacing Dr. Crane’s subject was a punishment, a way of lashing Coriolanus and Tawny for their lack of propriety . 

Heterochromatic eyes meet his as she announces the last two tributes from District 12, the boy and girl showing on the screen, her stare lingering. 

Usually he’d offer a small smile of acknowledgement, endearing and admirable because of how highly he thinks of her.

But he can’t bring himself to do so, now, his jaw tight and gritting, his blue eyes doused in rage.

He refuses to pretend, he refuses to play nice. 

Dr. Gaul is one of several on the Board that has now made an enemy of him, whether she realizes it or not.

He decides that perhaps she does realize it, based on the knowing little nod of her head to him. 

      She had done just what she said she would.

The private pool of their apartment building is empty, everyone inside with their eyes glued to a screen, viewing the coverage of the Reaping that Lucky Flickerman was currently reiterating. 

It’s just Tawny, her third fruity cocktail, the sun, and the sparkle off the blue water that she’s laid out beside in a drunk, exhausted haze. 

She stays like it for hours, reapplying her sun cream as best as she can, eventually lying down in one of the cabana’s until her skin starts to burn.

After her sixth hour, her forth drink, and the sun starting to set, she feels a pull at her foot. 

Opening her eyes, her dad’s crawling in as best as he can to lay beside her. 

She reeks of sunscreen, strawberry syrup and liquor, her eyes look red from crying – and also the sting of her sunscreen getting into them after mingling with her tears – she’s pathetic, defeated, completely not a Gaul, at all.

He hasn’t seen her this way since Tullia was killed. 

“Tawny Owl,” He starts with her childhood nickname, the very thing she had been named after . . . he doesn’t quite know what to say next, having been informed of what had happened by Dyess.

Tiberius didn’t appreciate that his sister nor Tawny’s husband hadn't attempted to even take up for Tawny – or even make her aware of a situation they both seemed to know of. 

He didn’t like that the embarrassment of his daughter had come across so personally. 

Tawny lays on her side, covered up to her chin with her towel, sniffling in her half-asleep, half-wasted stupor. 

“I’m so humiliated.” She whispers it hoarsely, her father’s wrinkled fingers wiping at her tears as he says, “You did the best you could do, Tawny. You did your best. If it wasn’t good enough for any of them, then that’s their problem.”

“President Ravinstill looked at me like I was . . .” She trails off, struggling to put it into words, the expression on the man’s face having been that of slight annoyance and concern – he looked at her like she was mentally unstable. 

She had to have been to speak out of place to him. 

And the way Dyess spoke up and asked the President to excuse her, as if she did have something wrong with her and didn’t know any better. 

“ . . . I’m so humiliated.” Is all she says, again, to finish her thought.

“President Ravinstill’s on his last leg, Tawny. He doesn’t know if he’s coming or going.” He states, scoffing, pulling a small, sad smile from his daughter. “I wouldn’t give a damn what he or anyone else has to think of you. Not your aunt, not your husband, not Snow. Not even me or your mother.” He continues. “If you know you are good at what you do, if you know your work deserved to be in these Games, if you know you have earned every bit of the respect owed to you, then that is all that matters. You keep your head held high and you figure something else out.” He finishes. 

“Because I’m a Gaul? And that’s just what we do?” She sarcastically scoffs it out, having already accepted that she’s never going to live up to her maiden name.

“Because you’re a Tawny .” He says, instead, as if it’s much simpler yet far more important. “And keeping your head up and figuring something else out is not something inherited from me, or your aunt, or your grandparents, or great-grandparents . . . it’s not something that comes with the ancestral name. It’s something you learned how to do when it was just you and your mother while me and your brothers were away. It’s something Tawny does. Not Gauls as a whole.”

She wants to argue with him, she wants to tell him that it indeed is something she inherited from him, having seen him do so himself for decades – particularly when he returned from the war with part of his leg gone, his sons all dead, and his wife gone to spend time in the company of other men. 

He was nonchalant about his leg – prideful – but still nonchalant, as if navigating and re-working how he did certain things to better accommodate part of his missing limb wouldn’t be an uphill battle or nuisance beyond belief. 

He grieved his children, putting their medals and flags on display in their living room. 

He was patient with her mother — far more patient than Tawny would have ever been able to be had she returned home from fighting in a war to find her spouse had been selling themselves  and didn’t stop upon her return. 

But he rarely complained about any of it, he rarely made fuss, he kept his chin up and worked through all of it. He figured it out. 

“Now, you can be a Gamescientist or a Gamemaker – or Head Gamemaker – or a Housewife, it doesn’t matter. You’ve earned all of it all the same.” He concludes with a shrug, wiping at more tears that streak down her face.

“I think I’ll just be a housewife for right now.” She states with a chuckle despite still crying, trying to harbor some of the positivity Tiberius is exuding. 

“Well, then, I know you’ll be the best damn housewife one could be.” He states for certain, a laugh now coming from her as she says, “I love you.”

He pats her cheek, smiling widely as he replies, “I love you even more.” 

He kisses her forehead and sits up, sighing out, “Now, come on. Your mother is cooking dinner. Don’t make me suffer through it alone.” 

Another laugh leaves her as he grabs her hand and helps pull her up, Tawny wrapping the towel around herself so she won’t be out in a swimsuit just for anyone in the apartment building to see. 

Once they reach the apartment, Tawny holding tightly to her father’s hand to keep from stumbling around, Tiberius announces, “Look who I found!”

“Oh, wonderful, just in time for dinner.” Minerva says back from the kitchen, kissing her husband’s cheek as the two of them join her.

She gently pats Tawny’s cheek with her palm, kissing her other cheek and hugging her, not caring that Tawny’s skin is sticky with reapplied sun cream, sweat, and liquor that is surely seeping from her pores at this point.

“It’ll work out, dear.” She assures Tawny, patting her back a couple times before pulling away.

“I’m going to shower, then I’ll eat.” Tawny informs them.

Dyess is finishing his dinner, having not waited for Tiberius to retrieve his pouting child from the pool.

He doesn’t acknowledge his wife as she walks past – still quite cross with her about how she behaved earlier in front of the damn President himself, irritated that she had left without telling anyone.

 Tawny doesn’t acknowledge him, either. 

She showers, scrubbing herself clean, already feeling somewhat better when she’s finished.

Joining her family in leisure shorts and a tank top, she steps out of her room.

“We have a guest.” Her mother says, having heard her before Tawny rounds the corner to the kitchen, stopping in her tracks at the sight of him.  

Coriolanus stands to his feet upon seeing her. 

She said she’s going to spend her summers by a pool from now on, that she’s quitting , Philo’s words come back to him as he looks at her.

Initially, Snow had been disgusted by Mr. Marius’ recount of Tawny’s words. 

But now he has to force his eyes from catching on her chest, or her exposed thighs, and keep from picturing her in a swimsuit, stretched out in the sun. 

He’s still in his suit he’d worn to the Reaping, he and Livia doing their diligent fair share of mingling afterward.

He looks just as beaten as she does, his polite smile he’d worn for her parents and husband dissipates.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” He starts it with a lie, “But I’m afraid we need to discuss some things concerning our work given the sudden turn of today’s events.” 

She’s tempted to glare at her husband whose seated on the sofa next to her father, watching Capitol TV, pretending not to be listening to their conversation.

“Yes, we do.” She agrees, looking to her mother.

There’s nowhere safe for them to speak freely in here, not without whispering or just writing what they want to say on a piece of paper and sliding it back and forth.

Minerva takes notice of their hesitation and clears her throat to get their attention. 

“The roof.” She mouths to her daughter.

It’s a small reminder that she’s also on Tawny’s side in this.

Not a word is spoken between Snow and Dr. Crane as they make their way up to the roof.

It isn’t until they’re breathing night air, doused in firework residue that Tawny asks, “What did Dyess say to you at the restaurant?”

Coriolanus takes in a breath, their affair the last thing he wants to speak about at the moment. 

“Our work – which was supposed to be featured in the Games in a couple days – was replaced, and neither of us had been made aware of it, which caused you to unofficially resign, and set us right back to square one. But you want to discuss what petty thing your husband said to me a couple nights ago? That’s your concern?”

“The way he was acting – he knows . Even if he doesn’t realize it just yet, he does, in fact, know. And being that my career is already shot to oblivion and all I’ve got left is my reputation as a decent wife: yes . Yes , Mr. Snow. My husband finding out I am for certain having an affair is my concern. Because I can’t have a failed career, and a failed marriage.”

“Oh, please, Tawny, that’s not –”

“It’s not what?!” She cuts him short, raising her voice at him. “You have a scandal and it’ll probably be a pat on the back for being such a charmer, I have a scandal – a failed career, a failed marriage –”

“ – Your marriage failed ages ago!” He’s had enough, snapping it out, sick of hiding it, sick of covering up the truth that’s so badly needed to be free.

Sick of keeping Dyess Crane’s secret for Dr. Gaul, when Dr. Gaul can’t even remain loyal to him.

Tawny furrows her brows, her face twisting in confusion.

“ What ?” She asks him, looking at his back that he turns to her to gain his composure once more.

He wants to be able to better articulate what all he’d been needing to, ever since he found it out himself weeks ago.

Reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket, he’s plucking the syringe that had first been discovered in Dyess’ office trash.

The syringe her own husband had used to overdose her subject on iron. 

He turns to her, grabbing her hand in his, placing the syringe in hers.

She furrows her brows, looking at it. 

“What’s this?” She asks him, popping the cap off to see the thick needle before replacing it.

“Your late anniversary present from me.” He mutters.

He does think of it as his present, now, despite it being from Dr. Gaul originally. 

She was going to let Tawny be blindsided with Dyess’ arrest, the mandatory dissolution of their marriage before he’d be shipped off as a Peacekeeper.

But Snow had taken matters into his own hands, beating Dr. Gaul and Dyess both at their own individual games.

Killing two birds with one stone.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x oc #coriolanus snow smut #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x gaul oc

[genyathefirebird]

⭐️ End of year questions ⭐️

Thank you to @mekana47 for tagging me in. I was feeling a little down-in-the-dumps since I haven't written a lot (arbitrary I know, but compared to the last few years), but these questions were nice and turns out I am proud of what I've done.

Tagging in @ongreenergrasses @strangesmallbard @melodious-madrigals @aphroditestummyrolls @lttrsfrmlnrrgby if you want to play and anyone else who has been writing and arting and crafting!

What is your favourite thing you created?

the ties that bind us - my first fic of the year and a fun splash around in magic realism in the world of The English where Cornelian Whipp sees threads of destiny and we follow as she finds love and revenge. There was a lot in the show’s costume design and fashion at the time that I got to read around but it was really sparked by Emily Blunt's delivery on her lines about there being magic.

Which work are you proudest of?

I try to sing a melody (your way) - a Piranesi fic in the voice of the House. I wanted to play with a setting-voice for a long time and the House was the perfect sandbox and I got to walk a few more halls and staircases before reaching the roof to look down on all its infinite kindness

Is there anything you are proud of that you achieved this year?

love, the armour saints wear - this one is a Grishaverse fic. Genya is a fascinating character and this is where I got to put the young Tailor under a microscope and explore her as the asset others view her as. As a treat I also threw in a splash of the ongoing tussle between the verse's most dysfunctional mother and son. Baghra is hilariously fun to write.

Did you explore anything new this year? (A new way to be creative, a trope you didn’t write before, or an idea you hadn’t thought of earlier, etc.)

I committed to submitting an original short story to a lit magazine (which has now shut down). Touch Of The Sun was a coming-of-age sci-fi about a young girl Asha and life living underground on a sun-scorched Earth. It was fun to write for a different purpose, but now I'm not too sure what to do with it. I will be writing more original pieces though.

Which work gave you the most difficulty?

keep me searching for a heart of gold - La'an, oh La'an, you know sometimes you come across a character you share a little facet of personality with, or more than a few? Anyway, this has stalled a little both because of its angst and also because of writer's block, so I guess we're both in this time loop.

What was your biggest creative challenge this year?

Boring, but I've not been well so trying to find some free time to sit down where I have motivation and energy to write has been The Challenge. It's meant I've had to change my habits (easier than I thought) and also try to be kinder to myself about not-writing (harder than it should be).

Which work brought you the most joy?

we can't keep meeting like this - funnily enough, it's a bit of a mirror to I will share your road, the Andy and The Doctor fic I wrote a while back, in that she repeatedly meets another long-lived acquaintance… Death. Bashed this one out fairly quick and I like the way I wrote their recognition-to-friendship. It was also fun plotting out their meeting points across time and a map.

Which of your works do you think people should check out?

Anything you want! The mix of fandoms and genres and concepts continues to grow.

Do you have creative plans for next year? Is there anything exciting you’re currently working on?

I have two upcoming fics in my Genya the Firebird series. One is the multichaptered story and a twist on the Firebird tale, and the second is a tooth rottingly sweet but angsty one shot. I want to write the first draft in full before I post anything which is why it may be some more months.

Lastly, any words of wisdom or anything else you would like to share?

Nothing revelatory but 3 things that have helped me this year…

1) If you're not happy with your writing or fic goals, change them!

2) If you want to write something, write it because your first audience is you!

3) If there's a story type or a trope that you enjoy, remember you're never limited to writing it once!

Happy New Year and hope 2024 brings you much enjoyment for whatever you're working on! 💜💜💜

[oflights]

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

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

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

i'll do 19 last 🥰

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ask me fic writer things!

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

[voxofthevoid]

i shall ask once more. \o/ 12, 26, 39 (is there another snippet in stock, void-sama?) and 55! <3

Welcome back 💚

List of questions here

(I should start keeping a list of things people call me on Tumblr...)

12. How does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

Like I said in response to another of these questions, I am not immune to having expectations...which have admittedly been skewed by hanging around in MCU/stucky (guys, you spoiled me).

Receiving feedback makes me happy, often derangedly happy. There's that simple pleasure in sharing something I made—something I put a lot of time, effort, and joy into—and seeing it have an effect on other people. There's a reason I reread my comments (and Tumblr tags, when applicable) a zillion times.

Not receiving it is predictably disappointing, though the intensity varies a lot with my level of investment in the fandom/ship and, more importantly, the particular story. You know those jokes about how the fics we work most on and are most proud of tend to be less well received than something we throw together in a hurry? Yeah, that's always an...interesting experience.

What feedback doesn't affect is whether I write or what I write. This wasn't the case until last year or so, but now, nearly everything I post is already fully written and being posted on a monthly schedule. It spares me from being discouraged in the middle of writing a fic. Similarly, darkfic tends to not be as popular as fluff or even hurt/comfort, but literally nothing else sparks up my brain like some gourmet fuckery, so nothing's going to make me stop writing those stories.

...holy shit, that got long.

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

THE FUCKING KIDNAPPING FIC

I cannot tell you how weird/wild it is that this thing unraveled the way it did. I know I post a lot of multichapters for JJK, but I don't really consider them multichaps as such. More like...six-shots or something (don't ask). I was content poking at porny bits of canon divergence scenarios.

And then @nearalways asked one(1) question: What'd have happened if Yuuji had chosen not to be Sukuna's host when Gojou tells him to choose his hell? We'd also been talking a lot about how dead-eyed and done Yuuji looked in most of his middle school-era flashbacks. Long story very short, I wrote a 119k answer that has done irreparable damage to my sanity and irrevocably changed how I write Gojou in particular.

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

I always have snippets! Especially since I've got some...300k of JJK fic I haven't even posted yet. You can find it under the cut.

55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

Yuuji, hands down. The whole reason I'm even in this fandom is because I adore that kid. I haven't been this fascinated by a shonen MC in ages. Me being me, this does mean I put him through unimaginable horrors though!

And no, not at all. You, uh, might notice that I tend to be very set in my opinions 😂

Snippet here:

Yuuji yanks at the hand pinning him down.

There’s a moment where it works. Gojou’s fingers loosen, and his whole rhythm falters, and Yuuji almost, almost frees himself, wholly intent on flipping them over, but then there’s a soft breath of laughter, and a second hand clamps down on the wrist Yuuji has nearly wrenched free.

He makes a furious final attempt, throwing the whole of his strength into it, but this time, Gojou’s hold doesn’t waver for even a second. He’s grinning down at Yuuji, the devil on his lips.

“Devious,” Gojou tells him; it sounds like a compliment. “You’ve grown stronger, Yuuji—much, much stronger.”

And that sounds like pure sex.

Yuuji’s hips buck up helplessly, and Gojou bears down against him, pinning him there too.

“Clearly,” Yuuji hisses through clenched teeth, “not enough.”

“I’m a different kind of beast,” Gojou says easily. His eyes grow heavy-lidded. “But one day soon, Yuuji, you’ll be able to hurt me. Really hurt me. Won’t that be fun?”

Yuuji’s brain is abruptly yanked away from his dick and shoved back into his skull. “What? No! I don’t want that!”

“Of course you do,” Gojou says, laughing. “You will. It’s alright. I’ll let you.”

“Gojou-sensei—”

“But that’s for later. What do you want right now, Yuuji?”

“You,” Yuuji says incredulously, a thousand meanings packed into that one word.

Gojou’s eyes narrow, a different kind of heat than the look he shot Yuuji before. “Don’t cop out on me now. What were you going to do, Yuuji?”

“Fucking—” Yuuji lifts his head just to slam it down on the mattress; it’s not satisfying at all. “I want to fucking touch you! What else!”

“Cute,” Gojou says, his smile growing wider and more unhinged at Yuuji’s growl. “Where, Yuuji? How? I’ve only been gone for nineteen days, but you already forgot the game. I trained you better than this.”

#calamitouskings #fic: prophetic self-destruction #ask game #goyuu

[pedrito-friskito]

HELLO MY DARLINGS!

it’s been a hot minute since I did a celebration/sleepover/whatever you wanna call it, and it’s almost my BIRTHDAY so I thought I’d do a little something just to spark some joy (and some thots 👀) and just generally drool over my favourite characters (and maybe explore some new ones!!)

COMPLETED FEVER DREAMS

THE RULES:

starting NOW until Friday August 19th @ 8PM EST you can submit (anon or not, but minors GTFO this ain’t for u) a character and a prompt (one of your own OR check my prompt lists tag for some inspo)

can be smutty or fluffy or both, if you want to submit more than one prompt at once then BY ALL MEANS, but please limit it to two per submission

fics/blurbs/headcanons will be posted 8PM ONWARDS (until I’m done lmfao it’s GO TIME)

I have TEN SLOTS for pedro characters, TEN SLOTS for marvel characters, SIX SLOTS for stranger things characters (maybe more depending on what submissions I receive!) and FIVE SLOTS for other characters

this post will be updated with how many slots are remaining as I receive requests (updated as fast as possible but I am only human so bear with me) BUT if there are any left over that I vibe with I’ll keep them and post after Friday!

SLOTS:

pedro - 0/10

marvel - 0/10

stranger things - 1/6

freebies - 2/5

CHARACTERS:

as a quick refresher, I write for….

pedro characters - mainly din djarin, frankie morales, marcus pike, javier peña, dieter bravo, but if there’s one not on my masterlist you want, shoot!

marvel characters - bucky barnes, steve rogers, matt murdock, frank castle (also willing to chat peter parker!!)

strangers things - mainly eddie but will also indulge some steve harrington and jim hopper

other characters I’m open to: lloyd and six from the gray man, a good chunk of chris evans characters, the witcher, oscar isaac characters (mainly santi/poe but I’ve got an open mind!), benny and will from triple frontier, rooster from top gun

A LIL NOTE FROM YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBOURHOOD FRISKITO:

these will be MUCH shorter than the fics I wrote for my 300 follower celebration (like 1000 words max if I can handle it). it’s a challenge for myself!! I’m a sucker for detail but I want to explore my writing and try some short and sweeter things!!

tagging some of mutual because I do this all for you and I love you all to PIECES 💕

@saintmurd0ck @prolix-yuy @pedropascalsx @mindidjarin @itwasthereaminuteago @iamskyereads @splendiferous-bitch @peterman-spideyparker @mandoblowmybackout @e-dubbc11 @allfoolsinluv @mattmurdocksscars @jazzelsaur @ezrasbirdie @steadyasthe-flowers @littlemisspascal @phoebe-danvers @mandosmistress @stxrrylunatic

there are more of you I know and truly, I never thought I’d come back to tumblr like this (I know I say this all the time kay c’MON) but HONESTLY I feel like the luckiest gal in the world to have connected with so many of you and to be able to share my writing (and fan-girling and general dirty mind LOL) and make genuine friends on this app.

OK I’M GONNA GO CRY NOW BYEEEEEEE 💗

#friday night fever #kay talks to people #my fics #pedro pascal #marvel #stranger things #din djarin #frankie morales #marcus pike #javier peña #dieter bravo #matt murdock #frank castle #bucky barnes #steve rogers #eddie munson #steve harrington #jim hopper

[keeshya6]

Last Chance

Chapter 3 - The Last Time They'd Bother Anyone

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Rating: M (Eventually will be E. 18+ only, minors dni!)

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: After a glimpse of things outside of Jackson, we continue Reader's conversation with Tommy, sharing a bit more, learning a bit more, and sparking more memories.

Content Warnings and general info: Canon typical violence, use of guns, brief non-con manhandling and intimidation (not from any known characters)

This chapter got even longer! Lol. I'm going to try to keep most chapters of this fic under 5k though, just as a challenge to myself.

Thank you so much for reading and liking! Any comments and reblogs are greatly loved and appreciated!

Also available on Ao3

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Chapter 3 - The Last Time They'd Bother Anyone

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The rifle shot cracks and rings out across the river valley, echoing in the quiet spring air. Birds take to the sky from the trees with cries of protest, flying every which way.

On the hill across the river, the last of the raiding party flies forward, propelled by his own momentum from running, and by the 7.62 round that tears into his back. He lands in a sprawl amongst the forest underbrush.

Joel watches the prone form for a full three minutes through the scope of his rifle, his cheek pressed against the smooth wood stock.

No movement. No sign of life.

"Fuck yeah, man!" Ellie hisses from behind him and Joel doesn't need to look back to know the expression of grim satisfaction that is on the teenager's face.

His own expression remains impassive.

Killing the last raider, from the group their patrol had been tracking, did hold a sort of satisfaction for him, but only in the same way that any job-well-done does. There's no joy in it.

Something needs done, Joel Miller does it. Simple as that.

Occasionally, he wonders if Ellie finds joy in these tasks, as her words might suggest, but he doubts it's actual enjoyment. Just satisfaction, like him, in seeing a job done that needs doing. A little overly enthusiastic satisfaction though, maybe.

The thought is a little concerning.

Jaded as he is, he doesn't want her to end up like him.

That's why he never lets the 16-year-old girl pull the trigger on another human, if he can help it. Even dangerous ones. Her hunting has been limited to animals and the occasional infected they come across.

Sure, he knows she's had to kill another human in self-defense. That was a while ago now though, and he just wants to avoid her having to again for as long as he can.

Which means he really shouldn't be letting her come along on these patrols, he knows. He also knows the trouble she's likely to get herself into in town if he leaves her behind.

A bored Ellie is rarely a good thing.

Besides, before too long she'll be an adult, able to join on patrols without his say if she wants. He figures the best he can do is try to show her how to survive out here in the meantime.

Satisfied that the last would-be raider is down for good, Joel pushes off of the fallen tree he was using as a rifle stand. He gives a soft grunt with the effort, wincing at the twinge in his knees. Then, brushing debris from his worn jeans, he turns to look at Ellie.

"Let's head back to the meet up," he says as he slings the rifle over his shoulder.

Ellie gives him a firm nod and a tight smile. "Okay," she replies. She glances past his shoulder, across the river to where the body lay, half hidden amongst the brush. "Should we see if he's got anything good on him?"

Joel shakes his head, not even bothering to look back. "No. We're not crossing that water. It's still freezin' cold."

Her expression shifts into a soft scowl as she tilts her head to look at the body again. She brushes back a few loose, wavy brown strands that fell out of her ponytail at some point. "Didn't seem to affect him," she comments.

Shrugging, Joel moves to walk past her and back towards where their horses are secured a short ways away. "He was desperate, runnin' on adrenaline. If he had gotten away, there's a good chance he'd have hypothermia or somethin' once the sun set."

Ellie falls into step with him, their boots crunching over leaves and twigs as they make their way through the trees. "Then why bother shooting him? Why waste the ammo?"

There's only a brief pause before Joel shrugs. "Because I could be wrong."

She considers that for a moment before nodding.

It only takes them about an hour to reach the rest of the patrol group, gathered back up at a cabin that is often used as a safe house for patrols, about a two-day ride west of Jackson. The group of eight had split up into pairs, going in different directions to track down the last of the raiding party that had escaped their ambush a couple miles to the south.

Ellie is quick to apprize the others of the success of their search and reassures them that the raider wasn’t going to be informing anyone else of Jackson’s existence, or bothering anyone ever again, for that matter.

Evan, an older man and one of Jackson's founders, gives a single, respectful nod to Joel as Ellie fills in the details. “Alright, folks,” he interrupts when the teenager takes a breath in her rapid rendition, “it sounds like we’ve done what we set out to do. It wasn’t pretty work, but it needed doin'. Let's hunker down here for the night and then head back to Jackson at dawn.”

They all nod or murmur in agreement and head into the large cabin, unrolling sleeping bags and discussing arrangements for keeping watch through the night.

—

After you both finish your drinks and chat a little longer, Tommy offers to walk you back to the small house that you were assigned when you arrived in Jackson.

Well, not immediately when you arrived. It had taken a day for you to be approved for a house, and to be released from the office kept by Jackson’s lone doctor.

At hearing that, as you both step out of the bar, Tommy stops short and frowns as he looks at you.

Shrugging into your jacket, to ward off the cool air of the evening, you pause to look back at him. “What?”

“Why were you at the doctor’s, Eeps?”

You blink a few times, looking down as you finish pulling on your jacket. “Well… um…”

Tommy steps a little closer, so he can duck his head down to catch your gaze with his own, as he stuffs his hands into his coat pockets. “Come on, Eeps…”

Your fingers fumble for a moment as you zip up and then you nibble at the edge of a nail. “Well, I nearly had frostbite from exposure… from that cold snap early last week,” you say. Then you heave a sigh, your mouth twisting to one side with your discomfort as you turn to start walking. “And… honestly, I’d taken a bit of a beating.”

Tommy's back straightens and he takes two long strides to your side, catching you by the arm and making you jump. He immediately releases you, hand up with his palm out. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says softly, before scowling, “but what do you mean by ‘bit of a beating’.”

You swallow roughly and stick your hands into your pockets. Your mouth opens and closes a few times with false starts, before you puff out a sigh and let the words tumble out. “I mean that, a few weeks ago, I ran into some bad folk, Tommy," you say, while giving a shrug as if it's no big deal. "They didn’t take too kindly to my attempts at getting away, and they made sure I knew it each time. It took three or four tries before my escape stuck… and that's only because of that patrol from Jackson that found me” you finish with another sigh, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice.

This isn't exactly your favorite topic to discuss, but you remember well enough not to argue with a Miller when one of them gets that concerned and determined look in his eyes.

He hesitates for a moment, his dark brows pulling together. “You’re the one that warned one of our council members about the raiding party nearby?” he asks gently.

After a moment you nod, turning to start walking again. “Yeah… 'suppose I was."

Tommy’s scowl deepens as he rakes his fingers through his long hair and then stuffs his hands back into his pockets, moving to walk beside you. “Well, fuck…”

You shrug and try to put on a reassuring smile as you glance over at him. “I’m fine now, Tommy. That doctor of yours took good care of me. Almost back to 100% here. Just a few bruises left.”

When he shifts his eyes back to you, the concern is still there, even though he nods. “Oh… yeah. Dr. Drevell knows his stuff. I ain't surprised.” His eyes move from you then to look down the road ahead, towards the town’s large wooden gates, his brows still pinched together.

Your head tilts to the side slightly, an eyebrow arching. “Then what’s that look for?”

He takes a deep breath and then exhales slowly, giving a rueful shrug. “Just realized that Joel’s out there, huntin’ the guys that were hunting you.”

Your eyes widen at that and your eyebrows reach up towards your hairline. “What?”

Tommy nods, kicking a rock down the road idly as you walk. “Yeah… that’s what we do when we hear about any pocket of raiders nearby. We go after them. Can’t have them finding out about Jackson and spreading the word. Seclusion helps keep us all safe,” he says, ending the statement with a shrug and looking up at the gate again.

You nod in understanding and then take a deep breath. That all makes sense. It’s an unfortunate, dark necessity. However, the look on his face has your anxiety amping up. “Okay. But, are you…” you start and then pause, swallowing against a lump in your throat. “Are you worried about Joel?”

He looks over at you and, after a moment, huffs a faint laugh. “No, Eeps. I’m more worried about the raiders.” At your confused expression, he lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck, trying to find the right words. “You see, sometimes we offer a place here to a raider, but only if they seem like someone who isn’t so bad and just happened to fall in with the wrong people, you know?”

Your brows draw together into a scowl but you nod slightly. “Okay…”

“In this case,” he continues as his hand returns to his pocket, “I’m kind of hoping they are all assholes and that the patrol leader decides they just need to be taken out.”

You wait for him to continue, confusion still showing on your face as you both turn down a side road towards your house.

He glances at you and shrugs. “Mostly it's because of what they did to you,” he admits. “But also… if they bring even one raider back, and Joel finds out what happened to you? Well, I doubt there's anything that could stop him from tearing that person’s head off. Possibly literally.”

You stare at him for a few quiet seconds, blinking, and then look down at the road ahead of you. Your lips purse together as you take a slow breath, trying to work out a response.

After a minute of quiet, Tommy sighs and gives you a sad look, seeming to feel the need to fill the quiet again. “Yeah. Joel’s different, Eeps. Sometimes, he's… dangerous and, well, he scares some folk around here, honestly,” he says softly, hesitantly. Then his shoulders lift into another shrug. “But I guess it’s best for you to be aware of that now so it won't surprise you.”

Nibbling at your lip, you glance back towards Main Street and the gate.

When you look back at Tommy a moment later, there's a faintly sardonic smile tugging at your mouth. "What part of that was supposed to surprise me?"

Tommy stops walking in the middle of the street, his head at a sharp tilt and a perplexed scowl on his face. "What?"

You stop too, turning to face him and pressing your lips together for a moment as you consider your response. "He was always fiercely protective, Tommy, almost to a fault… especially of people close to him." A humorless smirk returns to your lips. "Why should it surprise me to learn that that quality has been…" –you pause to search for the right word– "amplified by the world falling apart?"

Tommy is still giving you a strange look, like this was the last response he could have expected.

You can't help chuckling a little as you turn to start walking once more and, after a second, Tommy does the same. "I think you're forgetting about the time Joel broke a guy's nose for me…"

Tommy's boots scuff along the ground as he stumbles for a step, and then catches himself with a faint laugh of his own. "Damn… I had forgotten about that. What was it? The guy got handsy, right?"

You nod, making a face of disgust and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "Basically. Just think how it would have gone if he had actually hurt me."

Tommy gives a thin huff. "Yeah, he'd have been lucky to only have a broken nose." His cheeks puff out a bit as he blows out a slow breath. "But yeah… I guess you're right about Joel. Hadn't really thought about it like that."

You shrug, smiling faintly as you nod and turn down the path leading up to your door.

"I'm sure he is different, Tommy," you concede, as you both stop at the bottom of your steps and you face him. "But, really, who isn't?" You take a deep breath and exhale it in a long sigh before shrugging. "That's a risk I'll just have to take."

—

You could not believe that you were already going on your fourth date with Joel, and he still had not given you more than a sweet peck on the cheek.

That first date had gone well. Very well, actually. He really did want to make up for his previous blunder.

You were expecting something like dinner at a fancy restaurant, in an attempt to impress you.

Instead, he managed to surprise you.

First, when he picked you up, he had strongly suggested you change out of heels and into tennis shoes. Confused, but curious, you had done so, though you opted to stick with the flowy sundress. It was nearly June and the weather was perfect for it.

Then, he drove you downtown to the Austin Capitol Complex.

Realizing where you were, you had gotten excited, though you tried not to let it show too much. The area was said to have some of the most impressive, iconic, and historic architecture in Texas. You had been meaning to visit it ever since moving to Austin and just hadn't found the time yet.

Parking outside the closed Capitol Building, Joel had trotted around his truck to open your door and you couldn't help a soft giggle. Then, as he locked up the vehicle, he explained that the plan was pretty simple.

For starters: wander through the complex to show you a few of those historic buildings. None were open this late, but the exteriors were impressive all on their own.

You could hardly contain your eagerness.

At some point: eat the 'simple on-the-go dinner' of sandwiches that his 12-year-old had insisted on making for you both.

Okay, that was adorable.

To finish: grab a drink or two at a cozy little bar he knew of nearby, if you wanted to.

The more he explained, the more you couldn't help smiling.

This definitely wasn't the kind of date most guys would plan as a response to your challenge of "make it good."

Leave it to a contractor to know how to appeal to an architect.

You didn't end up making it to the bar that night, instead spending the entire time in the Capitol Complex. You were so enthralled as he led you through the area and you walked slowly around the old buildings. You discussed everything about the structures that you could think of: when they were built, how they were built, the design styles, what uses they'd had, design elements, flaws, historical events that had occurred at each one. Joel impressed you with the many questions he knew the answers to, and you were smiling so much throughout the night that your cheeks began to ache. (Several months later you would learn that he had actually studied from one of Sarah's history books for this date, cramming like it was the week before finals.)

It was nearly midnight before you made it back to his truck. Sitting on the tailgate, you both ate the sandwiches you had forgotten about until that moment, when you were both suddenly famished.

Then Joel drove you home, walked you to your door, and kissed your cheek.

Without a doubt, the best first date you'd ever had.

The second and third dates were more typical. You both were so busy that you decided to just steal a couple hours away for each one.

So, two weeks after the Capitol Complex, he took you out for a lunch date at a small Italian bistro. It was picturesque and the little, ancient, Italian man that ran it was an adorable and shameless flirt. You decided you loved it, and Joel joked about his new competition for your attention as he kissed your cheek and you said your goodbyes.

Another week passed before you met up to go see a movie.

Ever the gentleman, Joel offered to let you pick the film. You could see him squirm a little out of the corner of your eye when you paused at the poster for "Moulin Rouge!", but he clenched his jaw and kept quiet. After lingering at the poster for a few torturous moments, you took pity on him and asked the cashier for two tickets to "Gladiator".

When the tension drained out of Joel's shoulders, you couldn't help a laugh at his expense. He gave you a look that let you know just how much of a brat he thought you were, but there was still a smirk on his lips as he paid.

You just flashed him a bright, innocent smile in return.

For the first quarter of the movie you were a bit distracted as you leaned close to him and his arm ended up around you. He smelt like fresh cut grass and lumber, with a hint of whiskey and a dash of nicotine smoke. It was a blend you could definitely get used to. Then, you finally got lost in the story of the movie.

Afterwards, as the credits began to roll and you hastily tried to dry the tears from your eyes, Joel tilted his shoulder beside you and offered up his t-shirt sleeve to help. You only hesitated a moment before giving a rueful laugh and accepting. When you looked up at him, you were pretty sure there were even unshed tears shining in his dark eyes.

Then, once again, he had said goodbye with a peck to your cheek before you climbed into your car.

So, finding yourself on a fourth date, at a small club with Joel, Tommy, and Tommy's date, Carmen, you couldn't help wondering if you were just bad at flirting and Joel wasn't getting the hint that you really wanted more than a kiss on the cheek.

There were moments, just a heartbeat or two, when Joel would look at you with that easy smile you were quickly coming to adore, and you'd almost swear he was going to kiss you. The air felt like it was filled with electricity and warmth spread just beneath your skin like a wildfire.

But then conversation at the table would resume and the moment would pass.

You tried to not hold it against anyone at the table, especially Joel.

Maybe the timing just wasn't right.

Your group spent the evening back and forth between the dance floor and a tall table with your drinks. It turned out that Joel was a decent dancer, as was his brother, and you even danced with Carmen a couple of times.

It was almost midnight when the guys excused themselves to step outside for a smoke. You and Carmen both made playful faces of disgust at them and they just chuckled before disappearing into the crowd towards the exit. With a shared laugh, you and Carmen ordered another round of drinks for the table while you waited.

“Hey there, sweet stuff.”

You jumped with a squeak at the unfamiliar voice coming up at your side, and both you and Carmen looked over at the man with startled expressions.

He was tall and lanky, wearing dark jeans and a red silky-looking button up shirt with a black stetson hat. The whole look reminded you of Burt Reynolds in that old Smokey and the Bandit movie, except this guy didn’t have a mustache or the devastating good looks.

Stetson was giving you a swarmy smile and your stomach immediately turned a bit. You tried to put on a polite, but not overly friendly smile in return.

“I think you're confused. I'm not your sweet stuff,” you said and then turned to sip at your drink.

You could see his head tilt at that, exaggerated by the hat, out of the corner of your eye. “Now, there’s no call to be rude like that, honey. Just bein’ friendly.” He sidled up a little closer on the opposite side of you from Carmen, leaning an elbow on your table. “‘Sides, what’s a pretty thang like you doin’ here with that old guy anyway?”

You barely glanced at him with a frown. Then you pointedly turned away to face Carmen and tried to resume your previous conversation with her.

Maybe if you ignored Stetson, he’d go away.

And what did he mean by ‘old guy’ anyway? Joel wasn't that much older than you, and this guy wasn’t exactly 21 anymore either.

Before you could try to continue your conversation, Carmen’s eyes widened as she looked past you. You tensed and immediately looked back at the guy over your shoulder, to find him scowling at you, his face only a few inches away. It made you jump a little, spinning to face him and taking a step back.

“Don’t ya know it’s rude to ignore someone talkin’ to ya, gal?”

Fighting a panic rising in your chest, you took a deep breath, and immediately regretted it with the way his eyes darted down your cleavage. You stepped back again, closer to Carmen. “I’m not here with you, Sir. Please, leave me alone.”

His scowl deepened in response and the panic leapt up into your throat as you swallowed hard. Then, you tensed your jaw and lifted your chin a little. "You know what, Discount Burt? You can stay. In fact, have the table." You grabbed your small purse off the table and glanced at Carmen, reaching back for her hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Stetson's face was shifting to a shade of red and he started to respond, but you couldn't hear him over the crowd and music as you went bee-lining for the exit with Carmen.

Once outside, you took a deep breath of the cool spring air, eyes darting around for Joel and Tommy.

When the door of the club opened up behind you two, almost as soon as it closed, everything went to hell for a minute.

Later, you would remember things, like the sharp ache of Stetson's hand clamping down on your arm, yanking you backwards until you hit the wall next to the door with a yelp. Then there was the stab of fear as he boxed you in with a hand against the wall on either side of your shoulders, ignoring Carmen as she yelled at his back. And the scent of copenhagen chew would make you feel ill for a long while afterwards, from its scent assailing you as Stetson leaned in to snarl something into your face, even though you couldn't understand a word of it past the pounding of your heart in your ears. Stetson moved even closer then, until you couldn't see anything but his scowl and you could feel the pressure and heat of his body.

Later, those details would come back to you. In the moment though, everything happened in a blur.

Then, his body and his grimacing face disappeared in an instant.

It took a moment to orient yourself, gasping in a breath of fresh air.

The rapid sound of thuds, with the crunch of cartilage accompanying the third one, is what tugged you out of your daze. Your eyes snapped over to find Stetson –now minus the stetson– with his own back pressed up against the wall a few feet away. One of Joel's fists was tangled up in the collar of the other man's shirt, holding him up against the bricks with his forearm shoved against a collar bone. Joel's other fist was cocked back and flying, connecting again.

There was a look of fury on Joel's face that stole your breath away, with his jaw visibly clenched tight and the depth of his scowl deepening the lines between his brows. You couldn't help watching his face, a little wide eyed and lips barely parted as your breath stuttered.

After the fourth or fifth punch, Tommy pulled back on Joel's shoulder and hissed something at his brother that you couldn't hear. Joel's next swing faltered and he smacked his palm against the wall next to Sans-Stetson's head instead. A moment dragged out as Joel stared at the man, who whimpered and lifted a hand up to his gushing nose.

Then Joel's dark eyes swept over to you, and the anger melted off his features in an instant. It was quickly replaced by uncertainty as he glanced from you to Sans-Stetson and then back.

You could practically read his mind in that moment, his expression betraying his worry: did he just seriously fuck up and scare you?

Much to your own surprise, you realized that, no, he did not. Surprised? Yes. Scared? No.

You even let a tiny smile tug at your mouth, hoping it looks reassuring as you meet his eyes.

Tommy pried Joel's hand out of your assailant's shirt, saying something about I've got 'im, Joel, and Go take care of your girl.

Your stomach did a happy little flip at hearing that second one.

Tommy grabbed Sans-Stetson's stetson and started dragging him around everyone and back inside. You could hear him start saying something to one of the bouncers inside, before the door clicked closed again.

Meanwhile, Joel finally started moving towards you. His steps were hesitant, as if you were a rabbit ready to dash away.

So, when he was finally within an arm's length of you, you reached out to grasp the front of his shirt. His brows shot upward as you pulled. Of course, you just ended up pulling yourself closer, instead of the other way around.

Still, it had the desired effect and his arm was around you right away, like it was instinct, and your hands ended up between you, on his chest. Then, his other hand lifted to cup your cheek as he searched your eyes.

"Did he hurt you, Darlin'?"

Your tongue swept out to wet your lips before you softly bit down on the lower one, your eyes darting to his mouth for an instant before snapping back up to his eyes.

"No," you murmured, shaking your head. "You… you didn't give him time."

Concern crossed his features for a moment again and he was about to respond, until you lifted a hand to press your fingertips to his mouth to stop him.

Swallowing hard, your voice came out soft, as your eyes darted over his face. "No one's ever stood up for me like that before, Joel," you said, your fingers slipping away from his lips. "Thank you..."

You could see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly too, and a faint smile pulled up one side of his mouth. "You're welcome…"

Here it was again: another of those moments that left the air feeling charged around you. Your breath caught in your chest before you realized it and sparks danced across your skin.

And the way Joel's eyes darkened, flitting across your face and lingering on your mouth for a moment before meeting your eyes again, you knew he was feeling it too.

Oh, fuck it!

You surged up onto your toes and captured his lips with yours.

#fanfic #reader insert #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

[mysticbutmakeitmessy]

If You Can’t Be Unafraid, Be Afraid and Happy.

~ short but sweet little fic about Saeran having trouble sleeping, but his friends are there in the chatroom to make him smile again ~ based on some of my favourite posts from this account hehehe ~ 1k 

✧⋆＊✴✰✦＊⋆✢✧⋆＊✴✰✦＊⋆✢✧⋆＊✴✰✦＊⋆✢✧⋆＊✴✰✦＊⋆✢✧⋆＊✴✰✦＊

The paralysing fear of waking up from a nightmare wasn’t anything new. Saeran had spent his entire life getting used to the sensation of his heart stopping completely as his mind exploded back into consciousness. The sweat pouring down his ice cold skin was almost a comfort at this point, a sign that it was over, that he was now awake. Safe. In recent months, his therapist had recommended he pretend the sweat was a waterfall, and that he was merely a rock sitting behind the cascade - thoughtless and fearless.

But that wasn’t true. Saeran was full of fear. Even now. His life had changed completely for the better, he awoke each morning to his own smile outshining the sun beaming through his very own window in an apartment he could call his own, where all choices made were his alone. He would pick up his phone to countless messages from his friends, and his brother, asking him how he is, and inviting him to hang out with them. His life was, for the very first time in 21 years, entirely his own, and he was living it in a way that made him happy! But happiness didn’t obliterate fear.

And now, in a life where there was no longer any real danger for him to be afraid of, all of the fear was saved up to be spent in the early hours of the morning. When he should be letting himself fall asleep, all tucked up and warm in his bed that was as soft as a cloud, excited to live again tomorrow, that’s when he was afraid.

Afraid of the horrors that would torment him the second his eyes were closed, and his consciousness was snatched from his desperate grasp. The twists and turns of the demonic presences that made their home in the voids where his dreams should be, the poison thorns that wrapped themselves around every vein in his body until he was choking, choking, choking

drowning

falling 

endlessly into a cavern of nothing 

nothing

nothing

nothing

except for her.

No. No, not tonight. He wouldn’t let his nightmares win tonight.

He couldn’t if he wanted to. The fear had subjected him to tossing and turning for the past two hours. He’d done well to not let it build into a panic attack, and he was proud of himself for that! And he knew his friends would be proud of him, too! And that feeling, that truth, was enough to bring the hint of a smile to the corners of his mouth.

And although that smile wasn’t enough to quell his pounding heart into a soothing lullaby, he had a feeling he knew what would.

Saeran reached for the phone resting under his pillow, and instinctively opened the messenger app.

Saeran: Guys

Saeran: Guys

Saeran: Guys please I know it’s late but this is really important

ZEN: What’s up buddy?

MC: Saeran sweetie :( Are you doing okay? Do you want me to call?

Yoosung★: i’m going to be up playing LOLOL for a few hours if you want to join!! :D

A tear formed in the corner of Saeran’s left eye. Not in a sad way, but in a disbelief and overwhelming joy at the fact his friends are this kind and understanding and patient. Something he never believed he would get to experience, something he never believed he deserved to experience. Their genuine care and concern almost made him feel a little guilty for what he was about to do.

Almost.

Saeran: I’m okay don’t worry!

Saeran: I just

Saeran: I have to tell you something

MC: You can always tell us anything, buttercup! We’re always here to listen :]

ZEN: yeah! go ahead! ZEN THE KNIGHT is here to banish any troubles

Saeran: So

Saeran: I learnt something.. 

Saeran: if you pour water into a hole of dirt and put grass in it and mix it around it makes something.

Saeran: it’s called pottion.

The chat was silent for a few moments, and the bubbles of laughter were erupting from his throat and popping in the air around him, each one sparking the same joy as a gentle kiss on his forehead. He knew objectively the interaction wasn’t particularly funny, but to his exhausted, fearful mind, it was the most magical lifeline.

MC: Saeran.. … .

MC: I’m not disagreeing but

MC: You know potion is spelled with only one t, right

Saeran: if i ever misspell something no i didn’t that’s a secret letter i put there just for you and you found it.

Saeran: my gift.

 - Saeyoung has entered the chatroom. - 

Saeyoung: I just got kicked out of a tarot reading.

Saeyoung: oh hi ho brother of mine 

Saeyoung: potion. .. … … . .. . .are you sure you should be giving away this secret knowledge …. .. . are you sure it’s safe .. .. .. . .what if they .. .. they make their own potions .. ..

ZEN: What kind of potions would we make? MC: ones that include water dirt and grass obviously were you even listening

Yoosung★: You know I’m actually a potion master on LOLOL :D I made a potion that gave 460XP yesterday :DD

Saeran: Nevermind the potions, how the hell did you get kicked out of a tarot reading?

Saeyoung: *le dramatic sigh* Saeyoung: I put a draw 4 down on the 2 of cups

MC: Tell me you’re joking. Tell me you’re joking right now. 

Saeyoung: *le dramatic sigh x2*

MC: I am going to smack you with a broom you fool how could you disrespect the cards like this MC: I’m never giving you a tarot reading ever again the cards are going to hate you now

MC: hang on

MC: WHO THE HELL DID YOU GO TO FOR A TAROT READING??? I AM RIGHT HERE??? DO ME AND MY CARDS MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?????

Saeyoung: …….

Saeyoung: .. . . … .. . .. 

Saeyoung: *le dramatic sigh x3*

ZEN: maybe if you’d made a potion like Saeran suggested this wouldn’t have happened

Saeran: hey don’t bring me into this

Saeran: i-*morphs into cryptid and scuttles away into the night* - Saeran has left the chatroom. -

And with his throat full of laughter, his heart full of love, his smile full of giddiness, and his thoughts full of a friendship powerful enough to calm his every worry, Saeran puts down his phone, and comfortably allows sleep to take over.

Saeran once read, “If you can’t be unafraid, be afraid and happy,” in a book. And if fear demands to still be present in his life, then he will demand that happiness is the most prominent feeling inside himself every day for the rest of time.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger fic #mystic messenger crack #saeran #ray mystic messenger #707 #saeyoung choi #zen mystic messenger #yoosung kim

[ssahotstuff]

Aaron Hotchner x Camgirl PART 12

part 11 is here

spotify playlist

mood board/visuals for the fic

word count: 7.7k because i was big time slacking.

warnings include formalized s*x work, so minors DNI!!! smut, (obviously) drinking, some serious messy relationship issues, a lot of crying in this chapter in the next but i had so much fun writing the next couple parts so i promise it's worth it lmao

Aaron

I'd never seen anyone move so quickly. I'd barely had time to scramble off the bed and search for my clothes and she was already dressed and hugging the toilet in my bathroom. I had no idea what was happening, but it was so sudden that I had no clue how to react.

"Can I come in or should I stay out here?"

"Could you maybe get me a glass of water?" I barely heard her, her voice was strained, but I had no clue what I'd done, so I went to the kitchen and did as she asked, lingering on the other side of the house. When I heard her open the door and wander down the hall, I was met with the happiest face I had ever seen. She definitely didn't look like she'd just lost all of her dinner, that's for certain.

"You're... alright?"

"I'm great! I need to go to my place and brush my teeth, and the moon will be out soon," she reminded, so I grabbed the blanket from the back of my couch and followed her over to her apartment, waiting for her on the balcony while she went to the bathroom. I was praying she offered an explanation to what had just happened, and I got my wish as soon as she'd sat down.

"Have you ever had an epiphany?" I watched her curiously as she sat in front of me and leaned back, letting me wrap us in the blanket. We were leaned against the wall, watching the sky for the moon's grand appearance. Most nights it was already in the sky and she just waited for the dark and the stars. However, tonight the sky was putting on a spectacular show.

The pinks, purples and blues of the skyline paired well with her tye-dye shorts, and the moon was a shadow in the sky, but it was still a magnificent sight. She made me realize how little I actually stopped to witness the little wonders of the world. She slowed me down, made me appreciate the small things.

"Once or twice. Is that what happened?" I pulled her closer, allowing her to rest in my lap most of the way. She preferred to lay down and look at the sky, but due to how small the balcony was, it was difficult. So she would rest her head on my lap and take turns looking between me and the stars.

"I've always taken relationships with a grain of salt because most of them end horribly at some point and I know that. I've never been afraid of the unknown. I welcome it, and you know that. But I'm afraid of the day I step outside and avoid looking at your door, or avoid going in the hall because I may run into you. I don't want that to happen."

She was struggling to keep her voice steady. I ran a comforting hand through her hair and stayed quiet so she knew I was listening to her and hearing what she said.

"I really like you. You make me want to write a romantic comedy about my life where the only major dilemma is what I'm going to wear to dinner," she covered her face, and even in the dark I saw her cheeks heat up as she giggled.

It was refreshing to hear her be so honest. She was always honest and it took me a while to learn that, but she said exactly what she felt. It was intimidating at first, but the more time I spent with her I realized that she may not have ever met a genuine person in her life that wasn't after more than her body. A pang of guilt washed over me when I remembered that's how my infatuation started, and quickly grew from a spark to a raging inferno over a few short months. Now that she was here and admitting to wanting to keep me around, my heart was pounding in my chest. I hadn't felt anything for anyone that wasn't Haley in my life, and I was feeling everything with her simultaneously.

I wanted to be afraid too, but the joy outweighed the fear immensely. How could I be terrified of something so wonderful? I had no idea how much time I'd have with her, but my plan was to make each second as special as possible.

"I'm so glad you're my main character," she said softly, reaching up to cup my face with her hand. Beneath a moonless sky, she had stolen what was left of my guarded heart, and she didn't even know.

"If you're Andy, then I'm Blane."

She let out a howl of laughter at my reference and sat up abruptly, pulling me into a minty fresh kiss.

"I always thought Duckie deserved Andy, they were best friends. We're best friends, right?"

As if my heart could've swelled any more. She had no idea how quickly she'd became the best friend I'd ever had other than Haley. Even in the end we were best friends, but it was different, as it is with all relationships. Comparing them wasn't fair to either of them, because it felt drastically similar and totally opposite at the same time.

"A million percent best friends. I always want to be like this with you," I said honestly, because there was nothing I wanted more than to keep her around as long as I could.

"I'm sorry I got sick. I just came to the conclusion that I'm crazy for you," she sang the last half, imitating Madonna as best she could. It was a song she played often for me, and sang as loud as she could.

"Crazy doesn't even begin to cover it. I'm obsessed with you."

"Obsessed, huh?" She stood up, helping me to my feet. We always watched the moon from her place, and she'd lock up and follow me back to mine.

"That's what I said. Let's go cuddle and watch a movie in bed," she held my hand as I guided us to my place, grabbing her water and letting her get cozy before I shed my pants and climbed in after her. I'd never been one to sleep with the television on, but she'd watch reruns of Saved By The Bell and Full House to fall asleep to, and I really didn't mind.

"Hold me," she whispered, tossing her leg over mine, wrapping her arm around my waist. She had her own pillow in my bed, but we both ended up using mine the majority of the night.

"Goodnight, sweetheart." She was already asleep, her mouth parted slightly. She always looked so sweet when she slept, like every care in the world went away with the sunset, and tomorrow, we'd have another shot at whatever we didn't get to do today. Before I could sleep, I crept to her place, finding the notebook she kept on the counter that she wrote all of her plans down in. It was different from her diary; she'd bought it when she started mapping out her schedule for school.

Her diary seemed invasive to leave a note in, even though she'd let me skim the pages, I felt like I was violating her privacy even if my intentions were good. So, I flipped the notebook open, knowing I'd be at work long before she'd be back to see it. I wanted her to have it for when she started her day, even though she'd stay with me through the morning and until I left.

To the sweetest girl I know, One of your favorite movies talks about how you don't have to understand things, you just have to have faith in destiny. I don't know if I've believed in it until now. If I'm with you, I'm where I'm supposed to be. You're the most fearless woman alive, and I'm so grateful I get to spend my sunrises & my sunsets with you. Thank you for being exactly who you're meant to be.

✨✨✨

Aaron was always making coffee when you woke up, and he always made it exactly how you liked it. You'd smelled it brewing and padded down the hall, finding him in front of the foyer mirror putting on his tie. You tiptoed behind him, snaking your hands around his waist, hugging him from behind.

"I'm gonna miss you today," you mumbled against his shirt before he even had time to tell you good morning. Like most days, the clouds were looming outside and the sudden threat of a storm seemed inevitable. You could hear the weatherman on the tv in the living room, something he did every morning before work. That's how he'd known to give you the umbrella.

"I... I honestly thought about taking a sick day. Technically you did get sick yesterday, and what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't at least work from here so I could keep an eye on you?" He turned to face you, returning your hug and kissing your head. You wanted to tell him to go to work, but if he could manage to get things done and stay home, you wouldn't complain either.

"I don't want to sway you to play hooky, but I am feeling rather sick now that I hear what the weatherman is saying," you tried to tune out the promise of thunderstorms and high winds planning to last the entirety of the day.

"I'll still have to go in and grab some paperwork to bring back here. An hour, maximum," he promised, and so you sat on the couch with your coffee to wait on him to return. You made the short walk to your apartment, grabbing your diary, stopping in your tracks when you spotted a single sheet of paper on the counter.

Aaron had left you a note.

You scanned the page until your eyes filled with tears, knowing he'd done it after you'd fallen asleep the night before. He wouldn't have had time to do it otherwise. It may have seemed like a simple note to anyone else, but it was much more than that.

It was starting to rain, which meant there would be no sunrise. Aaron had made sure you were still able to start the day with something bright, and that meant more than any sunrise so far. Instead of folding it, you slid it between the very first entry you'd ever written about him once you realized who he was and could put a name with his face, so you'd always have a little memento of the shy guy that was your faceless neighbor only 3 weeks prior, only to be a man you shared a bed with on a regular basis.

You'd been questioning whether the butterflies and how your relationship with him felt was because of destiny or if you'd simply moved too quickly with someone you'd just met. But no amount of time with him, or without, would ever change how whole you felt having him in your life. You'd debated seeing how he felt about it, jotting a quick note in your journal to mention it when he was done with work later.

You had a bad habit of writing out questions to ask him and bombarding him all at once, so you tried to keep it simple with one a day, if he was feeling up to being especially chattery, 3 or 4. Some days, you didn't even have to be nosy, he'd just tell you about things you'd been too afraid to ask, like he'd sensed your apprehension.

He'd told you about his ex wife the first night you spent on his couch, and how tragically she'd passed. He'd told you about how he struggled to fill the shoes of fatherhood, but finally felt like he was getting somewhere when he made the decision to work from the office instead of in the field. He had always been open, even the night of the banquet when he told you he was already falling in love with you.

Your heart had nearly stopped beating, but it was only because you hadn't heard his words, but felt them with your body, blanketing you in infatuation. He'd been truly out of sorts that night; hearing why made you understand more clearly. It had been quick after that for him, and he didn't hide it. He was calling in sick all because of a storm; he had it just as bad as you.

When he arrived back home, he was missing his briefcase and his tie, his shoes coming off at the door.

"Change of plans. They felt so bad that I was taking a sick day that I don't have a single thing to do today other than spend time with you." He was already unbuttoning his shirt, shedding it and his pants to climb on the couch with you. The rain was coming down hard, you'd pulled your furniture in off the balcony as well as Aaron's before the storm had started.

"I was going to make breakfast," you told him, standing up to browse through his fridge. He tried to follow you, but you told him to find something to watch so he could spend his sick day the proper way.

You made an omelette for him, opting for cereal for yourself as you joined him in watching Ancient Aliens. He always watched it if it was on, captivated by the theories and by the evidence found hidden away. You loved watching him enjoy television; he never calmed down enough to pay attention to the more mundane things. Even when he was with you, he often sat in bed working on cases, or at the table while you wrote in your diary. You worked together often; it was different for you, because it was casual on your end. The way he held his pen, occasionally tapping it against the wooden table before jotting down notes, was fascinating to watch. He would be so focused on his work that he wouldn't realize his tongue was between his teeth, so deep in concentration that he didn't care.

He was like that now, honed in on the idea of burial sites of the aliens, savoring every bite of his breakfast as you watched him from your peripheral vision. He was thrilled to have a second day off in a week, it was evident by the way he'd came in. Even in New York he made time to work a little everyday. You knew today that wouldn't be the case, even if he spent the rest of the week making up for it.

"I love your cooking," he kissed your head, heading towards the kitchen with his plate and your empty bowl. He was rinsing the dishes off when a loud clap of thunder rattled the apartment, and you made a beeline for where he was standing in the kitchen. He caught you just before you slipped on the linoleum, his first instinct to put himself between you and the window.

"I got you, it's just a little thunder," he assured you, and you gasped when another thunderous boom came shortly after. This time, the power flickered before going out entirely, the buzz of a transformer blowing in the distance causing you to push further into Aaron's chest.

"If you would've went to work, I would be locked in the closet right now," you laughed nervously, and his eyes lit up with an idea. His office was the equivalent to your closet, with no windows, tucked between the bathroom and bedroom. You followed him inside, shining your phone around the room. There was a loveseat in the corner that he sat you on while he searched expertly for a candle and matches, lighting it up and sitting it on his desk near the middle of the room. It barely lit up three feet surrounding the desk, but it was enough to make you a little less nauseous.

"We can stay here until the power comes back. How do you normally distract yourself when it storms?"

You could hear the hail pounding against the roof, Aaron pulling you into his lap and hugging your waist. Storms were never something you enjoyed, but he was making your worries ease slightly. You were still anxious, but he held you close, leaning into your neck, brushing your chin with his nose. The comfort he brought was like a heating blanket; it made you warm and it made you feel at home.

"I sing show-tunes. We're not doing that today," you chuckled, calming down a little when the hail subsided for the most part. Aaron still clung tightly to you, running his hand over your hair.

"Oh, so that's why you sing the Chicago soundtrack so loud. Lots of practice," he kissed your cheek, his hands falling to your hips. He gave you a gentle squeeze, tracing your figure with his fingertips before slipping his hands beneath your shirt. He rubbed small circles on your back, massaging gently until you were hunched over and laying on his shoulder.

"Feels good," you squeaked, letting your eyes close. He applied a small amount of pressure, enough to work at some of the kinks in your back and make you audibly moan at the relief your body felt. You'd paid for massages before, but this was better by far. It was the man of your dreams working double time to make sure you didn't have time to dwell on the storm outside, no matter what.

"You may be more tense than me. It's okay, sweetheart. Try to relax a little," he lifted your shirt over your head and laid it beside him, inhaling sharply when he discovered you weren't wearing a bra. He stayed focused, hands working to ease some of the stress and tension in your shoulders.

"It's the stupid storm," you whined, feeling silly for being so terrified of a little rain and wind, but Aaron understood, and made sure you knew that he'd always keep you safe.

"I know. When the power comes back on, we'll watch Dirty Dancing and we'll order food," he promised, and you shook your head.

"We can cook. It's pouring. I don't want a delivery driver out in this," you told him, earning a chuckle and then a kiss to your head immediately after.

"You're sweet. Very sweet." His voice was so soft with you now in comparison to how he was the first night he invited you over. He still wanted to sound like the bossier, more rugged version of himself then, but over the weeks, that had melted away. He trusted you, enough to be himself to his core and let you witness it.

You kissed his jaw, just below his ear, dragging your lips over his skin. You felt the goosebumps prickle up beneath your touch, his hands coming to a halt at your ass. He contemplated for a split second before grabbing it and squeezing, moaning into your mouth as he kissed you gently. His tongue  slipped past your parted lips and moved delicately against your own as you weaved your hands into his hair, still shocked that he could barely touch you and have you burning up for him. It was stuffy in his powerless apartment, both of you shedding clothes partly because of the summer heat, but mostly so you could be close to him in the most intimate way.

"Have we ever had sex in the dark?" You had to think about it once he'd asked, but you couldn't recall a time that you'd ever been in total darkness together romantically. Now, with his skin against yours and your fingers blindly feeling for one another, you were curious about all the fun you could have with the lights off.

"We haven't. There's a lot of things we haven't done yet that I'd like to try," you told him, letting your voice drop lower than normal as you grazed your nails against the flesh of his arms, loving how he shivered beneath you. His hands met the back of your neck, bringing your mouth to his in the greediest possible way. As he swirled his tongue in your mouth, he lined himself up with you, gliding his cock through your arousal, teasing your slit with his tip. You whimpered, rolling your hips against him to try to get him to quit teasing and fuck you.

"We'll try them all right now if you want," he took your moment of deliberation to slam into you, chuckling lowly when you gripped his shoulders for stability. He let his dick slide out of you entirely before he did it again, the pounding of his thrusts bouncing off the walls of his office.

"Later. Right now, let me ride you," you panted, using your hand to guide him to your entrance so you could sink down on him. He shuddered, his whole body shaking at how quickly you were able to work his dick, using the back of the couch to hold onto as he buried his face in your tits. You felt his tongue latch on to your nipple momentarily, sucking it between his teeth before he bit it lightly. You almost prayed he didn't ever stop his sexy assault on your chest, your movements becoming messier with each flick and nibble of his mouth.

He continued to leave a trail of sloppy kisses until he reached your other breast, repeating his previous actions while he held you still on top of him. You could feel him pulsing inside of you and you were aching to move your hips, even if it was just for a second. He sensed your neediness, his fingers quickly spreading you open while he brushed his thumb across your clit.

"Something about barely being able to see you is so fucking hot," the heat of his mouth had you quivering, tilting his face to meet your mouth. You could faintly make out the outline of his body, but his face was hidden in the dark. It reminded you of how you felt before you knew what he looked like, all of his details blurred by the flickering shadows dancing against the wall.

"Everything about you is hot to me," you admitted, pinning his wrists at his sides. You expected him to fight back, or at least resist a little. He didn't, not even slightly. He went limp, sighing heavily as he sank further into the cushions.

"Use me," he rasped, so you didn't waste a second of time. You were drenched and able to take him with ease, swirling around the tip of his cock, your eyes fluttering closed. His hands were still held firmly under yours, though he'd never resist you bossing him around. You loved being on top of him, being able to control the pace of every stroke of his dick inside of you made you mad for him. You had never had anyone buried so deeply inside of you; it was almost too much for you to handle. You'd had good sex before Aaron, or so you thought.

You'd never been with anyone who fucked like him. His primary goal always was you: your body, your pleasure, and making sure you knew how special you were. Now that you actually believed his words, they were like music to your ears; you wanted to put them in your shower playlist and listen to them every morning.

His voice sent sparks through you, and sometimes you wondered how the people he worked with ever got anything done with him around. You'd catch yourself replaying his words in your head before you responded to him quite often, not because you weren't paying attention. You'd get distracted. He was the object of every fantasy you could imagine, from picnics in the park to darker, more sensual desires. He was the cause of every sinful thought to cross your mind.

He may have looked powerless, especially now when he was pleading with you not to stop fucking him, but he was anything but. Despite the way he let you show one tiny display of dominance, he'd always be the one in charge.

Your orgasm had been building since he told you to use him, but you refused to cum without him. You'd been waiting patiently for a time when you could finish together, considering it didn't happen often.

"I'm close sweetheart, I need you to cum," he pulled his hands from your grasp so he could toy with your clit. His usual delicate touch was replaced by the need to give you what you wanted, an expertly administered amount of pressure on your clit and a gentle hand pressing on your lower stomach. It was a new but welcome sensation and it was driving you crazy. The hand that was pressing on your abdomen flew to your face and brought your forehead to rest against his, both of you slick with sweat as you came together.

There was still a lot of sexual tension, but the room was considerably cooler than before. For a moment, you just sat close to him, breathing him in. His arms were secured around you, head in the crook of your neck. His chest was heaving against yours, the two of you still trying to calm down.

"The power is back on. I hear the tv," his voice was gravelly as he cleared his throat, so you slowly climbed off of him so he could get dressed. He lifted his hips and pulled up his pants before reaching behind him to turn on the lamp. His hair was a disheveled mess on his head, but he looked properly fucked, that's for sure. He scanned your body before meeting your eyes, like he needed to make sure you were still there once he'd turned on the light.

"I could use a nap," he whispered, tugging you upright. He was already dressed, his back turned away from you as he pulled his shirt on. He was acting the opposite of how you felt; you wanted to reach out and tell him that you loved him because something had changed for you in the last 24 hours. But he was already walking out of the room, having blown out the candle, leaving you standing in the dark.

Something was bothering him, but you weren't sure what. He was serious about napping, because he was already in the bed, clutching the pillow you normally slept with. Usually you would have climbed in after him, but you gave him his space, knowing that he'd talk to you when he woke up, if he was ready.

You made your way to the couch to waste time while Aaron slept, mindlessly flipping through the channels while you made a mental list of anything that you could have possibly done to upset him. He'd taken the day off work just to spend with you, and now he was being distant. You hated how cold he could get with no warning, and how he could go hours without talking to you. It hurt your feelings more than anything; you couldn't imagine being so guarded that you hurt people, even if it was unintentional.

Aaron slept the day away, so about an hour before you knew Jack would be arriving, you went back to your apartment. If he wanted to talk, it would have to be later. You figured he just needed to recuperate from being around you so much. You'd been inseparable for days, so you were afraid of wearing out your welcome too quickly. You made dinner and turned on your music, but not loud enough to disturb Aaron before he was ready to wake up. You cleaned a little, trying to distract yourself from every bad thought that crossed your mind.

Usually whatever he was upset about was obvious. He got frustrated a lot, but unless you knew what his version of that looked like, you'd never recognize it. It was subtle: he'd clench his jaw, his knuckles would go white, and he'd go completely silent. He'd put as much space between you and him as he could, and he'd stay away until he was ready. Whether you were ready or not didn't matter; you dealt with it anyway. You weren't going to try to change him, and sometimes him walking away was a better alternative to arguing.

You were grateful that he wouldn't argue with you, but him ignoring you made you so on edge that distracting yourself felt like the only alternative.

✨✨✨

You knew Jack was gone, and had been for an hour. You were on your second glass of wine when you heard him tell his son he'd see him tomorrow and close his door, leaving you to wonder. Part of you wished that you weren't neighbors when he got in moods like this, because it made things awkward. You were afraid to go out on the balcony because if he was out there too, he'd think you were pressuring him to talk to you, and that never went well.

You went outside anyway, dragging your chair back outside now that the rain had passed. You traded your wine glass for the bottle, leaving your phone and your diary on the couch. You'd read every page since the day you met Aaron in the park on your first glass of Chardonnay, and by the time you made it to the second glass, you were reading through your old texts, praying he'd send you a message to come over.

You felt shitty. You felt like you were building someone up that had the ability to make you crumble every time he gave you the cold shoulder. You'd told him how he made you feel, and how you felt for him, and even though he said he felt the same, he wasn't acting like he did.

You could see the tv reflecting against his patio door, and you were glad you'd bought all those beautiful fake plants to sit behind instead of the chair. They were the perfect camouflage so you could cry into your hands, expelling all the negative emotions that had built up since the last time you'd been out here doing the exact same thing. You loved a good cry, and even though you were having a pity party now, you'd feel great afterwards. You always did.

The good feeling never came. The weight never lifted from your shoulders, it felt like a ton of bricks when you saw his lights go out. He was perfectly capable of just leaving you to be alone with your misery. That infuriated you.

It was barely 9 pm on a Thursday night, and you knew every bar in town would be full this close to the weekend during summer. The closest one was a pub about a mile walk uptown, but it was dark, so you ordered an Uber and got ready, securing your hair away from your face with a headband and pulling on the comfiest pair of jeans you owned and leaving on your college girl sweatshirt. You closed the door softly behind you and took the elevator down to the parking garage. You'd only stepped out and spotted Aaron's SUV when you realized he was inside, and he wasn't alone.

It was your turn to walk off and leave him wondering. You only saw the outline of a body, too big for Jack, but unidentifiable otherwise. You didn't want to know, you saw your Uber dead ahead and you were climbing in before he could even register what had happened.

Any other time you would have chatted with the driver, but you were only going 4 minutes up the road, so you silenced your phone from any incoming calls or texts and impatiently tapped your foot until you pulled up to Jenny's Pub. You thanked the driver and tipped well, walking into the dimly lit area that was filled with cigarette smoke. It reminded you of Clarice's house growing up, and it made you sick. You made a beeline for the bar, ordering a glass of wine and a bottle of water before you wandered out to the patio. There were a handful of people spread out, talking and laughing, generally having a decent time.

You were not, and it wasn't because you'd caught Aaron being sneaky, but you'd checked your phone and he hadn't even tried to call, nor had he texted you. You sent him a single message, the thumbs up emoji that he loved to use to signify the conversation was over, even if you didn't want it to be. You were pissed enough to pull out your phone and call David Rossi, just to make sure he wasn't with Aaron.

"There's no way you're cooking this late," he answered on the first ring, his voice upbeat but worried at the same time.

"Are you with Aaron?"

"I'm not. Is everything okay?"

You sighed, upset you didn't know more about who he could possibly be with. Dave was the only person that you knew mutually, and he kept his other colleagues private.

"Everything's fine. I'm sorry I bothered you so late, Dave."

"Everything doesn't sound fine."

Aaron would be furious at the fact that you unloaded every insecurity you'd had in the last 12 hours on his best friend, but you didn't care. Aaron was the only friend you had that would actually listen and offer helpful advice, but calling him wasn't a possibility anymore. Almost half an hour of venting had passed and you weren't feeling any better about the situation. Dave really was trying, but without knowing why he was mad, neither of you could find a solution.

"My advice? Get drunk. Get some sleep. Act like him for a little while. Men hate that."

You couldn't even begin to put yourself in Aaron's shoes, so that wasn't helpful. You pretended like it was and promised him that you'd try to have a decent time, hanging up the phone. The patio had cleared out, everyone heading inside once the air started to get chilly. You stayed in your spot, wine swirling in your glass. You didn't have the heart to get drunk and forget about what was going on; drinking was making your mind race. Paying for another Uber seemed silly, so you searched for your keys to use between your fingers on the walk home. You patted down your pockets three times, waiting for your keys to appear, and when they didn't, you cursed out loud on the sidewalk before dialing Aaron's number.

Straight to voicemail.

Your landlord didn't unlock doors after ten pm, so unless Aaron answered before you made it home, you were screwed. You continued trying to call him as you walked uptown, but when you realized he was probably anywhere in the world but at home, you gave up. His car was still in the parking garage, so you were furious the entire time you were in the elevator. You checked your door, and it was definitely locked. You wanted to bang on his to get your key, but making a scene seemed even more useless than calling him over and over. You slumped to the ground outside of your door and leaned your head against the wall. You wanted to sleep in your bed, and forget the entire day had happened. You opted for closing your eyes against the hard wood, letting the tears stream down your face without any shame.

You could have been hurt, or worse, but he wasn't fucking ready to have a conversation, so you were preparing to sleep in the hallway. You tried calling him one last time, hearing the shrill ring through his door that was promptly ended on his end, followed by the sound of his footsteps retreating from the living room to the opposite end of the house.

You were livid. Livid didn't even begin to describe it. You were so angry that you were willing to wake the entire floor in order to get his attention. You took a deep breath, pulling out your phone that was on the fast track to being out of battery. You found a hotel three blocks away online and started the journey on foot, singing out loud to yourself the entire way. You were trying to raise your spirits and keep yourself from being terrified all at once. You were contemplating which route to take and drunkenly belting Total Eclipse of The Heart when you felt a pair of eyes on you from above, and then heard them yell shortly after.

"No one wants to hear Bonnie Tyler at 11 pm! Shut the fuck up!" You couldn't see whoever it was on the balcony next to Aaron's, but you knew who lived in that apartment. He avoided you mostly, but it was dark and you doubted he could see your face.

"Fuck you, buddy! It's dark and I'm scared and I just want to go to sleep! I'm locked out and if I don't sing, I'll cry so mind your FUCKING business and let me sing my song!"

You waited for him to tell you he was calling the cops, but he didn't. Instead he quickly apologized and told you that you had a lovely singing voice.

"I live two doors down from you, can I jump from your balcony over so I can get inside? I locked myself out."

You were standing in the street under a street lamp so he could see that you weren't just a strange person trying to get in his house. When he recognized you, he was hesitant to agree with your plan to jump.

"I dunno, the dude next door is kind of a prick. He won't like you jumping on his porch. I have... I have a rope?"

Great. Drunken parkour sounded like a hoot. He tossed you the rope and quickly returned inside so he didn't witness your demise, so you lined yourself up with your balcony and tried to toss the rope up.

You tried for thirty minutes after, until your hands were scratched from the fibers and you were crying in frustration. It was no use. Your phone was dead, the rope idea was not a good one, and you were exhausted. You'd had the bright idea to call a locksmith as soon as your phone went out, leaving you no choice but to try to play James Bond to get in. In a final fit of desperation, you tossed the rope as hard as you could, whooping loudly when it looped through one of the railings and came back down the other side.

Now it was time for the fun part. You were trying to decide what would be the least life-threatening way to climb up when someone whistled loudly at you. You looked around, but the street was empty, so you looked up.

"What are you doing?" He sounded so calm, almost amused as he leaned over the balcony and looked down at you. The smirk on his face was replaced by pure guilt when he saw you, tears streaming down your face. You felt ridiculous, but you hoped he felt even worse.

"I need my key back. Toss it down," you'd nearly cried your voice out, but you knew he heard you by the way he couldn't stop running his hands through his hair. He was already calculating how to fix what he'd done, but you were in no mood to listen to it, at least not until morning.

"I'm coming down, let me get dressed."

"NO, Aaron. I don't want you to come down here. I want to go to my apartment and go to bed. I've called you at least twenty times. Just give me my key," you were sobbing drunkenly on the sidewalk, begging your boyfriend to let you inside your apartment. It was a sight that would make any innocent bystander question their sanity.

Your key hit the pavement, followed by his door slamming. You sniffled all the way to your bedroom before flopping down on the covers, kicking your shoes off and burying your head in your pillows. Even your bed smelled like him; you fled to the couch at the realization.

✨✨✨

Another skipped sunrise had you on the couch the majority of the morning. You hadn't charged your phone, but you knew Aaron hadn't tried to get ahold of you. You heard him start his day like usual and head to work, his footsteps carrying him past your door without a second thought.

Someone had been with him last night. Someone important enough to keep a secret. He didn't have any ex girlfriends that he talked about, but if he was innocent, he'd have no problem explaining, and he hadn't even tried.

You hadn't even been fighting. You thought things were fine. Clearly, you were wrong. You had already made plans to go live and get some work done later in the day, so you peeled off your clothes and took a musicless shower for the first time in years. Your head was pounding, and music was the last thing on your mind.

With your towel still wrapped around your body, you plugged in your phone and waited for it to power on before you got dressed. As you suspected, he hadn't tried to get ahold of you. Dave had sent you several messages though.

Dave: Are you okay? Dave: Can you pencil me in for lunch? 1pm? Dave: How drunk did you get last night?

Not drunk enough. Where's lunch?

He sent you an address, and you managed to get a cab fairly quick. By the time you found the Italian place he'd chosen, your stomach was rumbling and your hands were shaking from nerves. The host led you to the table, Dave already waiting for you. He gave you a once-over before instructing you to sit.

"Acting like him didn't go so well?"

You fixed your coffee to your liking and shook your head, rehashing the events from the night before like you were one of Charlie's Angels. He kept an amused expression the entire time, but you could tell he felt bad.

"First of all, you need to super glue your keys to your forehead."

You genuinely laughed for the first time since shit had hit the fan. You didn't have a lot of friends that would help cheer you up, and you hadn't expected one of them to also be your boyfriend's best pal.

"Tell me about it. He's pretty good at secrets, huh?" Your food arrived before he could answer, and his phone rang immediately after, so he stood and excused himself but told you to eat without him. You tried to wait, but he'd ordered for you, and the summer salad special hadn't disappointed. He joined you once he was finished on the phone, asking a server nearby if he could pull up another chair.

"Do you have any objections to Aaron joining us? He was on the phone but he doesn't know you're here. Might give you a redemption shot at acting like him."

You really didn't want to see him unless he had an explanation for you, but you kept your mouth shut and told Dave it was fine.

He looked even worse than you did, if that was possible. The circles under his eyes were prominent despite how much he'd slept the day before, and they were glassy, like he'd been crying.

Good. He deserved to be sad, as sad as he'd made you. He sat down next to you without a glance in your direction, thanking Dave for lunch.

"It's no trouble. But lunch comes at a price. I'm leaving, but you two are staying right here until you sort out whatever this is," he pointed his finger between the two of you, and you sighed heavily. You knew it couldn't be avoided, you just had no clue Dave was so hell bent on the two of you working things out.

"Dave, this isn't your place," Aaron started, but Dave put up his hand to silence him.

"I'm just trying to make sure two of my friends don't throw away the opportunity to be happy. We have 4 failed attempts at love between the two of us, Aaron. Don't make it 5."

Aaron put his head down until Dave walked away, and you stayed quiet. You wanted to let him have his chance to explain before you started accusing. You picked at your salad and ignored him like he'd been doing you.

"Why'd you leave last night?" His tone was icy, you felt like a child being scolded for going out after curfew.

"Are you mad that I left, or are you upset that I saw you being shady?"

He turned his body towards you, his hands balled up in fists on his lap. He was guilty as sin and he knew it, so he was trying to throw the blame on you for leaving.

"I wasn't being shady. I don't have to inform you of every move I make, and if I don't answer your call the first time, don't keep calling."

You stared back at him blankly, because the man in front of you would never speak to you like this on a regular day. You wanted to be upset but you tried to sympathize with him anyway because you could tell something was really bothering him.

"I'm going to give you the opportunity to tell me what's bothering you, and why you're taking it out on me. You can either tell me like a normal person, or we can go back to being neighbors. It's your call," you said flatly, watching the blood drain from his face at your words. Oh, he was mad.

"If I wanted to talk, I would have answered the phone when you called the first hundred times," he rolled his eyes before turning back towards his food. As promised, you slid his spare key off your key ring and sat it on his napkin before you stood up and walked outside. You wanted him to call your bluff about going back to being neighbors, but he didn't seem too worried about you staying, because he didn't follow you.

Falling in love sucked.

taglist: @rousethemouse@realdirectionx@obsessed-oops

#aaron hotchner smut #sugar daddy hotch #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #ssa hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #hotchner #thomas gibson #camgirl reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fandom

[cable-knit-sweater]

Mayaaaaaaa! 💕 I know I just told you I was heading to write but I didn't want to start before I popped into your asks to shower you with all my love! ✨

You are going from strength to strength as a writer! I love seeing what your incredible brain comes up with! I'm always awed by how quickly you're able to put the words together and create such rich and developed worlds for us to sink our teeth into 😍

Thank you so much for trusting me with your ideas and your drafts. I honestly feel so privileged to see a message from you pop up with a "So I was thinking..." or "I couldn't stop myself from writing this!" 🥰 Every little morsel is so delicious!

I also love our little mini fic club. I'm so glad we can flail about fics we're reading at the same time and exchange recommendations!

Plus, you are such a wonderful cheerleader! 🥺🥺🥺 Thanks for all your assurances and motivation to help me get out of my current writing funk. Your encouragement is so lovely and I feel so honored to have you in my little corner cheering me on 💖✨

Anyway, I love love love your Tumblr prompt fics and your leather jacket one was the icing on top of the cake! I'm honestly so proud of you for that one! I know you have so many more coming so I'm going to send you even more love soon, but I just wanted to drop in and tell you I love you in your ask box because this one is just for you 😘

Me seeing this ask:

TEJJJJJJ 😭😭😭 HOW DARE YOU???? How are you so sweet and amazing?? I honestly don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this or you, but I’m so incredibly grateful 🥺🥺💕💕💕

I feel like I have to at least give you some of the credit for my writing these days. I trust you with my dumbest thoughts and ideas, and you’ve been nothing but the most incredible sparring partner, so so so supportive and encouraging of all of them, and sparked my creativity with your own ideas and suggestions so many times I’ve lost count. It’s honestly the best 🥰🥰🥰 And getting your feedback and lovely comments when it’s finally done? That makes my day every single time, you’re honestly the sweetest 💕💕💕

I do love our little fic club too 😂🥰, especially with the amount of AMAZING fics that we’ve been lucky enough to have come across in recent weeks, and talking and screaming about them with you has added even more joy to the experience 💖💖

And you? You’re just the most incredible writer, and I honestly just feel honored to being able to cheer you on and I if I can take away even a little bit of the doubts or funk, that would make me so so incredibly happy, because your fics honestly give me life, and I never want you to feel any doubt about your insane talent & skill 💗 (And if that gets me a ticket to the inevitable premiere of a Lane Lines movie or miniseries, that’s just a bonus 😉😂)

Andddd now you really should go write!!! Sending you even more good writing vibes, I just know that whatever you write next is going to be nothing short of amazing!! Love you to the moon and back honey 🥰🥰💖💖💖💖

#maya answers #people are so nice??? #TEJJJ my love 💕💕💕

[magpiefngrl]

For the fanfic writer game, pls and thank youuuuuu! ❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic? 🌻 How often do you read your own fics? and 💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write? If these do not spark joy or you've done them, feel free to swap them out!! xox

Hello, love! Thanks for the questions!

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

Oh this is hard! How can one choose?! Although I don't think I have any super quotable lines in my fics, there are two that came straight to my mind that I'm going with. The first is a metaphor about Blaise in dnab and I think it's one of the best metaphors I ever created:

Conversation for Blaise is an elastic band, stretched for a brief time before it snaps back to him. (from dirtynumbangelboy)

(it prob works best in context)

The second is a line that was one of the first lines I wrote for this fic, almost 6 years ago now, and it gave me the mood I wanted to go for.

It was night and it was different in the night — their edges disappeared and they became ghosts, echoes of who they were, but also true distillations of themselves: distillations of despair and loneliness and ardent, burning desire. (from 9 ½ Days)

🌻 How often do you read your own fics?

Not very often, but I'm known to go back to them. I rarely revisit some of the short ones unless there's something in the prose that I'm looking to emulate or be inspired from. Once in a few years I might reread one of my longer ones. I enjoy it loads; not just the fic but also the experience of seeing my own writing with fresh eyes.

Oh and I never read my MCD.

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

I go feral for: "casual sex first and then falling in love", and I've written it a few times. I love reading it too.

Fanfic writer ask game

#inbox #fanfic writer ask game