#and reply to this after that fic was done

[bunnys-kisses]

i only got eyes for you

col. alejandro vargas

cw: smut/pwp, protective!alejandro (borderline possessive), body worship, tender sex, missionary position

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? suggest your own. i'm always opened to new ideas <3

"do i scare you, dove?" he asked as he hand trailed up your thigh, pushing up the rather short skirt you wore. his dark eyes met yours as he smiled, "i've done a lot of bad things for the sake of safety."

you sat down in his lap and cupped his face tenderly, there was a small buzz in your head from the feeling of your lover's broad hand on your thigh. you leaned in close to him and replied, "alejandro. you're a good man, you could never convince me otherwise. i'm not scared of you."

he reached for your hair and combed his fingers through it, "good." he smiled then pulled you gently to his lips.

-

you knew that alejandro was a good man. he was protective in a way that some would view as alarming. at times it put him at odds with himself, was he keeping you trapped like a bird?

but if something happened to you.

the idea of losing you had him double checking the locks before bed. he left extra kisses on your neck before he left for missions. and always came home with flowers.

you met him by chance, you were in university in the city he was stationed at. you just thought he was a charming man, until you found his id in his wallet the next morning. you had slept with a special operative. he caught you with his wallet in your hand, for a moment you thought that he was going to pull out some fighting moves and knock you out... or worse.

"i guess you found my little secret. i lied about my name. it's not eliseo." he shrugged, "can't be going around and giving away my identity, even to pretty girls." he closed the gap between you two, he held onto your chin and looked at you, "but i am curious how alejandro sounds on your tongue."

i mean what were you supposed to do, not invite him for breakfast. after that it felt like your two lives sort of melded together. he came home from long grueling missions and would just lie on top of you. he wanted to make sure that his woman was safe till his return.

"no one else touched you, right?" he asked lowly as his hands ran up and down your arms.

you squirmed occasionally in his touch and replied, "not a soul. i'd never want anyone else alejandro. i thought about you every day." then you started to slowly kiss him.

he made a soft noise against you as his calloused hands roamed up the front of your sleeping shirt. you're the one he came home too, the woman he'd go through hell for.

and what a beautiful woman you were. it was why he worried so much about other men getting their hands on you. you were his slice of heaven and would bend the earth to make sure that you stayed that way.

call him possessive, but to lose someone so precious would turn him into a man who could not be contained by any means. so as his hands trailed your stomach, his heated gaze on you, you felt under his control.

"alejandro." you said softly.

he kissed you once more and toyed with your breast under your shirt. he heard you soft noise in your kiss then pulled away and looked down at you, "yes, my dove." both hands were still under your shirt, he was touching you gently.

"did you miss me?" you pouted.

he smiled softly and kissed you on the forehead, "every second we were apart it felt like hours." he slowly pulled the shirt over your head and exposed your breasts to him.

he kissed you once more as he started to work on his pants, which he kicked to the bottom of the bed, his hands then hooked into the waistband of your sweatpants before they were off too. in a tussle on the bed, you were both stripped on your clothes.

alejandro's cock was quite impressive. he chuckled and told you he was just "average" but you were certain that "average" didn't feel like it was in the back of your throat every time he fucked you.

he gazed down at you, "you'd tell me if anyone tried to touch you, right?" he leaned in once more, your noses almost touching. his energy was almost intimidating, it made you stomach twist in a good way.

he was feared, that was certain. he didn't get to where he was by being a pacifist. if he got his hands dirty, even for a good cause, it meant others got to stay clean. simple as that.

you both laid in bed together, where he kissed along your heated skin. he kissed along the hills and valleys of your body. the plushness under his hands as he held your hips. a goddess. a symbol of the divine feminine. the thought made him smile as he slowly kissed your breasts. he could almost feel your heartbeat.

"nothing will ever hurt you, my dove." he said softly as he gazed at you briefly before he pressed more kisses. he worshiped your body in ways that made his cock twitch.

that was why he found himself to be on the possessive side when it came to you. your name, location and other information was under a tight lock and key.

he pressed his head up against your stomach and held your hips for a moment. he exhaled deeply, "never leave me." he said out loud, but internally said, or i will have to find you.

sometimes it slipped out, the obsessive need to know that he'd never be without you. while you never noticed the intensity of what he was saying, it simply meant he could continue to pile on the security to keep his dove safe.

you ran your fingers through his dark hair and said, "alejandro. i would never, i love you too much." you watched him look up at you once more and take your hand off his hand to kiss it.

"then be good and let me take care of you." he let go and pulled away from you. he got between your legs, his cock at full attention. he rubbed it gently against the entrance of your slit. the wetness made a shiver run through him.

you reached out for him, but ended up with your hands buried in the covers. you loved him deeply, even if he could be off-putting. you labelled him as protective, even if your friends thought he was a little possessive. like who needed to check on the cameras in the house if it was just you there? but you shrugged it off, he just wanted you safe. what was wrong with that?

"are you ready, my dove." he said softly. your pussy was enticing to him, the feeling of your heat around his cock was like muscle memory, baked into his core.

you nodded, "i'm always ready for you."

he smirked. so eager, so soft and gentle. of course you fell for a man like him, you needed someone to protect you. keep you safe against a world that would take you limb from you. he leaned forward as pushed his cock deep inside of you with ease.

he chest was pressed against yours as he put his weight on you. kept you pinned down to the bed as he fucked your cunt. the sounds of your love making filled the room. your noises sounded angelic to him.

a paradise for his pleasure, the most beautiful woman in the world letting him rut his cock into you. he dug his nose into your hair as he held your hips. he moved against you, he could feel the racing of your heart.

he chuckled, "good girl. my good girl." as his grip tightened a little more. he continued to thrust into you, your bodies moved together in a rhythm that made both of you hot all over.

the kissing became sloppier as you felt your head begin to feel dizzy. despite the rush of hormones in your body, it still felt hazy as you partner held you tightly and fucked into your tight head.

he gave you soft words of praise as he grew hotter all over. his angel. there was no other woman like you, he just thought you were simply perfect. and nothing could ever convince him otherwise. he held onto your hips and thrusted up into you.

you wrapped your legs around him tightly as you moved up and down the bed. your cheeks felt flushed, pleasure was taking over. your hands soon roamed his back as you felt the strength of him.

"mine." he simply said. then went into for another searing kiss. the electricity between you two felt hot. there was a flame in your belly as you tried to meet his pace. he simply said close to you, "stay still, my dove. be good for me."

his voice sounded darker, laced with heavy pleasure as he began to pick up the pace. he watched your expression change the deeper you fell into lust.

you moaned out loud as you felt the rush through your body. with a few more heavy thrusts of his hips, you dug your nails into his back and tightened around him. your buried your head in his shoulder and climaxed.

he held onto you as tightly as he could and fucked you. it was good proper fucking as you started to fall from your orgasmic high. he kept a good grip on you as he finished inside of you.

"alejandro!" you whimpered as you felt the pace slow down.

he slowed to a still then let go of his tight grip on your body. he kept his eyes on your blissed out expression as he pulled out and laid next to you on the bed. he reached for your face and pulled you in for another kiss.

"good girl." he purred before he settled himself beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. he kept you close as he came down from his own high, his cock still soaked in your wetness.

he kissed you a few more times before he simply gazed at you with warmth in his chest. you were his girl and nothing could ever break you two apart. he simply wouldn't let it happen.

and he'd make sure you never forget who your man was. the good, proper man he was. <3

#bunny writes #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #reader insert #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas smut #alejandro vargas x female reader #alejandro vargas x reader #call of duty fanfic #call of duty x reader #call of duty mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #alejandro x reader

[humanpurposes]

I Have Always Been A Storm, Part 1

Read the full chapter on AO3 // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Floris Baratheon

In the year 128AC, Floris Baratheon weds Aemond Taragryen, a daughter and a son both driven to duty, now bound to each other when the realm is on the brink of war. Floris is enamoured by the Prince, but love is something she can only hope will bloom once her vows have been said before the eyes of the Seven- AU where Aemond and Floris marry before the Dance of the Dragons.

Warnings: 18+, smut, pregnancy, arranged marriage, canon divergence, angst, possibly quite a lot of angst, hurt/comfort

A/n: Surprise!! It's the Florismond fic no one asked for :) Planning on this being a 3 part mini series.

“A terrible coincidence,” my husband says.

Head bowed, he kneels before me where I sit on the end of our bed. Thunder and lightning rage beyond the windows but he has brought the storm inside with him. The rainwater that has drenched his hair and his riding leathers soak through my nightgown. I keep my jaw tight and my teeth pressed together to stop myself from shivering.

He has discarded his gloves to hold my hands in his, leaving a trail of kisses and tears on my skin. He circles the pad of his thumb over my fingertips, over the callouses left by my years of devotion to the harp. His hands are calloused too, from his sword, from the reins on Vhagar’s saddle.

He lifts his chin to look at me. I scarcely recognise him. My husband is a proud young man, always poised, never loud, often cold and stoic, gentle around the right people, his mother, his sister, me.

His single eye is glistening and glassy, the blue of his iris vibrant despite his distress. His breaths are laboured, his lips parted. I see nothing but hopelessness in him, but even like this, I wonder if the gods will ever manage to create a person quite so beautiful as Aemond Targaryen.

I slip a hand out of his grasp and, as gently as I can, pull on the eyepatch that covers the left side of his face. He lets me do it, as he has done many times before. A burst of lighting catches in the uneven edges of his sapphire eye. The twisted flesh that frames it is red, I wonder if it is hurting him.

I asked him once, why he was so reluctant to display this part of himself, why he wanted to hide it from me when we were first married.

His reply was always that he did not wish to frighten me.

What reason would I have to fear a scar? I’ve seen plenty of blood in my life, hunts, tourneys, accidents in the training yard. I see my own blood every moon. How could I fear my own husband?

He’s stuttering, sobbing, choking on his words. “I didn’t– I– I tried to stop her– but I was so– I just wanted him to…”

Heat rises behind my eyes. My skin is cold, my limbs frozen, but the shock is starting to wear off. I cannot listen to any more or I will surely break. 

I hush him, curling my whole body over his head. If he sees my face he will think I fear him, he will think I am horrified by him. I run a hand over his damp hair and he rests his face against the swell of my stomach.

Before he left, only a matter of days ago, after he had kissed my lips sore and stolen all the air from my lungs, he had come down to his knees to kiss my belly. By Maester Orwlye’s estimation, I only have a month left of my term. By tradition, I should be in confinement, but Aemond had ordered against it. He could not bear the thought of being apart from me, and I him. He has his own books and correspondences with Maesters across the continent. In Dorne, expectant mothers are encouraged to exercise as much as they can, to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on their skin. This would be best for our child, Aemond decided, rather than keeping me a dark bedchamber with only midwives and septas for company. 

Queen Alicent had said from the start that Aemond would make for a devoted husband, that he has always been a man of duty.

An awful sense of dread runs through my blood.

I should be glad that he has returned to me, and I am, I am .

“I wanted the boy to fear me. I did not imagine that I might…”

What can I say to him? What can I do to ease his suffering when I cannot stand the feeling of his body so close to mine? 

I am bound to him, through vows, through witnesses. I have given him my body and he has given me his. I carry his blood in my womb, my child as much as it is his. Most irreversibly of all, my heart is twined with his. I love him, and yet...

When he places a palm against my stomach, over the space where our babe grows, all I can think is that this is the hand of a kinslayer. Whatever fate the gods have for him now is my fate also. If he has cursed himself, then I too am cursed.

Full chapter on AO3

Tags (commented to be added)

Series taglist:

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @theoneeyedprince @targaryenrealnessdarling @jamespotterismydaddy @tsujifreya @blackswxnn

#my fics #florismond #floris x aemond #floris baratheon x aemond targaryen #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fic #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #floris baratheon #aemond targaryen smut #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fic #asoiaf fanfic

[cvntyworld]

omg are you gonna do a part two to your platonic ghoul fic I need to see if ghoul gets his ring back 😭

no refunds ( the ghoul / cooper howard )

summary: after finding the culprit behind his stolen ring, the ghoul decides to take you with him for a visit to your local pawn shop to get it back, to hell with the no refund policy, there's always option two.

part one , klepto

contents: part two to klepto, usual fallout shenanigans, violence, gore, shootout, reader insults the ghoul, he's a hater through and through, platonic relationship, reader ends up in a gun fight, ghoul traumatizing reader further, pawn shop owner polks the bear and brings up coopers family and it doesn't end well for him, tried to make this more soft but still rough, kinda sad, ect...

What the predicament you'd gotten yourself into with the scary cowboy dressed ghoul who smelled rotten and had an even more rotten attitude towards you.

Of course, you understood his attitude was valid, you had stolen from him after all, but, you were sure people would have done far worse to him in the time he's been alive. He still ruined your days, basically the rest of your week, he'd not even given you the chance to wrap a bandage around your hand or use a stim pack on the open wound he very obviously caused, your nose stopped bleeding but it was still very out of place and broken, he didn't care, he didn't have to, he just wanted his ring back and for some reason he thought he had to bring you along to get it. He had an annoying grip on your arm, marching you along as if you were a scolded child, and then there was the annoyance you felt as he whistled a tune while walking.

The few townsfolk that wandered around after dark were eyeing the pair of you warily, some glanced concerned as you walked past, you were a familiar face amongst them, a young face at that and those with hearts worried at the sight of you being forced along by a ghoul, and while the concern was obvious it wasn't confronted because most folks who lived here were cowards.

Your feet dragged slightly, tired from all the walking and desperate for rest, but you weren't going to receive it, not until the ghoul got back what was his. A rattly cough had erupted from him and he stopped, leaning over to try and breathe better, he let go of your arm as he heaved, taking an inhaler with liquid gold out of his pocket and letting it be breathed in heavily. You didn't bother running, he was very clear that would end with a bullet to your legs and a bullet to the legs would be bad for business on your end. He rose to his full height again with a breath and adjusts his hat on his head before turning to you, scoffing when he saw the grimace on your face. "That's some awful ass cough you've got, Mister." You stated and he huffs out a breath, shoving your shoulder to push you forward, you stumble over your feet and roll your eyes when you find that the pawn shop has entered your line of vision, with hesitant steps you approach the door and stop.

"What's the hold up?" He asks sharply and you turn with a wary stare, catching his questioning gaze, "They're closed so..." You trail off and he tilts his head, "And?" Was all that he replied back, "Well, we can't go in if they're closed, it's a rule around here, Mister..." The ghoul approaches, with a smug grin, "I don't know if you've forgot but I ain't from around here, so, guess that don't apply to me." He laughs breathily and opens the door, shoving you inside with an aggravating push and following after, the bell above that old door jingled and made you flinch, your nerves shot to hell as the ghoul approached the counter and knocked on the wooden surface mockingly.

"Yoo Hoo, anybody home?" He calls out smug, and you're quick to spot the older man who runs the place entering from the back room, looking rather furious. "Y/N, the hell are you doing here, can't you read? Sign says closed!" He states sharply and you stare with worried eyes, your gaze gesturing to the ghoul who was leaning on the counter, a rhythmic tap to his gloved fingers as he catches the mans attention, his eyes narrowing in disgust as he turns back towards you furious, "Now what in the fuck do you think you're doing bringing that fucking thing in here?" You're quick to take a step back unsurely, something the ghoul notices, and so he turns back to the man with a sigh, "I'd rethink that tone, you're scaring the little one." John Joe, the owner, draws his attention to the ghoul, "If anyone is scaring the little one, it's you, they're good for giving me the shittiest of shit and they know not to come here the moment that sign says closed so I'll bet the stupid little shit stole something of yours."

An unsettling silence filled the store and the ghoul nods, "Lookie here, Y/N, we've got ourselves a know it all." The ghoul laughs at his own words when you merely stare at him with worry in your eyes. "Not a know it all at all, just a good listener, little Y/N here was talking shit when they'd waltzed on in here this afternoon with that ring, going on about how they'd stolen some ring off a feral ghoul, looks like they get the feral part wrong, you're him, aren't you?" You glance between the two, confused, at John Joe and his words, who was him, the ghoul turns to you with this unreadable stare and you want to disappear, "That true? Were you being an arrogant little shit about who you've been stealing from?" Your terrified face says it all and in that moment you're so sure he's going to kill you, shoot you dead right there, but instead he laughs wheezily at you and then pats you on the back, almost proudly, you feel yourself tremble and try to shuffle away but he was no longer staring at you but at John Joe, who gave him the middle finger, but it wasn't the insulting hand you'd both been staring at, but what he wore on it.

A simple gold band, hammered out to fit on John Joe's fat middle finger. You glance up to stare at the ghoul in front of you and he wasn't as humoured as he was when he had walked in, his hardened stare made you take in a breath, fear churning within you as the silence became a lot more insufferable than before. John Joe put his hand down with little care, "Now, when little Y/N walked on in here with this beautiful little thing, they thought that it'd been boring, just another thing to make up the caps, but as soon as I had a closer look I knew exactly who this had belonged to, hell, I knew you'd go after them for it, they were stupid enough to steal from you of all folks so I let em' go home with more caps than usual, compensation for the death sentence they gave themselves."

The Ghoul was still quiet and you felt yourself backing up slightly when you saw his fist clench tightly by his side, "I had a replacement in place for you anyway, your shit was getting a little boring, no offence, kid, I thought that you'd never step foot in here again, that he'd shoot you dead." A laugh left him and he turned to the ghoul once more, "It's at least what I've heard from all those stories, you killed a lotta folks for less, or maybe, just maybe, some little shits rebellious tendencies are bringing back some memories, a certain someone, ain't that right, Coop?"

Coop, you frowned at the name, when you'd first walked in John Joe acted as if he'd known nothing about him, he acted oblivious to who this ghoul was and now he acted as if he knew every little thing about this ghoul that stood beside you silently. "I bet you miss that little girl of yours a whole lot, the wife too - pardon my mistake, ex wife." You knew he was poking the bear and you grew worried when the Ghoul laughed abruptly and then went silent, the two stared at one another for a moment and just as John Joe is reaching for his gun under the counter, the ghoul held his gun forward and fired, the bullet smashing apart flesh and bone, John Joe's hand being shot clean off, you are quick to stumble back in fright, watching as the ghoul is approaching the hand slowly and picking the limb up, a sadistic grin as he slides the ring off the useless finger, a breathy laugh leaving him as he stares at it.

John Joe was screaming, whaling, rolling around with a look of pure agony as he clutched his handless arm, the ghoul wasn't finished yet, rounder the counter with a tilt of his head, staring down at him mockingly, "You're right about one thing." He says calmly, "I have killed people for less." He admits and John Joe's cries are cut off when he pulls the trigger once more, shooting him dead without a care in the world.

You remain quiet, pressed into a corner with a frightened look, tears burn in your eyes but you blink them away the moment the ghoul looks up to find you. "Dry your eyes, if I was gonna kill ya, I woulda done it the moment you had came through the front door of that little house of yours." The reassurance didn't give you a lot of comfort and you watch as he slips the ring into his pocket again. "Why do you hide it, your ring, I mean?" You ask suddenly and the ghoul glances in your direction, meeting your curious yet worried eyes, he shrugged, "It's like your deceased friend said, ain't no point wearing a ring when there ain't a wife to wear it for."

You move forward but not enough that you're near John Joe's dead body, "My daddy still wore his ring, even after my mama passed away, it's the one thing that he kept of her, the one thing he didn't sell off to some lowlife." You'd remembered that ring, it was made of wire, it was still on his finger when they'd chopped his hands off.

The ghoul laughed quietly, "hate to break it to you, but, I ain't the sentimental type like your daddy was, sweetie." You scoff at this, "My dad wasn't sentimental, far from it, he just, he loved my ma, you know?" The ghoul sighs at your saddened words, but didn't attempt to bring a kind of comfort to you, you didn't want comfort. "Do you ever miss your wife, mister?" You suddenly ask and he felt as if he'd been frozen in place, unsure why he would even let a conversation like this open up, he felt his heart in his coat pocket, the ring cold against his hands.

"All the time." He admits quietly, "All the damn time." You frown, a waver of sympathy that comes and goes and at his final answer he approaches you and places the pouch of caps in your hands that he'd stolen from you when he had broken into your home.

"You keep that heart of yours strong, ya hear?"

Then he was gone.

#fallout #fallout tv show #fallout tv series #cooper howard x platonic reader #the ghoul x platonic reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul #he's a little bit nicer here but it's just cause he wanted his ring back #hopefully i didn't totally get him out of character but i needed to add a little dialogue between him and the reader yk

[ilovepaigebueckerss]

the other woman.

p.b x reader

summary: while paige is out with her fellow UCONN team members, you join a live to see something that could ruin everything.

authors note: ummm guys this is my first ever fic? idk but enjoy and lemme know what i can fix!! i also do not know how to use tumblr at all so ignore that. also should i make a pt. 2??

——————————————————————————

you’re kind of a loser so whenever your girlfriend paige goes out with her team you usually just stay home. your mindlessly scrolling through your phone when you get a notification ‘Ice Brady is now live!’ you decide to click on the live due to your boredom. you see them sitting around talking about their recent win and their plans for after the season. you notice everyone on the team was there except paige and azzi. you decide to just ignore it cause maybe they are in the bathroom and you don’t wanna overthink it. ice then flips the camera showing a curly haired girl and blonde girl in the corner kissing each other. ‘is that MY blonde?..’ you ask yourself. you can see the fear in ices face as she realizes what she just did, ending the live quickly. tears swell in your eyes as you try to process what just happened.

———————————————————————————

your eyes are puffy and red from you crying all night. you read the alarm clock next to you ‘1:03’ you then hear a familiar voice calling your name. the voice makes you feel sick to your stomach. just thinking about the events that unfolded made you sick. “y/nnnn” paige calls for you all singy songy. you then realize that she isn’t alone. you hear another familiar voice and your stomach drops when you realize who it is. azzi fudd. “in the room” you reply dully but loud enough for them to hear. “hiiiii babbbyyyy” paige says, smiling brightly. “hi y/n” azzi says smiling. “hey.” you respond, not wanting to talk to either of them. “i got her from here, thanks azzi.” you say taking the drunk blonde in your hands. “no problem! goodnight!” she replies.

you turn to the drunken blonde in your arms and you cant help but smile. for some reason.. even after tonight she still brings you a sense of comfort. you should hate her, but you just cant seem to bring yourself to. “I’m gonna start you a shower, okay?” you say facing the blonde. “okkkayyyy” she responds, kissing your lips. it feels weird, knowing that her lips were on someone else’s. you lead paige on the bed and she sits down and starts scrolling on her phone as she waits for her shower to be ready.

———————————————————————————

while paige takes her shower you set out some boxers and a white tank top for her to put on whenever shes done. you go to get her some tea and aspirin, so the hangover in the morning isn’t as bad. you start to zone out. letting your thoughts get to you. ‘why her and not me?’ you question, the next thing you know your crying. your actually sobbing. you were so busy with your thoughts you didn’t realize paige had already came back. “y/n?” she asked concern filling her voice. you quickly wipe your tears and respond “yes paige?” sounding squeaky. ‘shit’ you think to yourself. paige walks in the living room where you sat. “hey, hey, whats wrong?” she asks you. “nothing, paige I’m just tired.” you respond dully. she frowns at your response. “y/n, baby, talk to me please” you say nothing. “I’m going to bed.” you respond. paige frowns again, but decides to just leave it alone.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #fanfic #uconn wbb #uconn huskies

[blackbird-brewster]

Meta: Jemily Queerbaiting

With the huge influx of posts saying 'Jemily is gonna be canon', I really appreciated seeing this post because OP was completely correct. I didn't want to write an entire dissertation as a reply, so I'm making my own post with my personal opinion on this. (All sources are noted in footnotes)

Before I began this rant, for anyone who thinks this is anti-Jemily. It is not. I have shipped Jemily for 18 friggin years and that's never going to change. This post is specifically my thoughts about queer baiting.

First off, I need to note that the showrunners (and the cast members who use social media) KNOW what a huge queer following this show has and that's why we got pansexual Tara Lewis in S16 [1]. Which, in itself, was SOOOOOOO important!!! Our first canonically queer main in SIXTEEN seasons was a middle-aged Black woman!!! That's phenomenal. (The fact it was horrible rep, because they instantly ruined her relationships once her queerness served it's plot point is a whole other post entirely)

In my opinion, the 'big Jemily moment' Paget posted about on Twitter [2] (and AJ hinted at during a recent IG live) is simply queerbaiting to get people to watch S17. I know a lot of you are newer to the fandom and I love your enthusiasm, I really do, ship and let ship, but listen, let's be real, Jemily is not going to be made canon. The showrunners aren't going to suddenly say (after 17 seasons) 'Surprise, Jemily is endgame'. This show has never cared about queer rep and now that CBS/Paramount have already ticked their queer rep box with Tara, they won't be in any rush to add any other characters to it.

Please buckle in, I've got a lot of thoughts on this matter --

What is Queerbaiting?

If you aren't aware of what queerbaiting is, here's a good definition:

Historically, queerbaiting has carried two meanings: the first is an act of aggressive heterosexuality to shut down queer subtext on screen while still teasing and catering to the queer audience in advertising, public relations, and fan engagement strategies; the second is an existing homoerotic tension between two characters played up on screen while met with derision by the professionals behind the scenes. [3]

The Medium article quoted here is from 2017, a time when parasocial relationships were really starting to take over social media. In 2024, actors are now only a mention or tag away online, they have direct conversations with fans, and this process has allowed for an even deeper form of queerbaiting.

Oftentimes online, actors are asked directly about certain ships and while some ignore these questions (usually to avoid breaking their contracts or other repercussions), others (looking at you, Paget) choose to instead tease fans about queer ships. She's done this for years upon years and if I've learned anything in the past twenty-years of existing in fandom spaces it's this -- don't hold your breath. In it's original meaning, for something to be deemed as queerbaiting there had to be malicious, or at least, purposeful intent to string queer fans along by teasing them with suggestive content about the ship in question, while knowing this ship will never come to fruition in canon.

The thing to remember is, Paget and AJ aren't the only ones who know about Jemily shippers -- the network and showrunners are well aware of this ship too. When networks/showrunners figure out they have a strong sapphic fanbase, they love to use that to their advantage to get more viewers and higher ratings. Queerbaiting is a goldmine to keep fans watching long running shows, look at Rizzoli and Isles, Supergirl, and OUAT for examples of this.

Jemily and Queerbaiting:

Ever since Emily joined the BAU in S2 (2006), there have always been fans who ship JJ/Emily (shoutout to the old LJ forums!). Way before celebs were just a tweet away from fans, back when all our fics began with disclaimers so we wouldn't get sued by networks, we went to great lengths to keep our fanworks far removed from actors/showrunners attention.

As far as Jemily goes, this reply from Paget in a 2009 interview with TVGuide.com [4] (which has now been deleted from their site unfortunately, but there are quotes on Tumblr still [4.a]) confirmed some fans' worst fear -- the actors had found our fanworks online.

TVGuide.com: Of course, a band of fans want her to hook up with Hotch.

Brewster: I know! I didn't realize that fans make these videos on YouTube? A.J. Cook sent me a hilarious one that made it look like Prentiss and J.J. were having a secret lesbian affair. You know, when Hotch was blown up in the SUV, we shot this scene where he's in the hospital and I'm standing next to him, looking at his bleeding ear. Our director came in and said, "Paget, you're looking at Hotch like you're in love with him. It looks really weird." So now, every day, Thomas [Gibson] and I flutter our eyelids at each other.

This was the first time I recall anyone acknowledging Jemily shippers publicly and at the time (Jan 2009), the show was still in Season Four (just before CBS fired both AJ and Paget [5]). Paget genuinely said it's 'hilarious' that fans shipped JJ/Emily. Even now, I'll see people say 'We know Paget and AJ have seen Jemily fanvids, so they obviously ship it too' -- but those same people rarely acknowledge the full context of the original answer. Paget not only thought JJ/Emily were 'hilarious', but then she doubled down and turned her reply back to how she and Thomas liked to play up the chemistry between Emily/Hotch.

While no one can say for sure which video it was that AJ sent Paget, just knowing they were watching JJ/Emily fanvids sent a bit of a shockwave through the femslash side of the fandom. To some it felt like an invasion of privacy, fanworks are by fans for fans -- knowing the cast were poking around in fandom spaces added an extra layer of worry around what we fans were posting online. Fifteen years ago, it used to be quite taboo for actors to outwardly discuss shipping or other fanon for whatever show they were in, and we fans were usually comfortably removed from the actors altogether.

Of course, now it's the norm for fans and actors/showrunners to co-exist online and interact with one another. This connection has opened new ways for shows to queerbait their fans. Pretty much every show has some form of social media account now and there is no doubt that the people running those accounts keep up with the most popular ships and hashtags. Not to mention that actors are constantly barraged with questions about whether they ship their character with x,y,z, or whether they think a ship should be made canon, etc. These interactions only serve to benefit the shows themselves, because whether the conversation is for or against a certain ship, it's all just free publicity (Why do you think CM now has a TikTok account?)

Every time AJ or Paget say anything about Jemily, the queer side of the fandom loses their minds. But this has been going on for YEARS now and every single time, it turns out to be nothing but social media hype and queerbaiting. Remember this AJ post? [6] Or what about the notorious reply by Paget to a fan, where she talks about how she and AJ held hands under the table 'for the shippers' [7] I've seen this cycle over and over again, so perhaps I am cynical, but I'm not getting my hopes up that Jemily will ever seriously be canon.

It's widely known now, after both Kirsten [8] and Paget [9] have talked about it, that there was an early idea where Prentiss was supposed to be queer, but that was ultimately scraped before it ever made it on screen. For context, please remember, this show has been airing for nearly twenty years. It began in 2005, during the highly conservative Bush administration. Queer people didn't have rights in the US, we couldn't get married, we were rarely protected under discrimination laws, and we could even be fired for simply being queer (in some states). Diverse queer representation on screen was extremely limited to things like 'The L Word' and 'Queer as Folk' (both aired on Showtime, so they were behind a paywall. And as far as tLw goes, that show was extremely male-gaze focused and is horrible in nearly all regards if you try to rewatch it now). As far as prime time shows went, queer rep was even more rare. Which is why Emily wasn't queer from the get-go.

Yes, things have changed since 2006 in terms of queer rep on TV. We have a myriad of queer identities represented in TV and film nowadays, which is why I think it's so easy for newer fans to say 'lf she was supposed to be gay anyway, they should just make Emily queer in canon!' I know this is what fuels most fans' demands for Emily being confirmed queer, and I get it, I DO. I would be all for it! However, I do not, in one hundred years, actually believe that is going to happen after they already canonically queer confirmed Tara in S16. The fact we even got ONE queer character is ground-breaking for this show.

It's also worth noting, that in the time between Paget's departure in 2012 and her return in 2016, she became very active on Twitter. This was when more and more fans began asking her about Jemily and after Kirsten's AfterEllen interview, fans also pushed for Paget to address the possibility of Emily being gay. 'Pushed' is actually an understatement for some of the outright harassment she would receive. (AJ received some of this harassment too, but less so because she doesn't use social media ass often) Back then, neither of them replied to these things directly. Yet, no matter what either woman posted, the replies were full of Jemily stans begging for her acknowledgement. (Did you know 'stan' is literally a term coined for stalker fans?) I remember one time AJ's friend was missing and she posted info on her IG about it, you know what the replies were? People asking her about Jemily. It was genuinely sickening.

Within this context, it was no surprise to fans when Emily came back in S12 , she and JJ's friendship was seemingly erased. The two women were rarely on screen together in the late seasons, plus the writers saw fit to even give Emily not only one (Mark in London, but two, on-screen boyfriends for the first time in the entire series. I personally do not think these changes to Emily's character were coincidence, I saw the hellscape of what people would say to AJ and Paget online and I fully believe that upon Paget's return to the show, the showrunners purposely tried to distance JJ and Emily to dissuade the more abusive side of the fanbase.

Can I prove that, no. But it is the only reason I can think of as to why Emily S12+ seemingly didn't care about JJ anymore, despite their deep and meaningful friendship. I mean, they both CROSSED THE WORLD to go rescue each other in prior canon -- but when Emily comes back, they acted like they barely knew each other. This was even more prevalent in S16, when JJ's main storylines all revolved around Will, and Emily barely looked at JJ in the entirety of ten episodes. (Remember how Prentiss didn't even hug JJ after bomb, but she did go hug Luke?)

So, do Paget and AJ earnestly ship Jemily, or are they continuing the long tradition of queerbaiting us? Who fucking knows, not me. But based on the history of this fandom, I think I can make a safe bet. (Interestingly, if you search all of Paget's twitter for the word 'Jemily' [10] she only has 3 direct tweets mentioning the ship. I don't think it's a coincidence that two are within the past few months since they started filming S17 (the other one was a RT of Kirsten (who tagged something Jemily)

This is all to say --

Just because Paget and AJ have publicly talked about Jemily,, this doesn't mean it's ever going to happen on screen. And you know what, THAT'S OKAY!! There has been this constant outcry (after Tara became queer confirmed) of 'Do Emily next' or 'Why wasn't it Emily with a girlfriend!?' and 'Jemily needs to be canon in S17!' -- as if people believe their ships aren't worth anything unless they are canon.

That couldn't be further from the truth! Fandom is built on headcanons and fan interpretations and rare pairs and all types of shippers. Your ship does NOT need to be canon for you to enjoy it. I will ship Jemily forever, no matter what. I don't think there will be some magical queer plot in S17, at best, we might actually get to see Emily/JJ on screen together again and after the train wreck that was S16 -- I'll take whatever I can get.

And hey -- if I am completely wrong, if Erica Messer pulls a Korrasami out of her hat, I will be ecstatic. I will be happy to be proved wrong, but at the same time, I'm not going to lose sleep over it and I'm DEFINITELY not going to go hound the actors about it on social media.

Sources:

[1] 2022 Digital Spy article about the importance of Tara's coming out

[2] 04/18/24 Paget Tweet

[3] 2017 Queerbaiting article from medium.com

[4] 2009 Broken TVGuide link

[4.a] Tumblr quote from the above TVGuide Interview

[5] 2010 Kirsten interview screenrant.com

[6] 2019 AJ Instagram Post

[7] 2020 Paget video on Twitter (via @karasluthqr)

[8] 2015 Kirsten interview AfterEllen.com

[9] 2016 Paget Interview CriminalMindsFans.com

[10] @PagetPaget search 'Jemily'

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #paget brewster #aj cook #cm commentary #queerbaiting #cm meta #criminal minds evolution #cm evolution #my writing

[the-marshals-wife]

Strangers Like Me (Orm Marius x Reader)

A/N: I love Orm so, so much, and I've wanted to write for him since my major obsession with the first movie back in 2019. The sequel was everything I could have wanted for his character, and now that he's had the perfect open ending to his cinematic story, I finally let the inspiration run wild. This is the longest fic I've ever posted, and I'm proud to say he was the muse that inspired it.

Description: Orm Marius/Ocean Master x Fem!Reader (human), friends to lovers | Warnings: suggestive themes, steaminess at the end, cataclysmic levels of fluff throughout | Setting: after The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 5.8k

Gif credit: user acecroft

Imagine Orm opening up to you about who he truly is, and wanting to be part of your world

If someone had asked you a few months ago where you liked to be most, you wouldn't have said the boardwalk. Now, it'd become your favorite place in the world. Not for the noisy crowds, overpriced deep-fried foods, or vendors overflowing with cheap beachwear and souvenirs for the tourists. Those things you could have done without. That is, until you met Orm. Ever since that fateful day, everything around you had transformed into something new and exciting. Today was no different.

"I can't believe you've never had a corn dog before," you say.

Orm walks alongside you, well into his second serving. "And I can't believe something this abysmal in appearance can taste so good," he replies before taking another bite.

"Seriously, what have you been eating all this time?" you ask, wiping the mustard from the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

He swallows before answering, "Fish, mostly."

He was completely serious, as usual.

"You really love seafood, don't you?"

"Where I'm from, it's just called food," he counters.

Once again, you found yourself wanting to ask where exactly that place was. The last time you inquired yielded little insight. He gave a vague reply to the tune of "somewhere far away" and quickly changed the subject. For a while, you'd assumed he was originally European or something like that. Yet the more time went on, the more difficult it became to believe in that explanation. There must be a reason he did not want to talk about it, and you knew when he was ready, he would probably tell you. Still, you couldn't help but wonder where he had come from, and why he had not showed up sooner.

"So, what did you think of your first corn dog?" you ask instead.

"It was excellent. And I imagine it will not be my last," he says, tossing the stick into a trashcan as you walk by, "I still don't understand the name though, if it's not made of dog."

"Me either, honestly," you laugh as you toss your trash as well, "I'll have to look it up sometime."

"Speaking of, I listened to the singer you told me about."

"You did? What did you think?!" you exclaim, almost bumping into a passerby in your excitement.

"She is quite good, vocally. But I do think Ms. Parton would have more success exposing her rival publicly," he suggests.

"I know you're not talking about Jolene right now," you burst out laughing, covering your mouth.

"Indeed. This Jolene is a siren. She lures men with her wiles, and then goes unpunished because of her beauty," he explains wholeheartedly, holding his arms behind his back.

"Well that's the point of the song. Dolly is calling her out," you remind, "Plus what about her man? Shouldn't he get some of the blame? Falling for Jolene when he's already in a relationship? I mean come on, he's talking about her in his sleep. That's pretty low."

"Indeed, he misses the treasure that is right in front of him because he too has no honor," he expounds, his expression turning thoughtful, "You're right. Ultimately, they're deserving of each other."

"See! I told you," you chuckle victoriously.

Orm shakes his head, "I could not be tempted by such a woman."

"Oh, I don't know. You heard Dolly. Her beauty is 'beyond compare'."

"That is merely a facade," he dismisses, waving his hand, "Besides, I have seen far more beautiful than her."

You're about to inquire about his remark, but then you realize he's looking over at you. You can only hold his attentive gaze a moment before averting your eyes toward your feet, heart fluttering.

The previous moment still hanging heavy in the air, you walk together quietly for a minute before Orm stops in front of a beachwear vendor.

"Now that is amusing," he declares.

You backup a couple of steps to stand alongside him, "What is?"

He points to a pink tee shirt, the image of a mermaid riding on the back of a smiling dolphin printed on the front. "Dolphins are actually quite aggressive. They do not enjoy having riders on their backs. Sharks are much better mounts."

You stare at him, brow furrowed. "And how do you know that exactly?"

"I, uh, saw it on a television program," he stutters, "about taming sea life."

That was a lie if you'd ever heard one, and a strange one no less.

"Uh-huh," you reply unconvinced, walking away.

In silence, you resume your short walk to the end of the dock, Orm trailing close behind you. Once you reach the end, you lean over and rest your arms on the weathered wood railing, and he stands beside you. A few moments pass as you watch the waves crash upon the shore below and breathe in the salt air. It's not long before you feel his gaze on you once again.

He finally speaks, hesitation thick in his voice, "Something...on your mind?"

You smirk to yourself before looking over at him, "I'm just trying to figure you out."

"What do you mean?" he asks, concern visible in his bright eyes.

"I've never met anyone like you before. So much of what you say is a mystery," you remark.

"That is a fair point," he concedes, "I don't wish to vex you. There's just...so much that I don't know how to say."

You stand up straighter, smiling at him softly.

"I didn't mean it as a bad thing. Everyone has parts of themselves that they hide. Parts they don't want anyone else to see. There's nothing wrong with that," you reply, turning towards the ocean, "You don't like talking about your past, and I respect that. I just don't want you to think you have to hide. It's awful feeling like you don't belong, just for being yourself. I wouldn't want that for you."

"That is kind of you to say. Truly." He mirrors your posture on the railing, moving closer to you as a result. "You don't make me want to hide, Y/N. Quite the opposite, actually. I've learned so many things from you these past few weeks, and I have greatly enjoyed your company."

You look back to him, your heart skipping, "So have I."

His gaze softens. "I've also never met anyone like you before. You find joy and purpose in even the smallest of things. It inspires me how gracefully you view the world. And I've known no one whom I've wanted to share it with more."

Everything else around you melted away as you find yourself becoming just as lost in his eyes as you've been in his words.

Before either of you can move an inch closer, the chime of your cellphone cuts through the thick air between you.

Cursing inwardly, you shoot upright, embarrassed, and retrieve it from your pocket. It's an all-caps text from your sister with many exclamation marks, quickly followed by another. The sister you just now realized you forgot needed picked up.

"Oh no. I have to go," you say, frenzied, "My sister's waiting for me. I have to drive her home from her class, I completely forgot!"

"I understand," he nods, touching your arm assuringly, "Do you want me to accompany you back to the lot?"

"I really appreciate it, but I literally have to run. I'm so sorry, Orm," you say, turning to leave.

You make it only a few steps before you hear him call out.

"Y/N!"

Despite the urgency of your escape, you can't help but turn on your heel expectantly.

"Would you meet me tomorrow? Down on the beach, beneath the pier around sunset?"

A grin spreads across your face. "I'll be there!"

♆

It took everything in you not to grin like an idiot the entire drive to pick up your less-than-amused sister. You weren't ready for the brutal interrogation that would surely come if she saw the look you knew was on your face. After apologizing to her profusely and letting her chew you out, as was her sisterly right, her suspicions were already raised.

"You've never looked this happy for me to yell at you," she said, glaring at you.

"I'm just really enjoying my book! I started the sequel I told you about," you defended, flashing a smile even you knew was pretty fake.

"Enough to forget all about me," she rolled her eyes and punched your arm, "You're not telling me something, I know it."

"I'm dying to know if she's really the lost heir to the throne, I heard the reveal is like halfway through," you add, ignoring her last words.

"Mhm," she grumbled, "Fine don't tell me. I'll figure it out, just wait. You can't hide from me."

"The only thing I need to hide from you is my chocolate bars," you argue in a desperate attempt to throw her off the subject.

"I'll find those too," she snickered confidently.

You laughed it off and went back to biting down hard on your lip. It was the only thing you could do not to spill everything to her as she continued to give you the side-eye. Your body was at the steering wheel, but your mind, and your heart, were back on that boardwalk. The final glare she gave you in her driveway was unmissable, but for now, you'd evaded being found out as you made a getaway back to your own apartment.

That night you'd hardly slept, the moment at the end of the dock replaying in your mind over and over well into the morning. Work only made it worse, the monotony making the perfect backdrop to picture what the coming evening would bring. When your shift ended, you couldn't get out of there fast enough to go home and change.

Now, with sunset fast approaching, you were circling the parking lot trying to find a space, and close to bribing someone to move, when a spot finally opened up.

"Someone loves me," you exhale, hurriedly locking your car as you throw your bag over your shoulder.

The words linger in your thoughts. You can't help but blush at the notion, given your current destination, and who was waiting there.

In some ways it seemed like a lifetime since you met Orm, and in others it felt like only yesterday. The memory of that fateful day comes to the front of your thoughts as you start the long trek to the path that cuts through the dunes.

Unlike your fib from last night, you'd actually been desperate to finish the book your coworker had been pestering you about all summer. With only four chapters left, you'd escaped to the boardwalk one sunny Tuesday afternoon, hoping to find a bench, a fresh lemonade, and far less crowds than the weekend so that you could finally finish in peace.

Just as you'd sucked up the last drop of your drink and reached the last handful of pages, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. On a bench across the way from you, you saw a man trying to untangle the most knotted pair of earbuds you'd ever seen in your life. You watched him from behind the top of your book, and suppressed a giggle as he became more animated in frustration. He ran a hand through his blond hair and seemed near to giving up on the whole endeavor. Unable to watch him struggle any longer, you tucked your book beneath your arm, tossed your empty cup in the trash, and started to walk over.

"He did this on purpose," he muttered as you approached.

"I can take a crack at them, if you'd like."

In his fierce concentration, he hadn't noticed you approach. He jumped a bit at your greeting, and squinted up at you, confused.

"Hi. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Would you like some help with those?" you smiled hesitantly, "I just, I couldn't help but notice you were having a hard time with them."

"Well, you are welcome to try," he invited with a sigh, extending them to you, "Although I have seen seaweed less entangled than this."

You took them and sat down beside him, analyzing the knots.

"Earbuds are pretty notorious for getting tangled," you began, pausing to focus a moment, "These, however, look like a sailor used them to practice tying his knots."

"Courtesy of my brother," he said with no small amount of exasperation, "He delights in making things difficult for me."

"As brothers are wont to do."

"Indeed," he conceded.

Untying your own numerous pairs of earbuds over the years had more than prepared you for this moment. You'd made quick work of separating the right and left buds, down to the last few kinks in each.

"You're quite skilled at this," he observed.

"I should probably put it on my resume, huh?" you chuckled as you conquered the final knot.

"I think you might consider it," he laughed as well.

At last, all the tangles were gone.

"There you go," you declared, handing them back, "Good as new."

"Impressive," he remarked, marveling at your handiwork before looking back at you, "Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome," you smiled and pointed to the iPod in his lap, "What do you like to listen to, if you don't mind me asking?"

He hesitated, picking it up, "I'm...not actually sure how this device works. Are you familiar with the technology?"

"An iPod?" you laugh, "Yeah, I had one in high school. It's been a while and it wasn't this exact model, but they're all pretty much the same. MP3 players, that is. I had so many songs on mine, I couldn't add any more. Never went anywhere without it. I had to tape it together in senior year because I used it so much."

"Perhaps you could show me how to properly operate it?" he posed, turning towards you more, "My brother sent it to me. He said it contains music inside that I must hear, but I'm at a loss on knowing how to make it play."

You gazed at him bewildered a moment, caught off guard. Never had you met anyone who didn't know how to work an iPod before. But then again, you reminded yourself, not everyone had a chance to own one.

"Sure," you grinned, "I can show you. There's not too much to it, really, once you know the basics."

"Thank you," he replied sincerely, "It's not often that I've met a lady with such kindness, and lightness of fingers."

Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks at his gracious works, and suddenly it was difficult to hold the gaze of his rich blue eyes.

"It's no problem at all," you replied, offering your hand, "I'm Y/N, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Orm Marius, and the pleasure is mine."

Before you could blink, he'd taken your hand, and instead of shaking it, he kissed your knuckles. If he had lingered, perhaps it would have alarmed you. But he did it so quickly, it was like it was second-nature to him. Practiced or not, your head spun nonetheless, and launching into an urgent, flustered spiel about how to power on the iPod was all you could do to keep yourself held together.

You spent the next half an hour showing him everything from the buttons to the way to change the background image on the menus. Before long, you were talking about all of your favorite songs and artists, simultaneously making lists for each that he would have to listen to. Orm listened eagerly to your recommendations, and soon the conversation turned to any and every subject, from foods to places to dreams. You still remember the feeling of the rest of the world fading away as you talked to him, afternoon turning to evening. And the thrill you felt when he asked if he could see you again.

In the almost four months since, every meeting followed much in the same manner as that first day, with introducing Orm to the many things he'd never experienced before, and hours of conversation on the pier or walking along the beach. You'd stolen away to this area as many times as possible to see him, well over a dozen now. Of course your sister was more suspicious than ever after yesterday, but you still weren't ready to reveal where you'd been spending so many evenings, and who you'd spent them with. There was something exhilarating about you and Orm meeting secretly, and you wanted that feeling to last as long as possible.

He had such wonder about the world, like someone who'd not been in it very long. It was one of his oddest qualities, but his curiosity was endearing to you. Despite knowing so little about his past, you'd come to trust him like few others in your life. Whoever he'd been before, and wherever he was from, it seemed he had no intention on going back. If you were honest with yourself, you didn't want him to. There were so many places you wanted to take him further inland, yet he was still hesitant to go far from from the ocean. You'd never gone beyond a couple of blocks from the boardwalk together, but tonight, with the energy of yesterday's encounter fresh in your mind, you'd planned to breech the topic with him.

Now, the sun is sinking lower in the pale orange sky and your pulse quickens with the threat of being late. With all your reminiscing and daydreaming, you'd lost track of the time. You nearly run across the wooden walkway over the dunes and down the broad stairs. As soon as your feet hit the sand, you remove your sandals. Grasping them in one hand and the strap of your bookbag in the other, you take off into the best sprint you can manage. The pier is still a good distance up the beach, and you want to curse out whoever built the access so far away. You run at an angle towards the water, the wetter ground giving you better traction than the loose sand.

Just within the shadow of the great structure, you finally see Orm up ahead, his back turned. Out of breath, you slow your pace and try to catch some of it back before you reach him. Once he's within ear shot you call out to him.

"I'm sorry I left in such a hurry yesterday," you pant.

He spins on his heel. Relief is written all over his face.

"You came. I was afraid you might not," he sighs, walking up to meet you.

"Of course," you exhale, dropping your shoes and brushing away the hair clinging to your forehead, "Why wouldn't I?"

His expression indicates he had not thought of an answer to that question.

"I don't know," he hesitates, "I didn't mean anything by that. I mean, I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't. I did ask you at the last minute."

You can't help but chuckle as he stumbles regretfully all over his words.

"I brought you something," you declare to change the subject, much to his gratitude.

"A gift? For me?"

You can tell by his tone that he is actually baffled. Reaching into your satchel, you retrieve the item. In your outstretched palm, you hold a small snow globe, a miniature skyline of New York City contained inside.

His confused expression leads you to elaborate. "It's called a snow globe," you say, turning it upside down so that the little flakes inside swirl around, "You told me once that you never get to see snow where you're from. Now you can see it whenever you want."

He tentatively takes it, entranced by the miniature flurry.

"That's where I'm from. Well, I grew up there. We moved here when I was sixteen," you add, chuckling, "It's a little bit nicer in person."

Orm looks up at you, visibly touched by the gesture, "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you smile, "I, hope that I can show you the real thing some day."

"I would like that," he replies with the smallest hint of sadness, pausing to behold it again, "I will treasure this always."

You'd never met anyone who talked like he did. Everything word he spoke was with full conviction. Others might sound pompous or conceited speaking the way he does, but when he said something, you believed he truly meant it.

"I'm glad you like it," you say, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I do, very much," he says, frowning a bit, "I'm only sorry that I have nothing to give you in return."

"That's alright," you dismiss.

"Will you keep it safe for me while we are by the water? I regret that I have no pockets large enough to carry it."

"Absolutely," you say, putting it securely back inside your bag, "I know that feeling all too well."

When you finish with the zipper and lift your head up, you see Orm offering his arm to you. Surprised, and twice as excited, you take it.

As you cross beneath the pier and set off down the beach together, you suppress the urge to glance up at him. You agonize over what to say next, hoping he would speak first. When he did, it only made your heart beat faster.

"Actually, when I said I had nothing to give you, that was not entirely true," he said, clearing his throat before going on, "As much as I enjoy your educating me in foods and traditions I've never tried, I was hoping this evening we might enjoy a treat of a different kind."

Just up ahead, something on the shore comes into view. Your mind races in anticipation, and moments later, you come upon a blue blanket spread out neatly across the sand. A single white rose lies in the middle.

"Oh Orm," you breathe.

"It's not much, but I thought you would like to watch the sunset with at least some level of comfort," he says, a veil of nervousness in his voice.

"It's perfect," you exclaim.

He releases your arm and picks up the rose, presenting it to you.

"For you."

You feel nearly breathless once more as you take the flower and inhale its sweet fragrance.

"It's beautiful," you sigh, "Thank you."

He smiles timidly at your approval. "Shall we?"

"This is amazing," you say, removing your bag and carefully sitting down on the soft blanket.

He follows suit, and you gently place the rose in your lap as he comes to rest close beside you. The glow of the setting sun warms your skin, but it's nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

You'd never seen him act like this before. He was normally so calm and collected, but now he was almost pure nerves. You work up the courage to glance over at him. He's staring hard ahead, clenching his jaw and rolling a seashell between his fingers. It's slowly becoming clear that you're not the only one who wanted to say something this evening. Normally, you found the rolling of the waves to be one of most soothing sounds in the world. But at this moment, they were far too loud.

You decide you have to break the excruciating silence.

"I've only watched a true beach sunset alone before."

Your voice brings him out from his trance. "I've also been by myself. I'm glad I have someone to share the splendor with."

"Me too."

He smiles weakly, and fixes his stare back on the horizon.

To your disappointment, the silence returns. Before long, everything is bathed in golden light. The sky transforms into rich oranges and reds before your eyes. The beach is surprisingly deserted apart from the seagulls and sand pipers, making it seem all the more that this moment was tailor-made just for the two of you.

Just when you're about to speak again, Orm at last turns towards you.

"I wish I could show you my world, Y/N. It is a realm of beauty, and strength, and light. You belong in such a place."

You feel your cheeks flush as he continues.

"Where I'm from, you can't see the stars at night. But there is a place with magnificent, glowing lights. A cave, filled with luminescence of every color you can imagine. You would absolutely love it."

"That sounds magical." You hang on his every word as you try to picture it.

"My mother used to take me there when I was a boy. I remember my whole hand disappearing inside hers." He smiled at the memory, but it faded as he spoke once more, "We used to go there seeking solace from my father."

Frowning, he throws the seashell towards the water. The sun begins to dissolve into the ocean, but neither of you take notice.

"Did you not get along?" you ask, hoping it was not too personal to do so.

His gaze falls downward again. "That's one way of putting it. Growing up in his shadow was- challenging. He was severe about many things, and against all of the rest. He expected me to become just like him. Demanded it, more like. Yet he was never up to the task of teaching me how. I wanted nothing more than to please him, but as I look back on it now, I'm not sure that I ever did. I was never worthy enough to be his son."

His words make your chest ache. You reach to gently touch his hand on the blanket.

"You are not an unworthy son," you assert, your feelings coming to the surface, "He was an unworthy father. I don't need to have met him to know that. Because I know you, and you are a good man. The most thoughtful, polite, decent man I've ever met."

He stares at you, emotion all over his face. A wistful look shines in his eyes.

"If only I had known you then," he reflects, "Perhaps I would not have gotten so lost in the tides of his storm."

"I wish I had known you too," you agree, more shyly than you'd expected, "But wouldn't have needed me. You already survived it, all on your own. You're stronger than he ever was."

His expression steels.

"Y/N, there is something I must tell you," he says, his tone turning grave, "It will not be easy for you to hear it, but I can't go on without you knowing what I am. I cannot hide it any longer. You deserve to know the truth."

Your heart starts to race quicker than your thoughts at his startling declaration. "What do you mean?"

Without warning, he casts off his jacket and stands up.

"Orm, what are you talking about?"

"Perhaps, it would be better if I showed you," he says, reaching out his hand to you, "I want you to understand. No more secrets."

For just a moment, you look up into his pleading eyes. Then, as if it had even been a choice, you carefully set the rose aside and take his hand. He helps you to your feet and leads you down past the water's edge. The cool water on your feet sends a shiver up your spine. The foam is lapping at your ankles when he stops just in front of you.

"You see that marker?" he points ahead.

The breeze whips your hair into your sight as you fight to push it away. You have to squint to see the outline of the buoy, the red light on top twinkling faintly in the twilight.

"Yes," you hesitate.

"Keep your eye on it," he directs calmly.

With that one instruction, he retreats further into the water, stopping until it is well above his waist. You cross your arms against the chill of sea spray and wait worriedly. He looks up and down the beach, as if to make sure no one is watching. You are still alone. Before you can call out to him, he dives headlong into the waves.

What follows you can only describe as a thunder beneath the water. It looks as if a missile has been launched from where Orm stood, careening toward the marker. Mere seconds later, a blast like a whale spout shoots above the horizon, and the buoy rocks violently as it is landed upon by the figure that flew up out of the sea.

A gasp escapes from your agape mouth as you witness the silhouette wave at you, and proceed to dive back into the blue.

Three pounding heartbeats later, Orm immerges from the surf and walks toward you, slicking back his dripping hair. His tee shirt clings to his muscular form, and his soaked jeans don't seem to encumber him at all. You're frozen in the sand, staring at him with only one word on your parted lips.

"How..."

"There's no simple way to say it, but you must know. I am from the Kingdom of Atlantis," he confesses, struggling to hold your stare, "I am Prince Orm Marius, son of Queen Atlanna. Although I was once ruler, I made many mistakes during my time on the throne for which I was banished. My penance is served by my exile here on the surface. I deserve my fate, and I gladly uphold it, but it is not something I wanted to keep from you any longer. I'm sorry that I was not honest with you sooner, but I didn't think that I could trust any surface-dweller with my secret. I was...proven wrong."

"You're a real Atlantean?" you manage to get out.

"I am," he nods, apprehension still in his voice, "I was raised to hate the surface and its inhabitants, but much has changed. You, Y/N, have had no small part in that."

Despite your reeling head, it's slowly becoming clear what Orm is saying by this grand unveiling of his true identity. As you struggle to process it, however, your silence compels him to go on.

"If all of this is too much, I understand. It is my burden to bear, and you did not ask to be part of it."

"I-It's not that," you stammer as the shock starts to wear off. You step closer to him. "Not at all. It's just a lot to take in. I need a minute, that's all. I promise."

Hope lights up his eyes.

"Absolutely," he agrees eagerly, "I apologize, I know this reveal was sudden. Please ask any questions that you have. I will withhold nothing from you."

As you finally begin look at him instead of through him, only one question lodged in your throat.

"Why?" you ask through threatening tears, "Why did you tell me all this?"

You knew why, because it was the same reason you wanted to tell him all of your own secrets. The same reason you came back to this beach over and over. The same reason your heart skipped every time you saw his handsome face, and heard him speak your name. You just wanted to hear him say it. For any of this to work, you needed to hear it.

His anxious gaze softens as he weighs his answer.

"I meant every word of what I told you yesterday. When I'm with you, I see a future that I never thought I would deserve. You make me feel like I can be more than I've ever been. And for the first time in my life, I have felt true happiness," he says, finding the words along with his conviction, "I never thought I would belong anywhere but Atlantis, but now, I want to know more about this world and its many gifts. And most of all, I want you to be by my side to show it to me."

"I want that too," you respond, tears threatening.

He gently takes your hand in his. "Even after all that I've done, part of me hoped that I might find some kind of redemption here on the surface. I wasn't sure how, and then I met you," he says tearfully, searching your eyes, "Y/N, you gave me that hope. Your goodness, your charity, your beauty. This realm has much to offer, more than I ever dreamed, but you are what I love most about the surface. From that very first day we spoke, I knew that you were what I was meant to find here."

Your vision blurs as he reaches to gently stroke your cheek.

"All of that to say...I've fallen in love with you, Y/N."

A sob escapes your throat as you look into his eyes and see it.

"I fell for you too. From the first day," you nod, finding your own confidence, "Being Atlantean doesn't change that. I don't care about who you've been or what you've done. I want to be with you. I love you too, Orm."

His composure crumbles along with yours as you embrace. The distance between you vanishes as your lips meet in a desperate kiss. You rest your hands on his chest and melt into his touch. He sighs and deepens the kiss, pulling you close against him. You feel the coolness of this still-dripping clothes soak through to your skin as you become lost in the taste of salt and longing. When you're forced to come up for air, you're both beaming.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he smiles, caressing your face.

"Me too," you giggle, lacing your arms around his neck, "What did you think of your first surface-dweller kiss?"

"Not too bad. I think I'll have to try it again before I decide if I really like it," he smirks.

"Well, if you get me out of this frigid water, I'll see what I can do about that," you tease back.

"Now that I can do," he announces.

You shriek in surprise as he swiftly lifts you from the water and into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. He chuckles in amusement and carries you bridal style back toward the shore.

"Orm!" you protest, in an obviously half-hearted fashion.

"I have to admit, concealing my Atlantean strength has been considerably more difficult than I anticipated," he reveals, wincing a bit, "I intended to bring a bottle of wine tonight as well, but- the glass here is far weaker than what I'm accustomed to."

You laugh. "Well, it's the thought that counts."

"I'm glad you think so. Because I thought since I'm responsible for us missing the best part of the sunset, that perhaps we could lie under the stars instead?" he suggests, setting you down gently on your feet upon the blanket.

"I would love to," you say, looking up at him, "But aren't you freezing in those clothes?"

"I'm used to it," he shrugs, "I don't think I feel the cold the same as you."

"In that case," you say, pulling him closer into tender kiss, "What do you think about that?"

He grins.

"It was perfect, and I'm certain it will not be my last."

You no longer feel the chill as you cling to him, and he rests his forehead to yours. It didn't matter where the tides of life would take you next. As long as Orm was there to hold you in the waves, you would always be in your favorite place.

#orm marius x reader #orm x reader #ocean master x reader #orm imagine #aquaman and the lost kindgom #patrick wilson #aquaman imagine #orm fanfic #aquaman fanfic #my writing #strangers like me from tarzan is 100% orm-coded and i couldn't resist using it for the title #aquaman

[nikosama13]

His Little Assistant (Crocodile x Reader)

Description: Your boss, Crocodile, is feeling stressed and overworked. He’s been locked in his room all day doing paperwork. If only someone could help him out.. Maybe that person will be you. 

Side Notes: Hello my lovelies! So I'm currently sick- It’s probably my allergies, but like I've been out for a couple of days just sleeping and running to doctors. While I was napping I randomly thought this little fic up, sooo enjoy! (ಥ﹏ಥ)

(Probably spelling errors + My requests should be open)

☞ CW: Suggestive-ish + Very minor cursing 

Consider the following..?

Enjoy the read!

~~~

Crocodile looked up slowly from his desk. He was slumped over, his cigar burning out as a small groan left through his teeth. The poor man had been doing paperwork all day and still had more to complete, but he was overworked and burned out.

"Y/n..?" He called you, as you walked into his office. His voice held a slight touch of desperation and need as he said your name.

"Is it more paperwork?" Crocodile asked worriedly, hoping the answer would be anything other than a “yes”. He doesn't want to admit it, but he needs and craves emotional support.

“No, I brought you some coffee..” You thought it would be a good idea, considering that he looks half-dead, swimming within the piles of work. Crocodile visibly lets go of a breath he didn't realize he was holding. A little smile curled on his lips.

"Y/n, you know how to make a man happy." He said gratefully. You sent him a smile back. “After all, it’s my job as your assistant..”

"Indeed." Crocodile replied, accepting the cup of coffee. 

"You could make any man happy." He teased flirtatiously.

 This was the same Crocodile who was feared and intimidating. However, you know the better side of him. It was endearing, really.

After you set the coffee down on his desk and bowed, you walked out of the room with a small flush on your face.

Crocodile smirked as he watched you leave the room. Damn, he wished he could follow you out there. But, he can't. There were papers to be done. He sighed, and took a sip of his coffee.

Crocodile was once again buried in paperwork. His mind was trying to drown out the stress of it all, but he couldn't escape it completely. He was growing desperate and frustrated. All he needed was some kind of release of stress. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of any other solution other than you, his assistant.

"Y/n.." Crocodile called out, softly. He wanted you in the room with him. 

“I need you..” His voice had a tinge of desperation.

You walked over to his office and pushed open the heavy wooden doors.

“Yes..?”

"Could you stay in here with me for a bit?" Crocodile asked, hoping she would say yes.

 He didn't need to explain anything. The look on his face told the entire story. He just needed company and reassurance.

“Stressed?” You shot him a concerned look. "Understatement." Crocodile admitted, his voice laced with a hint of defeat. 

He was always so strong and confident. To see a side of him like you have right now is... Well, different. He wasn't proud of this, but he needed it.

“Why don’t you rest..?” You walked in further into the dimly lit room.

Crocodile gritted his teeth. Were you really gonna make him ask for it? You knew exactly what he needed and he didn't like being needy. However, he needed to be right now.

"I can't. I'm not done with my workload yet." He said, but he didn't make a move to continue. He just... sat there, stewing in his stress.

“So what do you want exactly..?” You smiled mischievously.

"I want... I need..." Crocodile trailed off. 

He wasn't really sure about what he wanted. Something to relieve his stress. He was desperate. So desperate he needed the one thing that made him the most vulnerable. He needed a little intimacy. A little connection.

"Just..." He slowly trailed off again, but he couldn't put into words what he really needed.

“I’m listening..” You waited patiently for his response. "Just..." Crocodile struggled to get the words out, which was rather amusing seeing how confident and prideful he was. 

"Just... C..could you.." He didn't want to finish the sentence. It made him feel so pathetic. It made him feel weak and vulnerable. But he needed it so badly.

Crocodile struggled to put into words what he wanted from you. He was so desperate he was losing his cool that he usually kept. He couldn't put into words what it was, he didn't want to admit it. But he was a desperate man right now. He needed his assistant's lips. You leaned over the desk, “A.. kiss?” A single nod was all he could do right now. The words were too damn hard. He just needed it. A kiss. Just one. That's all he was asking for. “Where..” You teased. Crocodile let out a frustrated groan. He was being teased. Now he wanted it more than anything. And this was all he could really ask for.

“You know exactly where..” Then you smirked and kissed his lips over the desk. Crocodile melted when his lips were connected with yours. The way your lips felt on his was all it took for his worries and stress to melt away. He enjoyed being vulnerable. The fact that he could trust you to comfort him like this was more relaxing than anything. His lips remained connected, wanting as much as he could get right now. (Greedy much-?) He would not move until she did. He would let you decide when it was time to pull away. Until then, it was just him and you. That’s when you pulled on his tie, deeping whatever was going on in that moment.

 He didn't anticipate the action, but he sure as heck enjoyed it. Not only was this comforting and relaxing, but now it felt sensual too. He could feel himself getting excited and wanting this to progress further. Still, he let you take the lead as he allowed his lips to remain connected, enjoying the moment.

You pulled away. “That's your limit for the night, dear.” you were trying to get as much power over him as possible. This was only because you knew that you could make him weak for you, and who wouldn’t want a Warlord protecting them. "Limit?" Crocodile asked, giving you a playful smirk. 

Your teasing had gotten him riled up. You would sure as hell pay for it later.. ~~~ The End! …maybe not ;)

Thank you so so much for reading!

Consider following..?

#one piece #anime #straw hat pirates #strawhats #one piece strawhats #cute #follow4follow #short story #fanfic #fluff? #crocodile one piece #crocodile x reader #crocodile op #crocodile x you #sir crocodile

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Hi DJ! If you’re still doing the ficlet requests, can I get 24 (cuddles of reassurance) with Wolffe? Maybe fem!reader is having a hard time with sex and feels embarrassed/overwhelmed? (If that’s too explicit/uncomy feel free to ignore :))

Just a Little Bit More

A/N: Thank you so much for this request, Alli! I’ve actually been wanting to write a fic like this for a while. I feel like so much of the smut we see in fanfiction AND in published fiction/media in general is so idealized that even when it has elements of realism, it can present a distorted idea of what sex and intimacy can really be like. I’m certainly guilty of writing somewhat idealized smut, though I do try to maintain at least some semblance of realism (unless Sev is involved; all bets are off with that man). While there’s nothing wrong with having that fantasy, I think it’s healthy and important to also show the reality that it isn’t always easy or flawless, even with a caring, experienced partner who takes our pleasure seriously and does everything “right.”

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Reader (Fem; has hair)

Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI)

Wordcount: 3.3K of straight smut with some cuddles

Warnings and tags: cuddles; hurt comfort; language; SMUT; oral sex; PIV; nipple play; light/playful spanking; body worship; sex toys; fingering; exhibitionism; voyeurism; creampie; difficulty with orgasm. AKA, the return of SMUTKEA.

Summary: Wolffe is the best you’ve ever had. That doesn’t mean it’s always perfect.

Suggested Listening: 

This fic smells like: Fruit de La Créativité by Grès (raspberry & leather)

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Wolffe gazed up into your eyes as you rolled your hips slowly, searching for the perfect angle. You knew you could find it: you’d done it before, countless times. His strong, warm hands glided up your thighs to your hips, pulling you closer, thrusting deeper, guiding you closer and closer to your pleasure. You could feel it building inside you, the tension gathering slowly.

Too slowly.

He smoothed one hand up your side, grazing along your rib cage until he cupped your breast, circling your nipple with his thumb. He knew exactly how much pressure you liked, and the way he touched you was perfect.

God, he’s so hot. Just focus on how hot he is.

Sweat glistened on your skin. The room hadn’t been this hot when he’d pulled you into bed, but after an hour and a half of vigorous activity, you were both slick with perspiration, saliva, arousal, and lube. He’d mapped your body with kisses, gliding his lips and tongue across your skin as he devoured you, bringing you right to the edge until you begged him to fuck you. 

You’d wrapped your legs around his waist as he eased into you, a tormented groan rumbling from his lips as he felt your heat envelope him. Gods, he felt amazing, and when he started to move, you knew it would only be a matter of minutes before you came. 

It took longer than you expected, and after a while, you realized something needed to change. 

“Take me from behind,” you’d murmured, knowing how much he loved the way your ass pressed into his hips in that position.

“God, yes,” he’d replied, pulling out and rolling you over with enthusiasm.

You loved the way he handled you in bed. He was so fucking strong. He could toss you around so easily—it was hot as hell, but the best thing about it was the care he took to make sure you were comfortable and he didn’t accidentally hurt you. He lifted your hips up and positioned you exactly the way he wanted you. You heard a small click as he closed the bottle of lube, and then you felt his slickened fingers glide over your cunt as he ensured you were ready to take him from the new angle.

“Maker, that ass is gorgeous,” he said, squeezing your cheeks before giving you a playful smack. 

Your mischievous giggle turned into a breathless moan as he sank into you, reaching deeper, stretching you wider, as his hand slid down your body to tease your clit. You loved the way he touched you, the way he caged you in with his body, making you feel incredibly safe and protected. And of course, you loved his cock. He knew exactly how to use it to ensure he gave you as much pleasure as he took—or more.

And still, your orgasm remained tantalizingly just out of reach. He shifted, and for a moment, his body rested heavily on you before he resumed his rhythm.

He’s getting tired. Fuck. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up. I need to give him a break.

“Want me to be on top?” you offered, hoping that yet another angle would be the one that finally pushed you past whatever mental block was keeping you from your release.

He paused, his hands resting on your hips. “Is that what you want?”

“Sure,” you replied. “If you do?”

He trailed his fingers down your spine before slowly withdrawing from your body. You turned to watch as he rolled onto his back and kicked the blankets off the bed. He reached for you with that sexy smirk that you loved so much, and you knew without question that he still wanted you.

He’s such a good man. Gods, he deserves the world.

“Hop on, darlin’,” he invited.

You crawled toward him with a smile, pausing a moment to kneel between his thighs. You traced your fingertips up his legs and over his balls, then ghosted a line up the underside of his cock. You glanced up to see his eyes fixed on you with an intense expression. Holding his gaze, you dropped lower and flicked your tongue over his tip, then slid his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue over him. You could taste yourself on his skin—salty, tangy, unspeakably erotic. His hips flexed beneath you, and you heard his breath grow ragged.

He caressed your head gently, stroking his hand over your hair and jaw before coming to rest on your shoulders.

“Not gonna last if you keep that up,” he said quietly. “Come up here.”

You gave him one last defiant, flirtatious little suck before you released him, then you began to crawl up to him, kissing a trail up his abdomen and chest. You straddled his hips, kissing and licking your way up his throat, and as you reached his lips, you whispered, “You taste like pussy.”

“Then I must be delicious,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

His tongue slid into your mouth as his cock thrust into your cunt, and for a moment you were overwhelmed with the sensations of him filling you. A fresh wave of arousal had flooded you as you’d pleasured him with your mouth, and he slipped into you easily, rocking into you with his powerful thighs. You braced your fists against the mattress on either side of his head, pressing down to meet his thrusts as you rode him hard and fast, chasing your pleasure with a desperation that started to border on frantic as release continued to elude you.

“Gonna make you come so hard,” he whispered. “And then I’m gonna fill you up. You feel so goddamn good. Can’t wait to feel you come around my cock.”

I’m trying, damn it!

“You feel incredible,” you replied breathlessly, and it was true, so why was this so kriffing difficult?

Your hips were starting to get sore from how long you’d been at it, so you shifted positions, bringing your knees higher and setting a slower pace to try to buy yourself enough time that you’d have the energy to make it to the finish line. Wolffe adjusted instantly, not even needing a verbal cue to understand the message your body sent. You found the angle that pressed his cock against the perfect place inside you, and you focused on trying to get as much stimulation there as you possibly could, cutting out all extraneous movement.

The longer it took, the more anxious and desperate you became. You tried to shut down the voice in your head that whispered, “He’s getting bored,” because you knew it was a lie. All you had to do was look into his beautiful, mismatched eyes to see how much he wanted you. And you were so close. So fucking close, if you could just get out of your own head long enough to let go.

You traced your fingertips across his cheekbone and along his jaw, grazing your thumb across his lips. You pressed gently, parting his lips to brush your thumb against his tongue, and then you leaned down and kissed him deeply, trying to lose yourself in the sensation of his lips and tongue against your own.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as you broke from the kiss and returned your hand to brace against the mattress. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

Please stop talking. You couldn’t say it out loud; what kind of an asshole says something like that in response to a compliment?

“You’re so sexy,” you whispered instead. “You’re amazing at this.”

It was true; he was amazing. Unquestionably the best you’d ever had. In the time you’d been together, he’d learned your body completely, identifying every spot that made you shiver, testing different approaches until he knew exactly how and where you liked to be touched, kissed, caressed. He knew where to use his teeth, and where to use his breath; he knew when you wanted him to be tender, and when you craved roughness. 

He knew you.

He knew you better than anyone ever had, and that made your current predicament even more maddening. Because sometimes it was easy. Sometimes you came so fast that your orgasm surprised both of you. But most of the time, it took more work. A lot more. And sometimes, like this one, you would get so close to the edge that you were only seconds away, only to feel the wave of pleasure ebb and be replaced with frustration and exhaustion.

Please, please, please. Just a little bit more.

Your wrists ached. Your knuckles were raw from grinding them into the sheets. You shifted your weight and lifted one hand off the mattress, stretching your fingers and trying to get the blood flowing to them. He glanced at your hand, then back up into your eyes.

“What can I do?” he asked softly.

“Just… keep going,” you said desperately. “I’m so close—I’m so fucking close, and I just can’t—I can’t—”

Abrupt tears stung your eyes, and you buried your face against his neck to hide them, kissing his chest to try to distract him from your distress.

He wrapped his arms around your body, still rocking into you at the pace you’d set. “Do you want to take a break?”

“No, I want you to come,” you snapped, disappointment sharpening your tone more than you intended.

He stilled immediately. You felt his hand slide up your back to stroke your hair softly.

“Hey,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Look at me.”

You shook your head and burrowed your face obstinately into the nook where his neck met his shoulder.

“Talk to me, little one,” he urged. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

The dam cracked and then burst. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” you sobbed. “And I can tell you’re getting tired, and I just want it to be good for you, and every time I think I’m getting there, I lose it!”

Mortification swept through you that you were making a scene during such an intimate moment, and you tried to stifle your sobs, but it was too late. You felt him go soft inside you, and then he slipped from your body.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to ruin it for you.”

His arms tightened around you, and he rolled the both of you onto your sides, pulling you close against his body. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

Holding you tightly with one arm, he began to run his hand lightly over your back, comforting you with his touch as he kissed your forehead.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he repeated. “You just got tired. It’s all right, love. It happens.”

“It’s so frustrating,” you confessed. “So many times, I thought I was there, and then something would distract me, and it was just gone.”

“Was it something I did?” he asked.

“No, of course not. It was just… I don’t know. A noise? Or a weird thought that popped into my head at a bad time?” You paused, feeling a little guilty as you remembered that, in fact, you had gotten annoyed at an ill-timed remark from him. “And then the longer it took, the more it stressed me out about how long it was taking, until I was stressing so much about it that that’s all I could think about.”

He moved his hand to your shoulder and began to glide it up and down your arm in long, languid strokes. “Why were you worried about taking too long?”

You paused, unaccountably hesitant to admit the truth. He waited patiently, still caressing your arm, until at last you replied, “I was worried you were getting tired. Or bored. Or—I don’t know…”

His hand stilled in its progress, then slid around your back as he pulled you even closer to him. “I would never get bored with you.”

“But—”

“I love you,” he cut you off firmly. “I love being with you. I love fuckin’ you. You’re gorgeous, and sexy, and kriffin’ amazing in the sack. Do you have any idea how lucky I am? Most men only dream of finding a girl like you, but I got you for real. How the hell would I ever be stupid enough to get bored with someone as goddamn perfect as you?”

You didn’t know what to say. You lay in his arms, clinging tightly to him as the tears finally stopped trickling from your eyes. You shuddered quietly.

“Yeah?” you asked in a tiny whisper.

He rolled you onto your back and moved to lie on top of you so he could look into your eyes.

“Yeah,” he replied.

You swallowed. “I love you, too, you know.”

“I know,” he said with a charming smirk.

He pressed his lips to your sternum as his hand slid lazily up your body to play with your breast. The weight of his body pressed you down into the soft mattress as you cradled his chest between your thighs. You took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, releasing the guilt and stress and self-recrimination you’d built up in your body.

He kissed you again, and again, then he began to work his way across your chest until he drew your nipple into his mouth, brushing his tongue over your skin as he sucked gently, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You felt a spark of renewed arousal, but with it came a surge of anxiety that rose insistently in your mind.

“Wolffe,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I can. I really am exhausted.”

He looked up at you as he continued to tease your breast. At last, he released your nipple from his lips, giving you a devilish smile.

“What if we tried something else?”

You couldn’t help the way your lips curved into an answering smile when he looked at you like that. “What did you have in mind?”

He pushed himself up off of you and leaned over to rummage through your nightstand until he retrieved a vibrator—the one you’d once jokingly called “Old Faithful” for its uncanny ability to get you off like clockwork.

“I want you to fuck yourself with this,” he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly pitch. “I want to watch you make yourself come.”

Your breath stuttered to a halt, your eyes widening and your heart beginning to pound at the idea. Your gaze flicked from the toy to his eyes and back again.

“Wh—what about you?” you stammered.

“Don’t you worry about me,” he replied. He switched on the vibrator and traced it down your abdomen, making you twitch as its buzz tickled your skin. “Will you?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, taking the toy from him. “How do you want me?”

“Whatever way works best for you.”

You thought about trying to pose for him, to put on a show, but you knew instinctively that wasn’t what he was after. If he’d wanted to watch a counterfeit, staged orgasm, he would have just found a holoporn. No. He wanted the real thing. He wanted to see your genuine pleasure.

“All right,” you whispered.

You took the toy from him, and he moved off of your body to lie next to you, observing you closely. You adjusted the settings to your preferred speed and pattern, then took a deep breath and began.

The instant you touched the vibrator to your clit, your entire body tensed, and you gasped quietly. You glanced at Wolffe and found his gaze riveted to your pussy, his one good pupil dilated so wide you could barely see the amber ring of his iris around its inky depths. You felt a little self-conscious until you saw the way his lips parted slightly as his breath became heavy. 

You pushed yourself back into the pillow and closed your eyes as you adjusted the angle of the toy, pressing it exactly as you needed it. With your free hand, you began to play with your breast, caressing and squeezing and rolling your nipple between your fingertips. You felt the warmth of his hand as it settled onto your leg and then slid up your thigh. Your opposite leg curled up to brace your foot against the bed, opening your stance wider as you moved the vibrator exactly the way you needed it.

“Fuck,” he rasped hoarsely, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. His fingers grazed lightly over your pussy, but quickly withdrew.

“You can touch me,” you gasped.

He didn’t move immediately, and you continued to work yourself closer and closer to your orgasm, feeling the tension gather in your body and begin to tighten in on your center. Then his fingertips brushed over your cunt again, and you felt his lips and tongue descend on your hip. He didn’t try to take control, just touched you softly, kissing and licking and watching as you played with yourself. 

You adjusted your position again, bringing your leg against his body, and you felt his slick, rigid cock press hard against you. You whimpered, so turned on you couldn’t even form words, and in response, he ground his erection against you. He kissed across your pelvis until he reached your belly, pressing his face into you.

“I’m so close,” you panted.

“Kriff, me too,” he growled.

His fingertip grazed into you, and your body jerked as you gasped sharply. He froze, and without thinking, you moved your hand away from your breast to grab his wrist and push him deeper. With an urgent grunt, he began to move his finger, stroking exactly where he knew you needed him.

Abruptly, your hips arched off the bed, and you let out an inhuman wail. If your brain had been functioning, you might have also heard Wolffe’s rough groan, but at the moment, you were aware of nothing but blinding, shattering pleasure as your body finally found the release it had been denied for so many hours. You jerked the vibrator away as the intensity suddenly became too much, and your body convulsed again and again until at last you collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent.

Wolffe covered you with frantic kisses, crawling up your body until he reached your face. His body hovered over you as his tongue brushed between your lips and flooded your mouth with his taste. Your arms wrapped around his torso as your legs tightened around his hips, and you pulled him into you. His cock slid easily, and he thrust hard and fast, fucking you through the last tremors of your orgasm.

He came within seconds, flooding you with heat as he thrust hard, one last time, burying his cock as deep as he could inside your body. He stayed there, his entire body taut, until at last he exhaled a hard breath and relaxed onto you. His lips broke away from yours, and he rested his forehead against the pillow next to your head.

“Fuck,” he panted, the word hot against your ear. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You stroked your hands up and down his back, digging your nails lightly into his skin. He groaned and slumped heavily against your body. You loved the weight of him on top of you, but before long, you began to wheeze quietly as you struggled to draw breath. He heard the shift and immediately rolled off of you, pulling you against himself as he came to rest on the bed.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you pressed your lips to his chest.

He laughed quietly. “Thank you. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” 

“Worth the wait?” you asked.

“Worth everything,” he murmured, drawing you even closer. “Everything, and more. You always have been.”

 ---

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[soshadysoquiet]

TUA fanfic WIP: Sibling Beach Trip

I've recently devoured @assaily 's WIP posts and you know what, why hoard all of my WIPs when I may never finish them and people might enjoy them?

Having said that this isn't a snippet so much as it's a 2 thirds done fic that I've lost inspiration for the ending for so grab yourself a drink and enjoy!

Working Title: Beach No Beach. Love a working title

Length: 6k. Self control? Who is she?

Premise: Post apocalypse a family beach trip is proposed. Five has his reservations and is finding real life hard to adjust to, but he'll go if that's the Sibling Movement of the week. This is basically a slice of life fic that I'm pretty sure was going to build to Diego needing to save Five from drowning at the beach, because of course it was, but I think the rest of this has enough low-level angst and family moments to be entertaining on it's own.

Warnings: This fic discusses body dysmorphia in small detail and has underage drinking from Five.

It was embarrassing. More than embarrassing, really.

Shameful.

But Five couldn’t swim.

They’d had what constituted as ‘lessons’ when they were kids, apparently. Five had very limited memories of life before the Apocalypse, and often they seemed more surreal than anything.

‘We did?’ He asked blankly, barely looking over his morning cup of coffee to Viktor and Klaus.

‘All the time bro!’ Klaus replied breathily, laughing, eyes just a little wide in the thrill of memory, or possibly at Five not remembering something. ‘You don’t remember the pool? I’m pretty sure Dad blocked off the door after we started sneaking down there to play.’

‘I remember.’ Viktor nodded along, smile curling his lips so that his face lit up. ‘That’s how we found about Diego-‘

‘And his creepy fish power!’ Klaus looked ready to implode with hysteria and even Viktor bent to the table with a snort before looking between them.

‘You really don’t remember that?’

‘Diego isn’t a fish…’ He spoke slowly. He was talking to children after all. Or maybe he was hallucinating again. It happened. Hiding his grimace, Five took a sip.

‘Yeah! Yeah he can really hold his breath, come on you have to remember that, we teased him for weeks!’

‘Yeah that was kinda mean of us.’ Viktor grimaced a little into his own coffee. Probably for no reason, Viktor at that age wouldn’t have said Boo to a goose.

Hold his breath? It almost was a memory. Someone laughing, Diego pouting, then throwing a fit.

‘I think I’d remember us finding out about that.’

‘Maybe you blocked it out, it was pretty horrible at the time.’ The tone shifted after Viktor’s words.

‘Why doesn’t that surprise me.’

‘What doesn’t surprise you?’ Diego.

‘Speak of the devil!’ Klaus chorused, Five flinched a little at Diego’s hand falling briefly onto his shoulder as he passed. But it was barely noticeable now, he’d almost got a hang on it. ‘We were reminiscing about the time Dear old Dad decided to test out our underwater endurance.’

‘You mean when he held us all under the water until you all near passed out and I beat all your asses.’

‘Definitely would have remembered that one.’ Five murmured, covering up the chill skipping over his flesh.

‘Technically you didn’t beat my ass, since I wasn’t included in How to Drown Your Kids 101.’ Viktor replied with a darkly amused smirk and the sort of steel satisfaction that only true trauma inspired.

‘Well I’d have beaten you too.’ Diego retorted, confident as he went about fetching some ungodly looking juice concoction from the fridge.

How many different fruits went into just that, how many vegetables? The math wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worth the pang of mixed dread and desire it inspired in him.

‘And then we all called you, ah, well, never mind eh?’ Diego’s glare had silenced Klaus.

‘For the record, we’re sorry.’ Viktor offered, voice so gentle and meaning.

‘I’ve got nothing to be sorry for.’ Five retorted. He wasn’t there after all, and he was above childish name calling. He had found more creative insults.

‘Well you got off the hook easily anyway, you weren’t even there.’ Diego chimed in, but did take the time to nod to Viktor in a passing sense of camaraderie. He sat heavily at the table and looked at them all as he took a drink. ‘What brought this on anyway?’

‘We’re trying to convince little Fivey-‘

‘Older than you!’ His insistence was soundly ignored.

‘To come to the beach with us all at the weekend.’ Diego hastily swallowed the mouthful of his juice. What could all those ingredients even taste like together? Five shook his head at the sight.

‘Hell yeah you should come! You don’t get out enough.’

‘I get out plenty.’

‘To the library maybe.’ Klaus mumbled, twiddling with the buttons undone on his shirt.

‘Come on Five, it would be fun!’

‘Would it really?’ He sighed, wished he’d just blinked back up to his room with the coffee.

‘Its the beach bro.’ Diego’s voice was so deadpan that Five managed to feel insulted.

‘There isn’t even anything there! It’s all dead anyway!’ One of his hands gestured with the coffee cup for effect as he complained but the others were staring at him and, oh, right. Nervously he cleared his throat. ’I mean-‘

‘No, no what is it?’ Klaus was too gentle. They’d started doing this recently, paying attention to him rather than responding with their own drama and pushing what he said aside. Five didn’t know what to do with it. And it only took a few rapid equations to work out the cheapest way out of this situation.

‘Fine I’ll go. But don’t expect me to enjoy it.’ He blinked away. But not far.

Paranoid.

‘Alright alright.’ Five muttered quietly at Dolores’ imagined critique from where he sat in the pantry, listening.

‘Well, that was surprisingly easy, only took ten minutes.’ Klaus sounded both pleased and a little disappointed. Had he not wanted Five to come after all, or had he just wanted to do more wheedling?

‘What do you think he meant by it being dead?’ Viktor asked, voice contemplative and too damn observant.

‘I swear to God Klaus, if you making him go to the beach causes another apocalypse-‘

Diego and Klaus devolved into childish squabbles and Five blinked out of the pantry.

The beach huh. He hadn’t seen it in decades. He’d only been the once. If they’d ever done any missions by the sea as children Five certainly didn’t remember it.

It could be nice this time.

‘We can’t swim Dolores.’ In the emptiness of his room, the reminder drifted lifeless. He’d learned that one the hard way. ‘And only you can float.’

-

A weekend beach trip sounded like hell to Five but apparently he was one of the few. Yet it was interesting that the closer they got to the date the more cracks appeared in the others’ armour.

Diego would boast about his abilities, but when Luther had guffawed ‘oh my god! Fish-Boy!’ Their knife-wielding vigilante had begun to stammer on and off when they talked about the ocean. Allison had bitched at Luther down the phone for it, as had Klaus in person. Five had been listening in on parts of the phone call.

Because he liked to hear their voices, not because he was paranoid, Dolores!

But it wasn’t just Diego.

Allison had sounded hesitant, and wanted to bring Claire, but remained nervous about mixing Claire with their family. Five usually made himself scarce on the rare occasions that Allison brought Claire around. It had only been twice, but no matter how much he wanted to meet her, Five didn’t have anything to fall back on when interacting with people outside his siblings. Unless they were a threat, or it was for less than two minutes.

Three minutes fifteen had been his record, at the library where he went to practice. And after that he’d had to go hide in the bathroom stall and have a minor panic attack.

With people that mattered it was harder. Because there was only so long Five could talk to someone who mattered before he fucked it up. He’d only been able to say ‘Hi, nice to meet you’ to Claire before becoming overwhelmed by her childlike open-stare and making an excuse to run away. But he wasn’t the only reason for Allison’s hesitance.

Five thought she was worried about the crazy rubbing off.

During last month’s visit Klaus had told Claire the story of Dead Uncle Ben after she’d caught Klaus talking to what looked like thin air. Five had overheard on the phone call the week after how Claire had begun ‘talking to Dead Uncle Ben’ at school. For a custody battle situation, it was understandably a nightmare.

Diego always had knives on him, and children had sticky fingers. Claire kept trying to pull them out from Diego’s pockets and holsters and fingers. It wasn’t as if Diego encouraged or approved of it, but he had offered to teach her before he’d caught Allison’s look. And even at the beach Diego would probably be packing at least three knives. Probably more.

Luther had been fine at first, and was Claire’s favourite uncle. But then  the Holy Trinity of Stupid; hitherto named Klaus, Luther and Diego, had loudly reminisced about the all the times Luther had accidentally injured them during training when they were kids. Even Five had joined in; Luther  smacking him hard enough into the wall after a mis-timed jump and cracking his arm during combat training were ironically some of his clearer memories. Allison trusted Luther with Claire’s life, but she had looked a little green around the gills as they all laughed about it.

Viktor hadn’t done anything to directly inspire worry, but Allison had told Luther she was worried about Claire finding out what she’d done to her sibling when they were children. Five had stopped listening to the phone call once Allison started crying, feeling more than a little guilty about his eavesdropping.

So, Allison was apprehensive about Family Fun-Time at the Beach because it involved Family Fun-Time. Otherwise known as ill-facilitated chaos.

Klaus worried about taking Ben to the ocean and Ben being sad about only being able to be so-corporeal in the ocean. A guilt Five felt Klaus didn’t need to put on himself, given that without him there would be no beach for Ben. But he’d been told he had a rather unsympathetic view on things and asked to leave. It didn’t help that Ben was apparently desperate to go to the ocean and also sad about it, apparently.

Or so Five could tell from what he’d heard when he stood nearby Klaus’ room at night, or followed him at night down the street, or when he was hiding in the pantry eating fluffed-nutter sandwiches and just listening to his siblings being alive.

-

Friday lunchtime and Five thought that most of the pre-beach drama had probably run its course, that said nothing for what would blow up when they were actually there in typical Hargreeves-style. And he counted the journey to and from as a separate nightmarish entity altogether, but at least this time he was one of the cats to be herded, not the one doing the herding. Small mercies.

They were just lucky that Lila had decided not to come. Apparently their powers ‘gave her a headache’ whilst she was pregnant. Five had gone to visit her out of boredom and sibling duty, and swore to report back on the idiocy for her, and had somehow gotten roped into shopping.

‘Just zap us all there, I want to feel alive again.’

‘You could do it yourself.’ He pointed out, and she groaned and grabbed his hand. They did that a lot, held hands. Five had actually come to enjoy the brusque contact with his most violent sister. There remained a certain comfort in the knowledge he was holding the hand of another killer.

‘Don’t be a prick.’ She groaned. He waited, brow raised. ‘Look you’re more practiced than me alright! I don’t want to jump there and find out little Lila Junior is all over the floor somewhere else!’

‘Okay that’s disgusting.’ He’d blinked them just to stop the conversation, but not so quick that he hadn’t seen her wicked grin at his pain.

And, of course, after jumping that far, he didn’t have the juice to escape.

‘Do you even own anything that isn’t some god-awful dark academia bullshit?’

‘Rich coming from a punk.’

‘You’re going to the beach not a banquet-‘ They’d snapped and bitten at each other whilst grinning through their shark teeth and Lila had forced him to buy a pair of truly heinous swimming trunks about the length of the Academy shorts he’d used to wear. At least until Allison had dragged him out shopping again.

‘You wore that nice suit in the Sparrow timeline, you do not need to go back to looking like a prep-school kid.’

At least Allison had taste.

And secretly, Five had been glad that someone had made him do it. Old routines were the hardest to break for him when they seemed so ultimately unimportant.

‘Sunglasses!’ Lila belted out, breaking his musings and dragged him roughly over to a stand. She’d fussed over trying on shades and insisting on him doing the same and Five had allowed himself to pick out a pair he actually quite liked.

They suit you better than those goggles. Five huffed a smile at that. Dolores always had deplored his apocalyptic wardrobe.

‘I just, I want to be out there, but I’m not sure I’m ready to be out there.’ Five’s head popped up over the sunglasses stand.

‘Viktor? Luthor?’

‘Five!’

‘Lila?’

‘There’s the boys! No Klaus?’

‘He was, um, what are you doing here?’ Luther stumbled the words, other than Klaus and Five, the siblings were still somewhat awkward around Diego’s partner. Lila didn’t let it show, but Five thought the distance there bothered her. Five certainly wasn’t the one to know what to do about it. Klaus had told him he ‘imprinted’, like a duckling, and that had been enough ‘friendship’ talk to last another lifetime.

And he got embarrassed enough by Diego’s obvious happiness at him taking the time to include Lila.

Five held up the shorts he was being frog-marched into buying.

Not that there was a point, because he wouldn’t be stepping foot in the ocean ever again.

‘Apparently this is required dress code.’

‘Oh, same.’ Luther grinned a bit, before his face fell. Viktor, who’d been the one talking earlier, looked a little sullen.

‘No offence, but me and my spawn are going to walk away from all this.’ Lila gestured and excited stage left back towards the child section where, embarrassingly, Five had just come from to get the shorts in his hand. She had meant that their powers were bothering her, a weird pregnancy side-effect, but the pair of them looked a little slapped in the face.

‘What’s up with you two?’ Five asked, coming around the sunglasses stand to eye them up and down better. ‘Was it Diego? It’s usually Diego.’

‘What? No.’ Luther insisted. Viktor cleared his throat.

‘It’s just,’ Viktor paused for a breath and looked to Luther, who nodded encouragingly. ‘It’s hard to, cross some hurdles, with the dysmorphia.’

‘It’ll get easier, or I hope it will.’ Luther’s half-encouragement was half-hearted but well meaning, and Viktor offered him a small sad smile. Five just frowned at them.

‘Dysmorphia?’ He rolled the word around, squinting. ‘The medical condition?’ He frowned harder. In a sense, Luther’s ape-like physicality could be called that. But Sloane had gone a long way to helping with that. But she wasn’t fully welcomed into the loving disaster that was his family yet, so she wouldn’t be at the beach. Maybe that was the problem.

He’d said the wrong thing, Luther was flushed in embarrassment and Viktor put a hand on his arm before cutting in.

‘No, well-‘

‘Sort of, in my case. Both I guess.’ Luther spoke over Viktor, seeming to pull in his confidence with a truly remarkable strength. Strength of character that their father had always failed to measure. Much like Viktor’s patience.

‘Body dysmorphia. It’s when you might feel like the way your body looks isn’t how you think it should be. It’s how I felt, before. And somedays there’s another new hurdle to cross.’

‘It’s not comfortable, the idea of being on show like that.’ They managed their words with aplomb, but Five was somewhere between them and himself.

Maybe that was selfish, but he found himself looking at his own hands as they spoke, jaw a little slack.

Dysmorphia.

‘Oh.’ He didn’t have many more words for them, but the silence suggested he should, so he pulled away from himself and looked to them again. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

Taken aback a little by the blunt question, they looked at each other. Viktor found his voice first.

‘We were debating between making a ’t-shirts are ok’ pact or a-‘

‘’Skin or nothing’ oath.’ Luther finished. Five didn’t think he had the skill set to say the right thing.

You do. Dolores insisted softly. You’re kinder than you think.

‘Well, let me know what you decide.’ He offered, hoping he was somewhere on the track to wiping the misery off their faces. Three apocalypses and it’s still the human condition bringing us all down. ‘I’ll join you.’ Decidedly he nodded, and turned to make sure Lila wasn’t getting caught shoplifting. Honestly her skills needed some improvement. Although she would probably say the same about him.

Viktor and Luther’s seaside-problems Five could understand maybe a bit better on a personal level than those afflicting the rest of his family, because there was a certain degree of dysmorphia to all their bodily situations that didn’t bother dwelling on but couldn’t not be dwelt on at the beach. It wasn’t like he enjoyed looking at himself in the mirror, so on some level he got it.

He’d bring a t-shirt in case.

-

Despite their united worry, and Five’s pessimism, the Hargreeves family all descended on the mansion Friday evening for their trip to the beach the following day.

Five nearly blinked to the roof when Claire ran up and hugged him, standing with his fists clenched throughout and then vanishing behind the bar. As in hidden behind the bar. He had long ago sworn to Allison that he wouldn’t drink in front of Claire. They could at least both agree that she was a child.

Luther and surprisingly Viktor got drunk on the other side of the bar and Klaus merrily joined in.

Lila dropped Diego off to stay overnight since they had an early start come the morning, and Five contemplated blinking into their car to escape whilst Diego shouted at her to not do anything criminal while he was gone.

Allison escaped to smoke twice in between fretting about which sibling to entrust Claire to in the meantime, and quickly decided to just put Claire to bed instead.

Five listened to it all hidden behind the bar. Klaus knew he was there, he kept passing his glass down for Five to refill. Five left a shot out for Ben as well, because it felt polite, Even if apparently Ben disapproved of alcohol.

All too soon, they were turning in for the night in dribs and drabs.

Five hung on until the end. Surprisingly with Luther and Viktor.

‘Ahem.’ Luther cleared his throat and knocked a little sloppily on the bar top as they were turning to go. Five had been humming ‘Dream a little Dream of me’ for Dolores for the last few minutes and hiccupped himself to a stop. ‘For tomorrow, no shirts.’

‘No shirts!’ Viktor chorused loudly and very, very drunk, toppling a little from the sounds of it.

‘No shirts!’ Luther joined in and the pair stumbled up for the night.

‘No shirts.’ He toasted to the air, took his last swig and went to pick up Dolores-

But she wasn’t there. The shop had thrown her away.

In a flash the martini glass he’d been drinking from smashed against the bar where he’d thrown it.

You’re gonna have to clean that up now.

‘I know, I know.’

He ignored the catch in his voice as he moved to do just that, craving to hold her and getting glass shards instead.

—

‘Get up Five! Christ, there’s always one.’

‘And it’s usually him, or you. Actually it's usually you.’

‘Shut up and help me! Oh wait you can’t.’

‘Wow, low blow.’

‘Oh I can go lower-‘

‘Shut up.’ Five smacked his pillow at Klaus like a true teenager and glowered. His hair was ruffled and he smelt like a bar.

‘You look like some nasty little cat I found on the sidewalk and just want to put in a blanket,’ Klaus half-crooned, half sneered, grabbing his grumbling gremlin of a brother. ‘Now come on, get up and showered or Allison will have our asses.’

‘Have our asses!’ All three of them turned with slightly horrified gazes to see Claire standing in the door giggling, fingers pressed over her mouth and looking like she knew exactly what she was doing. The little tyrant. With a final giggle she turned and ran. ‘Mooooooom!’

‘No no no no no!’ Klaus abandoned Five to his fate and sprinted off after his favourite little terror of a niece. If she made it to Allison, they were all doomed.

She made it Allison.

Five managed to get himself somewhat presentable, down the stairs and into clothes. In fact they all did, more or les on time, it was a Hargreeves miracle.

‘Loving the shorts buddy. You needed more colour in your wardrobe.’

‘Keep talking and I’ll sk-‘ Five stopped himself, Ben snorted uncharitably behind Klaus’ shoulder as Claire looked eerily around at them, eyes wide and guileless. Klaus cleared his throat whilst Five’s brain seemed to re-wire itself, clutching his coffee for dear life and eyes shielded by shades. ‘Skkkunk you.’

‘Skunk you.’ Claire mouthed, hand benignly in Allison’s, eyes bright with hell-fire.

‘Skunk me?’ Klaus turned to Five again, disbelief and laughter battling for dominance in his chest. ‘That’s the best you could do?’

‘Keep talking, and you’ll find out.’ Five’s coffee got grumbled into and Ben guffawed behind them.

‘You’re both idiots.’

‘Shut up Ben!’

‘Dead Uncle Ben’s here?!’ Klaus shrivelled under the weight of Allison’s incredulous raised brows turning to him with the sweet promise of death as Ben ‘awwed’ behind him.

-

Allison had already had to put up with Claire having a tantrum about not being able to talk to Uncle Ben, and had thrown her hands in the air when  Klaus had said Ben also wanted to talk to Claire.

‘Sure, why not! Let’s just wheel her right into therapy rather than window-shopping it!’ She had stormed to the back of the bus and sat next to Five, because he was currently the quietest and she saw the least of him.

Ben’s blue conjured form absolutely enchanted Claire, and her eyes swelled so large and happy and un-affected by rumour as she looked gleefully between Dead Uncle Ben and her Mom that it made Allison’s heart lighter.

Watching Ben form into what existence Klaus could give him was always a delight, if a bittersweet one, and Allison found herself relaxing a bit at watching the joint joy on her child and brother’s faces.

They had taken the bus to the beach, changed three times and by the time the ocean breeze was coming salty and refreshing through the window Allison’s hungover siblings had drunk enough coffee, water and juice to grace the land of the living. Viktor and Luther had woken from their nap enough to tease Diego about his upcoming life of parenthood. She’d berate them, or join them, but honestly they were just the warm up act for the terror Allison herself could inspire if she told Diego the truth of parenting. But she didn’t quite want to do that.

Something in her knew the horrors too well to joke about them right now, the emotions always too present. And some dark voice inside her said that she didn’t get to lord it over anyone. Not with the mess she’d made the first time round.

And probably was making, letting her kid talk to her ghost Uncle.

‘It’ll be fine.’ Allison jolted a bit, and glanced down at Five, slumped still somewhat bonelessly, dressed in a plain top and tropical beach shorts that were almost the same shade of yellow as Allison’s own bikini under her wrap dress. Five was alert enough to be verbal, which was good, but not quite enough to move further down the bus and put up with their family’s particular brand of unending bullshit.

‘What will?’ She asked, bewildered. ‘This family trip? I’m pretty sure its’ already gone way better than it should, which means we’re due for a tsunami at least.’ He snickered at that and she smiled at the rarely heard sound.

‘Well I won’t disagree, but I meant Claire with Ben. If anyone can talk sense to her, it’s the one who usually holds the brain cell.’

And Five was somewhat right. Despite the way he very awkwardly coughed and looked through his fringe out the window when Claire came to sit between them.

‘Mom, I’m sorry about pretending to see Dead Uncle, I mean, Uncle Ben at school. I know it’s a Serious Topic now.’ She nodded solemnly, and Allison felt her face crease up in adoration at the attemptive-adult look on her daughter’s angelic face. And the apology that she wasn’t sure she deserved, but couldn’t help melting over. ‘But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop talking about him because Uncle Ben and Death are important.’ And just like that, adoration turned to the sort of disbelief that only children could inspire. Five snorted.

‘Smart kid.’ He muttered, and Allison found her smile reforming.

‘Thank you Claire, and you’re right, those are important topics. We’ll have a talk about bluntness at, a much, much later date.’ Because there were only so many Serious Parenting Moments she could handle before 10 in the morning. She thought she had an easy out, but then Five was turning to Claire with a devilish look at Allison over his glasses and a truly awful smile. Her stomach dropped.

‘Whatever she says don’t listen to her, your Mom mastered bluntness at age Six.’

‘Six?!’

‘Six.’ Five nodded.

‘I think you should go talk to Uncle Ben while he’s here sweetie, Uncle Klaus can only keep him visible so long-‘

‘But I wanna talk to Uncle Five too!’

‘No you don’t-‘ Allison and Five flashed each other an awkward look at their matching words.

‘Hey Claire! Claire! Wanna see the octopus in Uncle Ben’s belly-‘

‘NO SHOWING HER THE HORROR!’ Allison shouted as Claire squealed and ran for a glaring Ben and shit-eating Klaus.

She didn’t have one child, she had a whole bus of them.

-

The beach spray in the air wasn’t like he’d thought it would be.

Five watched the unreal blue hue of the ocean, heard the waves crash rather than slosh thickly, felt sand rather than trash and rubble under his feet.

It was beautiful.

‘So, we doing this?’

‘We’re doing this.’ He glanced to Luther and Viktor. They’d set up their family’s base-camp on the beach, and Allison was over at the nearby changing huts getting Claire sorted. Diego had set them up under one of the available umbrellas and was lecturing Klaus on sunscreen. Because of course he was.

Red rays from the too-hot sunlight burnt through the distorted atmosphere, piercing dust-and-storm clouds, lighting the grey sloshing water in an eerie light.

‘Don’t you want to swim? I always wanted to swim.’

‘Hey Five!’ Sand hit him in the face. Five spluttered and spun around. No crap littering the golden sands. Just his family and the blue tide. Disguising his shaky breath, Five glared at Diego. ‘You too, sun cream, come on line up.’

‘Sun cream Nazi.’

‘Want me to spray it in your face Klaus?’ Klaus just groaned, turning around obediently as Diego sprayed an endless can of aerosol ‘factor 30’ onto his pale skin.

‘Might as well get it over with Five. He’ll have his way.’ Klaus pouted.

‘That I will, alright, you’re done, come back in three hours.’

‘Alright Mom.’ Klaus mocked with a grin and escaped away, donning his brimmed hat and heading to the ocean.

‘You’re up.’ Diego beckoned him over and Five shook his head snorting.

‘The sun’s not even radioactive at this point.’ Diego stared and then grabbed him.

‘You’re the most in danger, young skin is important to protect.’

‘Get off me!’ Five snatched the can and roughly sprayed over himself before throwing it back. ‘Happy?’

‘That’s not how you apply sunscreen bro.’

‘Its literally what you just did.’

‘No sunscreen, no sun.’ Diego stated with an impressive amount of finality and pointed at the towels under the parasol where Viktor and Luther were lurking. Beyond them, Allison was running after Claire to the water.

‘Fine by me.’ He wasn’t swimming anyway, and he’d had enough of the sun’s harsh rays. Diego seemed appeased, and headed to the ocean himself.

Five settled down and, seeing his remaining brothers had already removed their shirts, did the same. Solidarity and all.

Job done, he settled back, and watched the ocean.

It was even more mesmeric now than it had been back then, thick with ash and ruined life, but the largest amount of water he’d seen in months.

He hadn’t washed in months.

Is it even real? Dolores laughed at him

‘Of course it’s real.’ Walking there had been a dream, heart thudding, shedding clothes along the way haphazardly, stumbling over ruble and Dolores in his arms, in a dream till the water sloshed over his ankles.

The sensation had sent shivers up his spine.

‘Hey, you swimming?’ Viktor nudged him back into focus and Five looked around him, glad of the sunglasses hiding his eyes.

‘No.’

‘Really? But we’re at the beach, and it’s pretty empty, even Luther’s in.’ It took Five a moment to notice that yes, he was. Tossing Claire up in the air and into the water as she squealed in delight. Diego looked like he was doing some pretty serious swimming while Klaus and Allison lounged in the shallows.

‘You go, have fun. I’ll guard the camp. Wouldn’t want us loosing our clothes.’ He got a frown at that, but Five had lost his Academy uniform that day on the beach and with it the only reminder of home he had left, the only identity he had. Not to mention the only clothes he’d had.

Just because he’d wanted to feel water and hadn’t weighed them down.

‘Well, come over when you’re ready. You’ll like it.’ He grinned in lieu of answering and Viktor shrugged and went off, both him and Luther bare-skinned from the waist up and wearing it with growing confidence.

Smiling a little, Five folded his arms behind his head and stretched his toes into the sand. It burned a bit, but the feeling was unlike anything he’d felt before. He kept doing it over and over, finally sitting up and admitting that he wanted to touch it.

Five settled off the towel and felt the sand all over, shivering, digging his fingers into it.

Dry and hot on top, cool and heavier underneath if he dug down far enough.

Golden, soft.

His fingers found a shell and Five took a while staring at the delicate pattern, mesmerised. He looked for more.

‘What are you doing?’ Five had to get a better handle on being snuck up on. He looked around to see Claire staring at him, rocking on her feet.

‘Finding shells.’ He replied.

‘I’ll help!’ She lay down next to the hole he’d dug and reached her arms in to tease through the sand. ‘They’re pretty.’

‘Uh, sure.’ Seeing how deep Claire had to reach into the hole, Five looked around and winced. Half of their belongings were covered in sand and to match the hole was a large mountain he’d moved aside, digging straight down mindlessly.

‘Is this one good?’ Claire pulled out a long, thin shell, poking Five’s knee with it.

‘Its great.’ He took it and tried not to feel her eyes on him as he looked it over. ‘It’s a razor clam shell.’ He offered, turning it over in his fingers and admiring the barred pattern. He put it in the ‘clam’ pile.

‘Really? What’s this one.’

‘A snail.’

‘And this one?’ Five glanced over from where he’d reached for another speck of porcelain white buried in the sand.

‘A crab claw.’

‘Where’s the rest of the crab?’

‘Given that that’s it’s arm, I’m assuming that it’s dead.’

‘Like Uncle Ben.’

‘Like Uncle Ben. Although, I don’t know if crabs have ghosts that stick around, that’s really an ethical and philosophical debate on the presence of a soul and frankly it’s exhausting.’

‘Oh.’

‘Claire! There you are, don’t run off like that!’ Allison looked vaguely harassed as she hurried to them. ‘Oh, Five, thanks for looking after her.’

‘Don’t mention it.’ He replied, somewhat guilty where he had moved to sit in the hole he’d dug, and hadn’t even noticed Claire being ‘missing’ in the first place. He’d been too focused by the texture of sand and delicate shells.

‘What are you two doing?’ The frown and amused quirk to her mouth suggested that this wasn’t normal.

‘Uncle Five’s collecting shells.’ Incredulous eyes turned his way, Five scowled.

‘I can stop.’ He snapped out.

‘No, no Five, it’s okay. People collect shells at the beach.’ Her assurance was swift but gentle, genuine. Claire was looking at him wide-eyed.

‘Oh. Okay.’ He replied, somewhat derailed from defending himself.

Prickly. Five ignored Dolores’ fond chuckle.

‘Impressive hole Five.’ Luther came up behind Allison and Five hopped out enough to sit on the rim of his sand pit. Claire squealed on seeing him and reached up to be lifted, she kept hold of the crab claw.

‘What is that?’

‘It’s Uncle Five’s dead crab!’

‘Don’t touch things like that!’ Allison wrestled it from Claire  who pouted.

‘Uncle Five touched it!’

‘Well, he’s a heathen, not a lady.’ Five snorted, but didn’t deny it. ‘Let’s go wash your hands.’ Claire was led away with a plea of ‘but mooooooom’ and Luther took her place.

‘You’re not swimming?’

‘Apparently I’m collecting shells.’ Five gestured over to the neatly sorted collection he’d accumulated.

Dolores liked them.

‘I just thought you were digging a hole. Maybe we should make a sand castle.’

‘A what?’ Luther was already gathering the sand Five had piled up and grinned.

‘I’ll show you! I used to try and make miniature ones on the moon with the moon dust I collected, but we could make a really big one!’ The childlike enthusiasm was enough to stir Five’s eternal curiosity, he followed Luther out of his hole and felt the sun lap his skin as they began forming a ‘foundation’.

It was surprisingly enjoyable. Therapeutically technical.

It looks good.

It did, Five thought.

Give it a tower for me, like a princess would have.

‘It needs a tower.’

‘Good idea. And a flag.’

They built for a while before Diego came to join them and added himself in with a comment of ‘sick’. They stuck one of Diego’s knives in the top in place of a flag and Viktor and Klaus came by with a heaping assortment of lunch foods.

‘Feeding time at the zoo!’

Allison and Claire followed having been in the sea again, and Five got up and stretched from where he’d been hunched over. The water glittered in the sun.

Five thought he might like the beach.

‘Five, your back!’

‘What about it?’ Five looked at Diego askance but got pushed under the shade.

‘It’s coming up red already, I told you to stay in the shade.’

‘Such a parent in the making.’ Klaus teased. ‘What? I think it’s sweet, really!’ Ben, apparently, was getting involved.

‘I’m fine.’ Five protested, but was wrangled onto one of their sandy towels and he watched bemused as Diego wetted a t-shirt and draped it over Five’s shoulders. The coolness did feel good, he hadn’t realised how hot his skin had gotten. Sometimes it was hard to feel things.

‘After lunch, you’re putting sunscreen on.’ Diego warned with a raised finger and firm stare. ‘Now drink your water.’

‘You’re not the boss of me.’ But he wasn’t about to waste water, so he drunk what he was given and ate the hotdog passed his way and listened to their chatter. With the distraction of the sand gone, his thoughts ticked lazily back to the last ocean trip he’d had.

He’d been so hungry that time that he’d contemplated eating one of the rotting fish carcasses before deciding better.

-

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #tua fan fiction #tua fanfic #allison hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #ben hargreeves #family bonding #slice of life #wip

[the-oc-lass]

ECHO GIRLIES WHO WILL BE EMOTIONALLY TRAUMATIZED IF HE DIES NEXT WEEK (it's me I'm Echo Girlies) RISE UP

The past two episodes have me both very excited for Echo because he's been so cool while also being so fucking stressed because he's in a dangerous situation. Take my guy out of that situation please and thank you.

So, to calm my nerves, I handed him a baby. Echo and a Baby is now on Ao3.

Crosshair and a Baby

Wrecker and a Baby

Gregor and a Baby

It's been pointed out to me that it might be easier if instead of posting each clone as a different chapter, I just post them as separate fics, so please cast your vote and let me know your thoughts on this.

Full fic below the cut in case you don't wanna go to Ao3:

Echo has known Rayona Yothia since his ARC Trooper training. Outside of his brothers, she is the most important person to him. She’s his best friend, and he’s utterly devoted to her. He was honored when she named her son after him and was happy to—along with his brothers—help her raise the baby. He loves Ec, just like the rest of his brothers do. He’s also dubbed himself the best with Ec which, usually, is perfectly fine. However-

��Echo!” He’s in the middle of meeting with Rex and Rayona about a prison transport they want to go after when his name is practically screamed across the base. He sighs and lifts his head, watching as Howzer comes rushing into the room, holding Ec out like he’s a bomb ready to explode. Howzer is perfectly capable with children around Omega’s age because of his time on Ryloth, but he’s incredibly lost when it comes to Ec. And, as it turns out, full diapers. Rayona snorts behind Echo and he turns to give her an unamused look. When he raises an eyebrow at her, she simply leans slightly on the holotable and grins at him. 

“Oh, no, honey. He called for you,” she says. He knows that if he insisted, she’d chuckle good-naturedly and go change Ec’s diaper without complaint. Instead, though, he simply sighs and turns to look at Howzer. He crosses the room and takes Ec from the frazzled former captain’s hands, watching how he almost instantly relaxes. Echo looks down at his namesake, who giggles up at him, and sighs again. 

“Alright, let’s go.” 

Echo cleans the baby up with practiced ease, barely having to think about it as he moves. 

“You’re a little menace, you know that?” he says, looking Ec in the eyes. The child simply smiles at him, and Echo sighs and shakes his head. When the diaper has been changed, Echo lifts Ec into his arms, bouncing him slightly. Ec giggles and joyfully pats his hands against Echo’s chest. After a moment, the little boy yawns and Echo chuckles. “Tired, ad’ika?” Ec doesn’t reply, but instead yawns again and curls tiny hands against Echo’s armor. Echo smiles and adjusts Ec in his arms, then turns to walk him across the room to his small bassinet. Ec whines when Echo goes to put him down and Echo pauses, inspecting the child for a moment. Ec stares up at him with big eyes, almost like he’s pleading for something. After a moment, Echo smiles softly and sighs. “Alright.” He clears his throat slightly, then opens his mouth again. The song falls from his lips with ease, bringing him back to a simpler time. This song is in a language he barely knows, learned from a woman whom he fought beside in battle during the war. He heard her sing it to her daughters often. He misses her. Misses all of them, really. But he can remember her with the lullaby that he learned from her, by singing it to this precious child. Ec makes a soft noise, curling into Echo’s chest. By the time the song is done, Ec is breathing steadily against Echo’s chest, fast asleep. Echo plants a kiss on the tuft of light green in Ec’s otherwise brown hair, then gently lays him down in his bassinet. He strokes a hand over Ec’s head, smiling down at the sleeping baby. Even with all of them pitching in to help take care of him, Ec can still be a lot. Part of it comes from worry, of course. Ec is young and small. He’s the son of a clone and a non-human Jedi, both of whom risk their lives almost any time they aren’t with him. The child has no concept of how fragile he and his life are. From the moment he found out Rayona was pregnant, Echo swore to protect not only her but her baby as well. Now, here that baby lays before him. A perfect beam of shining starlight. After a few moments of watching Ec, the door opens and Echo lifts his head. Rayona curls her arms around his torso and rests her chin on his shoulder, looking down at her son. 

“Thanks for taking care of him,” she says softly. He hums, head tilting slightly to rest against hers. 

“Of course. You know I don’t mind,” he says. She hums, and they both stare down at Ec for a moment. “You made a good kid, Ray.” She chuckles softly. 

“He wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t kept me from getting myself killed.” She looks at Ec for a moment. “I’ve never loved anything as much as I love him.” 

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” Echo asks. She lets out a shuddering breath. 

“Terrifying.” Echo curls his droid hand—the one she and Tech built especially for him—around her arm and squeezes gently. 

“We love him too, Ray. We’re here to help you protect him. He’s our baby too.” She chuckles again. 

“Yeah. I guess he is.” They stand there for a few seconds more. 

“I’ll bet you ten credits he wakes up in less than an hour.” She laughs into his shoulder. 

“I might as well just give you those credits now.” He grins. 

“Pay up, General.”

#the bad batch #tbb #sw tbb #clone force 99 #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #the bad batch echo #echo the bad batch #clone trooper echo #arc trooper echo #bad batch echo #tbb echo #he makes me fucking emotional #tbb s3 #star wars the bad batch #baby fluff #baby fic #ECHO SINGS SKDLJFDLSKFJ #clone wars echo #echooooooo #original characters #OC: Rayona Yothia #PLATONIC SOULMATES MOTHERFUCKER

[thesweetnessofspring]

I loved your regency!everlark fake fic! I saw that you said your regency one shot is totally different. Is there anything you can share about that fic?

Thank you so much! As for the one-shot, it originally came to me because I was seeing a lot of Regency stuff on my dash and then @peettamellarrk made a post about wanting a fic of Gale getting cucked by Peeta and my mind sort of ended up blending the two together. I had several ideas for this possible premise but the replies seemed to favor an absolutely cucked Gale. So this is not going to be a sweet wholesome proper Regency type of fic.

The premise is Captain Gale Hawthorne hires renowned artist Peeta Mellark to paint a portrait of his bride. And he'll come to regret that.

First few paragraphs under the cut:

Katniss Everdeen had no choice but to marry Captain Hawthorne.

Her father died of an unexpected illness and she, her mother, and her sister had been living off of her cousin Thom Everdeen’s temporary goodwill. He did not evict them when he moved into their former home, though Katniss knew the day would come that the three women would find themselves removed. 

Thom’s friend, Captain Gale Hawthorne, had become rich from the war and now returned, seeking a wife for his new estate. Tall, serious, dark, and handsome, he’d been the talk of the neighborhood and every eligible woman had hoped to gain his affection. However, Thom had his ear and Katniss resided in the same house during his stay and most crucially, Admiral Darius Keeper had danced thrice with Katniss at the assembly hall one evening. Not to be outdone, Captain Hawthorne proposed the next day and she could do nothing but accept. It was a good match. Advantageous for her, even, as Captain Hawthorne had reminded her during his proposal. And at twenty-four, she was unlikely to receive another offer.

They married in June and despite her mother describing what to expect of her wedding night, it still hurt as she was introduced to her wifely duties, no matter how experienced the Captain had been in preparing her. A week following the wedding, she no longer felt pain when he went inside her, but she still dreaded the evening when her husband came into her chambers. After he was done, she rolled out from under him and hoped he left. With his needs completed, he retired to his own bed.

As a wedding present and to fill his new home, Captain Hawthorne commissioned a renowned painter, Mr. Peeta Mellark, to paint a portrait of his wife. The artist was to stay with them for two weeks while working on the painting.

Captain Hawthorne had spent such time boasting of the reputation Mr. Mellark had that when Katniss saw him for the first time, she couldn’t deny her surprise. He could be no more than thirty, with blond curls and a broad frame and such genial eyes. Katniss felt strange as her husband introduced her to the artist, wishing she could reach out her hand to him, but knowing all they could do was incline their heads to one another.

#talking fanfic #regency!everlark #sneak peek

[cock-holliday]

Do you take fanfic prompts? I’m obsessed with the new Scully’s freckles gifset and would looooove to read something about Mulder just being speechless in her fully freckled presence and sneaking glances at her until she finally asks him what’s going on with him. Ughh I love them both so much.

I do! Not sure this is the direction you were aiming for but it’s the direction this fic ran in. Thank you for the prompt!

“What’s your favorite constellation?” Mulder asked suddenly, drawing Scully’s attention away from the edge of the woods.

They were seated on the hood of their rental jeep in the middle of the night in an open field. In the dark it was hard to see her expression, but she turned her gaze skyward.

She made a thoughtful sound and tipped her head to the side, “Maybe Ursa Minor,” she said, “You see it when you look for the north star.”

“Not Pisces?” Mulder asked with a grin.

He couldn’t see her face but he could hear the smile in her words, “No,” she said, “What about you?”

Mulder shrugged, leaning back against the windshield, “I don’t have one.”

Scully sputtered a laugh, looking back towards the woods in the distance, “It was your game.”

In truth, Mulder did have a favorite constellation, but it was found on Earth rather than in the heavens.

They set out looking for the Loveland Frog three days ago. Mulder had delighted in showing Scully slide after slide about their new case, watching her eyes hood in exaggerated annoyance as he rattled off facts about the subject of their upcoming hunt.

She pulled off her glasses, rolling her eyes before setting her gaze on him again. Mulder clicked to the next slide: a star chart conveying the positions of various planets and stars on a particular night in question. Scully stepped in front of the projector light to cease his rant. It worked.

Scully began explaining the pseudoscientific nature of the graphs he had just presented, but Mulder was only half listening. He was struck by the image of the lines and labels of constellations transposed onto Scully’s face as she spoke. He wondered immediately what the constellations might be called if someone were to map out each and every one of Scully’s freckles.

In the harsh light of the airport, Scully’s eyes looked tired as they waited for their flight, but a hail mary of a joke from Mulder had her grinning ear to ear. Her eyes scrunched and the freckles on her nose became more pronounced. A playful constellation. Something like Canis Minor.

At a diner they stopped in, Scully studied the menu like she was preparing for her license exams. Her eyes scanned back and forth, and a line of freckles along her temple caught Mulder’s eye. It would be called something studious, something fancy. Or determined. Like Pyxis.

Maybe Microscopium, he thought with a laugh.

They got lost on the drive to the woods, and Scully’s eyes turned sharp, the lines of her features growing harsh and determined. They were meant to go left, not right, she told him, the freckles beneath her eyes as she glowered standing bright against her pale skin. Something like Cassiopeia. Regal. Fierce.

Sitting on her motel room bed, reviewing evidence together, her fingers lingered just a bit longer than usual as she took a photo from his hand. She looked away from him, blushing. The crimson breathed new life into the flecks along her cheeks.

No, he thought. Not different little constellations. One large cluster. Unlike the north star, staring at them would give him no sense of direction. He’d find himself lost in them, but grateful for it too. It was easy to get lost in the little details that made her Scully.

The color of her hair. The sharp pierce of her eyes. The fullness of her lips. The quick curve of her brow. The map of Scully across her skin. Her constellation.

Dana Major? Little Starbuck?

No silly names nor poetic names could capture her likeness. She was just Scully.

Each new freckle he found was akin to a new star being discovered. A new piece of the puzzle was uncovered. A new detail about her fell into place.

For all the mysteries of the cosmos, the mystery he was currently engaged with, as they sat side by side watching the trees for a beast of Ohio legend, was how he managed to get so lucky as to meet her.

“What, Mulder?” Scully asked on the plane ride home, “Do I have something on my face?”

She wiped hastily under Mulder’s scrutinizing gaze, but he just smiled and shook his head, “It’s nothing.”

“You keep staring.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her, “I was just thinking about stars.”

“Stars?” Scully asked, perplexed.

“Yeah. Constellations. Stars. Fate.”

Scully snorted, “Suppose we were fated to be delayed on the tarmac?”

Mulder smiled. Always the skeptic.

“Maybe,” he nodded, “Maybe that’s the cosmic tradeoff.”

“Tradeoff for what?”

Mulder chanced a glance at Scully. How her eyes, while full of doubt, were sparkling with amusement. Her lips were pulled into the faintest hint of a smile. And her freckles danced along her skin.

You. Here with me.

“Guess we’ll find out,” Mulder told her.

#txf #txf fanfic #xf fanfic #msr #fictober22 #day 10 #I’m cheating cause I already had a new chapter of b&s for today but didn’t wanna wait #and reply to this after that fic was done #so I’m doing both

[itsjaywalkers]

my shift was supposed to end at 10pm but i didn’t get off until 12am . i literally arrived home half an hour ago . ITS 1:30 .

#another day of hating hospitality jobs #but i need the money etc #and we got free drinks after we were done + i bonded with one of my managers #she added the extra hours and the break i didn’t take on my shift to make sure i’ll get pay for it <3 #anyways im gonna take a painkiller bc i can barely feel my legs and go to sleep #i have a couple of free days so im gonna catch up on fics and reply to comments and write #(​i’ll probably end up doing only half of that but it’s the thought that counts)

[rubberbandballqueen]

About your tags: is there more that you can share about the OW fandom and fics? This was a phenomenon I wonder about too. It was one of the most popular fandoms around 2017-2018, but the way the fandom stopped on its tracks around 2019 was hard not to notice. Especially from people who didn't play the game but were aware of it's fandom.

oh! overwatch is one of about 50-ish fandoms i track for this one spreadsheet project i do as a hobby (which i Technically blog about @fandom-data-scientist, but i've been too lazy to do a proper writeup to explain what the hell it is i do), wherein i try to answer the age-old question: when did the weebs move to ao3?

(the answer is late 2015/early 2016. most likely this was in large part a result of undertale and sports anime, but that's currently just my own conjecture)

According To My Research(tm), the overwatch fandom peaked in late 2016/early 2017 when it comes to the number of new fics posted per month. after this, it declined quite rapidly, as it didn't even get to enjoy a plateau period.

(there's a reason why the plots are really wonky towards the end of this graph-- it's bc i found the past dates for number of fics archived to a particular site via the wayback machine. since those snapshots are typically bot crawls, the number of fics shown on the fandoms listings will not include fics that have been archive-locked. although i technically started this project in august 2022, i did not add overwatch to my tracking list until this june/july or so. my current guess for the small uptick in the rate of ow fics published to ao3 in october 2022 is that the sequel came out? and then the rate plunged for january 2023 bc of the ai scraping scare that happened at around that time-- nearly every single fandom i track had a significant drop right then bc everyone was archive-locking their fics. the rate shooting up in like july 2023 on this chart is bc like i said, that's when i added ow to my list of tracked fandoms; because i'm logged into my own ao3 acct when checking these numbers live, i get access to the archive-locked fics and so the display number goes up.)

in my experience, fandoms will generally kind of plateau in their fic production after their peak, which will ofc normally gradually taper off. games that receive regular lore or story updates probably have fairly long or stable plateaus, although i haven't made scatterplots or made any comparing analyses to prove this rigorously. this plateau period generally represents a time of fandom stability as the fair-weather, casual, or migratory slash fans run off to the next big thing.

if we ignore the fact the plague and quarantine happened, we can see a nice, steady, and very consistent plateau period for the danganronpa fandom from about 2018-2020!

let's look at an older fandom, like my archnemesis final fantasy:

granted, the ao3 numbers are kind of all over the place these days, but you kind of get my point by now, right? that healthy fandoms tend to plateau as the wind carries away the faintly-interested and leaves the long-haulers behind to form their communities.

overwatch struck me as unusual when i was on one of my long wayback machine trips because of the way there was a net increase of only two fics published from 1 july 2021 to 1 october 2021, when before then it had usually been in the hundreds or so. i then went on a work tangent n googled around n more or less concluded it had Something to do with some kind of scandal with the development company, but otherwise i don't really have any more comments on it hahaha.

#asks #Anonymous #long post #i was too lazy to open my other spreadsheets in the project but i probably could've gotten clearer/longer plateaus #out of some of the western tv shows i've been tracking. like glee. or spn. #glee is INCREDIBLY funny to me bc of the way it just DIES right after the finale. like a bubble POPPING #although frankly maybe naruto would've been a better example for a peak n a plateau bc of how steady its fandom is #anyway this felt kind of like an odd ask to answer on this blog bc i keep it Very Separate from my fandom blog(s) hahaha #anyway i also looked at the rate of fic postage for the kingdom hearts fandom n although i didn't talk abt it here in this reply #i thought it interesting how it seemed to plummet on ffn around when ao3 n tumblr started getting a foothold #and then after the weebs moved to ao3 post-undertale/sports anime boom it had a nice steady 300-ish fics/month there #ANYWAY the reason final fantasy is my archnemesis for this project is bc ffn has each game split into its own category #and so i have to count them all up every single time n when doing that for every single fucking date i have marked in the wbm #for 20 YEARS' WORTH OF DATES. well. it upsets a man just a little bit. #BUT I'M DONE I DID MY TIME ON THE FINAL FANTASY BACKLOG I'M FREE NOW I JUST HAVE TO DO IT EVERY THREE MONTHS WHEN I RECORD LIVE DATA #i talk abt this shit at parties btw. people love to hear me talk abt my fandom spreadsheets at parties.

[crossbackpoke-check]

15 questions + 15 friends (tagged by my beloveds @whitenikes & @acheronist 🥰💕 thank you thank you!!)

1. Are you named after anyone?

technically yes… i’m named after a character in a book but my mom has never been able to remember what book 🫡

2. When was the last time you cried?

i don’t usually log frequent crier miles but i definitely cried in december (??) watching the music video for “amelia” for a variety of reasons

3. Do you have kids?

nope! i do refer to my students as my kids sometimes on accident and have freaked out more than one person by saying “my kids” lmao

4. What sports do you play/have played?

currently i play rugby, although i grew up playing a lot of sports—i did volleyball, basketball, track, and danced competitively (which is probably the sport i miss the most)

5. Do you use sarcasm?

me? using sarcasm? never :) here i usually don’t because it doesn’t come across the same over text and irl it’s usually just with people i’m comfortable with and know will get it

6. What is the first thing you notice about someone?

oooo outfit maybe? voice? context dependent for sure

7. What’s your eye color?

legally, hazel. illegally, whatever color the nearest person to me says that they are at the time

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings :)

9. Any talents?

(insert the quinn hughes 😬 on the bench reaction meme please i’m trying ok!!)

i can bake pretty decently! athletic if that’s a talent? i would love to learn how to do more artsy things (got a crochet kit & paint with watercolor sometimes)

10. Where were you born?

michigan 🧤<- not a mitten but i’d show you where i’m from on it if i could

11. What are your hobbies?

reading, although i never have as much time to read as i want to (send me book recs please)… i count sports as a hobby and i just got a really pretty new puzzle! also, obviously, hockey.

12. Do you have any pets?

yes!!! i have a canary and a society finch (orville and duncan), a hypo corn snake (apollo! he has hearts on his head!), and two cats (john watson and effie). in the future i’d love to have a dog again, since i just lost him this past summer

13. How tall are you?

moritz seider (5’3”)

14. Favorite subject in school?

real hot girls speak german 💅 it’s either that or biology but i feel like that’s little bit of a cop out

15. Dream job?

re: the cop out above, dream job is working as a veterinarian for a zoo! so it makes sense i love biology lol

tagging @songsandswords @kj-op @hiding-from-reality-56 @catboy-mahura and anyone else who’d like to and hasn’t done it already!!

#liv in the replies #i don’t always do tag games because i am Shy but i am going to Make An Effort y’all i promise #assorted random comments: #the amount of googling i have done to try and figure out what book i was named after so i could read it… it’s a curse #you can have it in the tags because i didn’t want to put it in text but i am a SAP i will cry about/to medias a lot easier than my life #and generally i really only cry when i’m hormonal l m a o wish it weren’t so #i am a great lakes girlie now & forever midwest kids are doing alright. can’t imagine living somewhere w/o lakes although the ocean’d be ok #i did however make it a goal to read a book every day that i was on break and we did that!!! my other goal did not get accomplished #(finish a fic) because i was like oh i’ll have so much time!!! and then bam i worked like. 40h weeks lmao. every time :)))) #hopefully today i’ll write though if i get everything figured out for [redacted] and i keep forgetting i still have tomorrow too #the most important part about my pets is that orville & duncan (birds) are questionably gay for each other :) &are EXACTLY like their names #me vs my anxiety that i am Bothering People when i tag them: FIGHT #please know if i didn’t tag you but you would’ve done this i love you with my entire heart i just got scared i would be bothering you 💕 #but also like. tell me so i can tag you next time without fear because i love learning about my mutuals 🥺 y’all are the coolest #tag game

[lannisterdaddyissues]

Bill and Rita

OMG CAL U HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA HOW REAL AND TRUE THIS IS TO ME ,,, THE TEARS IN MY FUCKING EYES ,,, IVE BEEN OBSESSING OVER THIS FOR 7 HOURS STRAIGHT SKSAKFKASKDAKDAJHJA

but fr tho trophy wife bill is CANON and no one will ever take it away from me, he has one job and it is to look pretty and be rita’s arm candy 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

#no really i love it when people write fluffy postcanon fics where they stay together or get married after the war #and bill follows rita all over the globe doing press and stuff and is basically just there for eye candy reasons #like seriously i still can’t believe his day job is fucking MEDIA RELATIONS of all things #that is THEE most pretty boy babygirl princess job any commissioned officer in the us army could ever have #ask #reply #calkale #mutual #edge of tomorrow #billrita #thank u SO MUCH for sending this to me it has added millions of years to my lifespan #many thoughts head full of him sitting in her lap what have u done to me… fuckin babygirl lookin ass middle aged man….