#mine wore off before I wrote it or edited it

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Middlemen without enshittification

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me next in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

Enshittification describes how platforms go bad, which is also how the internet goes bad, because the internet is made of platforms, which is weird, because platforms are intermediaries and we were promised that the internet would disintermediate the world:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

The internet did disintermediate a hell of a lot of intermediaries – that is, "middlemen" – but then it created a bunch more of these middlemen, who coalesced into a handful of gatekeepers, or as the EU calls them "VLOPs" (Very Large Online Platforms, the most EU acronym ever).

Which raises two questions: first, why did so many of us end up flocking to these intermediaries' sites, and how did those sites end up with so much power?

To answer the first question, I want you to consider one of my favorite authors: Crad Kilodney (RIP):

https://archive.org/details/thecradkilodneypapers

When I was growing up, Crad was a fixture on the streets of Toronto. All through the day and late into the evening, winter or summer, Crad would stand on the street with a sign around his neck ("Very famous Canadian author, buy my books, $2" or sometimes just "Margaret Atwood, buy my books, $2"). He wrote these deeply weird, often very funny short stories, which he edited, typeset, printed, bound and sold himself, one at a time, to people who approached him on the street.

I had a lot of conversations with Crad – as an aspiring writer, I was endlessly fascinated by him and his books. He was funny, acerbic – and sneaky. Crad wore a wire: he kept a hidden tape recorder rolling in his coat and he secretly recorded conversations with people like me, and then released a series of home-duplicated tapes of the weirdest and funniest ones:

https://archive.org/details/on-the-street-crad-kilodney-vol-1

I love Crad. He deserves more recognition. There's an on-again/off-again documentary about his life and work that I hope gets made some day:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#putrid-scum

But – and this is the crucial part – there are writers out there I want to hear from who couldn't do what Crad did. Maybe they can write books, but not edit them. Or edit them, but not typeset them. Or typeset, but not print. Or print, but not spend the rest of their lives standing on a street-corner with a "PUTRID SCUM" sign around their neck.

Which is fine. That's why we have intermediaries. I like booksellers (I was one!). I like publishers. I like distributors. I like their salesforce, who go forth and convince the booksellers of the world to stock books like mine. I have ten million things I want to do before I die, and I'm already 52, and being a sales-rep for a publisher isn't on my bucket list. I am so thankful that someone else wants to do this for me.

That's why we have intermediaries, and why disintermediation always leads to some degree of re-intermediation. There's a lot of explicit and implicit knowledge and specialized skill required to connect buyers and sellers, creators and audiences, and other sides of two-sided markets. Some producers can do some of this stuff for themselves, and a very few – like Crad – can do it all, but most of us need some help, somewhere along the way. In the excellent 2022 book Direct, Kathryn Judge lays out a clear case for all the good that middlemen can do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/direct-the-problem-of-middlemen/

So why were we all so anxious for disintermediation back in the late 1990s? Here's a hint: it wasn't because we hated intermediaries – it was because we hated powerful intermediaries.

The point of an intermediary is to serve as a conduit between producers and consumers, buyers and sellers, audiences and creators. When an intermediary gains power over the audience – say, by locking them inside a walled garden – and then uses that lock-in to screw producers and appropriate an ever larger share of the value going between them, that's when intermediaries become a problem.

The problem isn't that someone will handle ticketing for your gig. The problem is that Ticketmaster has locked down all the ticketing, and the venues, and the promotions, and it uses that power to gouge fans and rip off artists:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/20/anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-will-eventually-stop/

The problem isn't that there's a well-made website that lets you shop for goods sold by many small merchants and producers. It's that Amazon has cornered this market, takes $0.51 out of every dollar you spend there, and clones and destroys any small merchant who succeeds on the platform:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can stream most of the music ever recorded. It's that Spotify colludes with the Big Three labels to rip off artists and sneaks crap you don't want to hear into your stream in order to collect payola:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/12/streaming-doesnt-pay/#stunt-publishing

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can buy any audiobook you want. It's that Amazon's Audible locks every book to its platform forever and steals hundreds of millions of dollars from creators:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

The problem, in other words, isn't intermediation – it's power. The thing that distinguishes a useful intermediary from an enshittified bully is power. Intermediaries gain power when our governments stop enforcing competition law. This lets intermediaries buy each other up and corner markets. Once they've formed cozy cartels, they can capture their regulators and commit rampant labor, privacy and consumer violations with impunity. That capture also lets them harness governments to punish smaller players that want to free workers, creators, audiences and customers from walled gardens. It also hands them a whip-hand over their workers, so that any worker who refuses to aid in these nefarious plans can be easily fired:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

A world with intermediaries is a better world. As much as I love Crad Kilodney's books, I wouldn't want to live in a world where the only books on my shelves came from people prepared to stand on a street-corner wearing a "FOUL PUS FROM DEAD DOGS" sign.

The problem isn't intermediaries – it's powerful intermediaries. That's why the world's surging antitrust movement is so exciting: by reinstating competition law, we can keep intermediaries small and comparatively weak, so that creators and audiences, drivers and riders, sellers and buyers, and other groups seeking to connect will not find themselves made subservient to middlemen.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#intermediation

#pluralistic #intermediation #disintermediation #publishing #creative labor #middlemen #distributors #publishers #publicists #enshittification #monopoly #monopsony #crad kilodney #trustbusting #antitrust

[bucky-barnes-lover]

Kinktober day 13: Multiple kinks, listed in warnings

Fic: Chris Evans

Warnings ⚠️: SMUT!! 18+, Slight Size Kink if u squint, Slight lingerie kink, NOT PROOF READ!! NOT EDITED!! Sorry if it's really bad, I wrote this at 2am cause I couldn't sleep

W.C: 834

It was a gloomy, rainy evening. The only thing I was looking forward to tonight was seeing my husband. Obviously, as an actor he gets called in at random times during the week, but we were both a bit upset when he got called in this morning. Chris had planned to take me out for dinner tonight as it was our anniversary.

Then my phone started ringing and my ringtone went off as 'Mine' by Taylor Swift. I smiled a little as I realised who had called me. I thought it was quite cute, setting my ringtone as that very song, as it was the only one I knew that described mine and Chris' relationship almost perfectly. I picked up the phone and was greeted by a deep bostonian accent. "Hey babe. How are you?"

"Hi Chrissy" I replied "I'm good, how's work?"

"I was just calling cause, my set just finished and they promised not to call me in until next wednesday. So are we still cool for dinner?" Chris questioned as I fiddled with my nails nervously.

"Yeah totally. What time will you be home?" I asked as I walked over to the calendar to check our reservation time.

"Definitely not before 6. I'll be stuck in traffic for a while." "Shit, What time is our reservation?" He asked suddenly.

"It's at 5:30 so we'll have to cancel." I declared, feeling guilty. "Could you call them up please."

"Yep, I'll do it right after this call." I answered, "Thanks baby. I'll see you soon, love you." Said Chris,

"Love you too, be safe on the road."

I replied before I hung up.

After calling up the restaurant to cancel our reservation, I figured Chris would be home soon. So I put on his favourite one of my lingerie, and set the bedding so it would be ready by the time he arrived home.

About an hour later, I heard the front door open, and in walked my husband. I frowned as I realised just how tall Chris' 6ft frame was compared to to my tiny 5.2 feet.

"Hi love!" I exclaimed as I walked up to kiss him. I heard a gasp exit his mouth as he turned around to see me in such intimate clothing. "Hi baby" "You look amazing!" He marveled as he returned my kiss. "Thanks, I was thinking. Since we couldn't go out for dinner, we could maybe celebrate at home. In bed. No clothes." I asked nervously. Earning a little laugh from Chris, and replying with "Sure, Why not. We haven't had time to 'hang out' in a while"

With that confirmation of yes, I ran upstairs to our bedroom, hearing Chris' footsteps following shortly behind. Once again the realisation hit, Chris was huge compared to me. However, I kinda liked the size difference. It was basically a turn on for me. I climbed onto the bed as he entered the bedroom, shirt already discarded. His tattoo's making me go feral, I pulled him onto the bed, having Chris towering over me.

"I love this lingerie, you look so sexy in it." Stated Chris as he started pressing soft kisses on my neck,

"I know Baby, that's why I wore it. But I'd love it better if you would take it off me" I smirked. Feeling Chris pause, I tugged at his belt, urging him to continue. With a small laugh, He continued kissing me while removing his belt and pants. "May I?" He asked as he started playing with my shoulder straps. With a nod of consent, he started undoing the straps, finally discarding the piece of clothing.

My soft, eager moans filled the room as Chris started kissing his way down to my breasts. Finally taking one of my nipples in his mouth. "Fuck" I moaned over and over again as he rolled his tongue around the sensitive areas.

"Feel good baby?" He questioned as he moved down, to align his cock to my entrance. I could only moan in response, feeling too overwhelmed to put together a sentence.

"Ready" Chris asked as he inserted his tip, through my folds. "Go for it baby" I replied, sounding way too desperate.

Chris' huge figure towered over me as he thrusted into me. I couldn't keep myself from crying out his name in pleasure. He went faster and faster, bringing his thumb to start rubbing my clit. An electric feeling ran through my body as I felt myself coming closer to my orgasmn. Chris' fingers working wonders. His thrusts became slower and lazy, "Come on baby, when you're ready, Cum for me" He whispered in my ear as he continued moving his hips. "Fuck! Chris!" I moaned as I came undone under his work. Him following seconds later, squirting hot cum inside me.

Not long after our 'hang out' time, Chris brought dinner to our bedroom. We ended up ordering take out, since we knew we would get to doing more 'hanging out' later tonight.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

This was supposed to be a Drabble but I got carried away lol

#marvel fanfiction #chris evans moodboard #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #christopher robert evans #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #mcu #marvel fic #marvel cast #captain america #captain #americas ass #kinktober day 13 #writing challenge

[mihrsuri]

Superlatives of my Stories: 2023 Edition

I stole this meme from @petralemaitre

Leitmotif of the year: You get to be a survivor of sexual assault! You get to be a survivor of sexual assault! You get an OT3 and a Found Family! Or ‘that is yours, I am not’ across multiple fandoms.

My best story of this year: I think probably There’s Blood (On The Side Of The Mountain) which is the West Wing ‘CJ was kidnapped not Zoey’ AU, written from the POV of an outsider OC - it unfurled exactly how I wanted it to - an atmosphere of ambiguity as to what happened, what’s happening and what’s going to - also very narrowly focused.

My favorite and/or truest story of this year: My absolutely favourite thing I wrote was a tie between two Grishaverse stories - a Hunger Games AU and Get Wrecked Tante Heleen (tm) - Never Again (It’s Not An Act Of Love) & Karma (Is My Family)

They are both stories about found families, about how the narratives of those who abuse and hurt you aren’t true, about love as partnership - all kinds of love as well, about the gift of choice. Also stabbing some fuckers.

Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion: I think they’ve all been incredibly appreciated considering - actually possibly uneasy (with the semi divine) which is about Rings of Power Gil-galad and his attitude towards Elronds biracial identity which wasn’t not me as a biracial person having Feelings about it.

I would also always always love more comments on the Tudors OT3 Verse. More content in the OT3 verse in general but I understand it’s niche content.

Most fun story to write: Every single bit of You Belong With Us which was an absolute joy - there was so much love and trust and happiness (and then an undertone of sadness at not being able to express that love openly that I hope came through as well)

Story with the single sexiest moment: For me personally it’s House This Love (Of Ours)

Most "Holy crap, that's wrong, even for you" story: Did I write Scarlet Pimpernel OT4 fic with a definite villain Chauvelin who is in love with both Blakeneys? Yes. Did I also manage to write (fictional versions) of Robert Dudley/Elizabeth I knife kink fic? Also yes. I maintain both of those are fine ;).

The Thomas Cromwell/Anne Boleyn/Henry VIII Harem AU is the most Dead Dove Do Not Eat in all honesty - I was having a lot of very personal trauma feelings in that one.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: I wrote the Bartlet Daughters in I Tried To Rewrite It (But I Can’t) and I think that really made me think about both Ellie and Elizabeth Bartlet in a way I never had before - even though it’s obviously an AU verse it got me to recognise things about them and about the way they approach their parents high profile in very different ways.

Hardest story to write: It could have been the Knife Kink fic (because kink (all kink) is a giant personal trigger for me) but I think it might actually have been the OT3 verse fic because there’s so much thought and preparation that went into it - though the actual writing of the story isn’t actually the hard part.

Biggest disappointment: have not in fact written more of Crown Of Ashes, the Tudors OT3 Verse AU AU of ‘what happens when Mary Tudor gets everything she thinks she wanted and it turns out it absolutely sucks and turns to ashes for her’

Biggest surprise: Did not expect to be writing knife kink and also did not expect to fall headfirst back into writing West Wing fic but for the latter I have to credit the lovely Discord People and also @miabicicletta in particular.

Most unintentionally telling story: It is almost certainly In Our Bedroom (After The War) or the giant Grishaverse Cuddle Pile ficlet.

Best title: Only Wore This Doublet (So You Could Take It Off) is the aforementioned Elizabeth I/Robert Dudley knife kink fic and honestly I am so proud of that title. A+ use of Taylor Swift lyric.

Story I haven't yet written, but intend to: The Sam/Donna/Josh fic told in social media posts.

*

#meme

[riitah]

[“mine”] - yandere!childe x fem!reader

MODERN AU

TRIGGER WARNINGS: cursing, and mentions of blood, gore, and death

SYNOPSIS: childe had been growing increasing jealous of the attention you were giving a female peer, so he decided to deal with it himself. even if that meant killing you in the process.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i didn’t really like the og one i wrote of this so here’s an edited version!

It was quite late at night; probably a little past 11:45PM.

Many parts of the town still bustled with activity at this time, but this one was not one of them. Aside from a few rats scurrying about the food that the restaurants dumped outside their buildings, there were barely any signs of life in this area.

But if one were to stop and listen carefully, underneath the clattering of porcelain from the staff cleaning up the last of their plates and the tree branches swaying in the wind, they would be able to hear the voice of a girl, high-pitched and terrified.

“W-who are you? Why are you doing this?”

Words came tumbling out of her mouth, shaky and near incoherent -- a messy collection of letters sloppily assembled to buy time and nothing else. She slid down to the floor with her back pressed against the cold wall of the tight alleyway, blood trickling down the side of her head and staining her navy-blue dress. Her head hurt like hell when she tried lifting it to get a better view of who was standing in front of her. Her throat was dry and it was difficult getting air down to her lungs, but nevertheless, she still opened her mouth to scream for help.

“Somebody, help me, please!”

These words merely rang through the small space, bouncing off the concrete but never reaching any other ears. It was the same with the hearty laughter that followed, which was so warm and full of enthusiasm that it’d fool anyone who was listening into thinking that this was just an emotional reunion between two friends.

“It’s no use, (F/N).” The same person who had laughed spoke up. “No one lives around this area. Most people who work here or pass by this place on their nightly strolls are home by now.” A smirk was growing on his face, hidden by the mask he wore. The girl in front of him sounded so desperate, so unlike herself. Did her confidence from earlier dwindle now that she knew she had nowhere to run or hide? “Don’t you get it? You’re alone with me. No one is going to hear you. And (Y/N) won’t be able to play your knight in shining armor like she always does.”

He spat out the last part with a hint of hatred that spilled from the bottle he kept screwed up and sealed tight.

“How do you—?”

The question was interrupted when he crouched down in front of her. With one gloved hand, he pulled down his hood. It was pitch dark, but the moonlight was more than enough for (F/N) to recognize him and his unique features.

Tousled red hair, light freckles, and piercing blue eyes that were void of light.

“Childe—?”

“Ajax,” ‘Childe’ said with a glare, cutting her off. “I might’ve told everyone to call me that, but I want it out of your filthy mouth.

Several minutes passed by in silence as he scanned her up and down. (F/N) didn’t know what was going through his mind, but she was sure it had nothing to do with letting her go.

“I…Chil—” she tried, but instead of any change in behavior like she had hoped, she got a hard slap across the face before she could even finish. Her cheek stung, a dull pain that somehow also made its way to the inside of her mouth.

“It’s Ajax.” Childe scowled. “Are you deaf or something?”

She whimpered and lowered her head. There were about a million thoughts racing through her head, but none of them gave her an idea of why Childe would want to hurt her. She had always stayed out of his way, and heck, they didn’t even talk unless their professor made them partners for a project.

So, why? And what did any of this have to do with (Y/N)?

It was only when she heard the sound of metal clinking against each other did she look back up.

Childe was looking through a pouch, his eyebrows pinched together in concentration. “Where is it…” he mumbled, getting slightly exasperated at how long this ordeal was taking. Then after a few moments, he raised an object in the air triumphantly, as if he was showing off some first-place trophy. “Aha!”

Through her tears, (F/N) couldn’t see it very well, but the way it almost shone in the natural light made her blood run cold.

Surgical scissors.

“Chi—Ajax, you’re not possibly—?” (F/N) said, her voice rising in terror.

“You know the assignment the professor told us to turn in next week? The one that we were supposed to do together?” The corners of Childe’s eyes crinkled up as he smiled. “I was wondering, why don’t we do the dissection on you instead of the frog we had planned on? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that the report and analysis are so perfect, he’ll probably even give us extra credit.”

“What did I even do? Whatever I did, tell me and I’ll fix it!”

"If you don’t even understand what you did wrong, then there’s even less reason for me to hold back.”

He stabbed her in the abdomen, though he had planned his first cut somewhere else. The motion was so sudden that (F/N) didn’t even have time to react to protect herself.

She screamed.

Childe’s eyes widened to mimic a maniacal expression at the sound, and his heart pounded feverishly at the thought of how much more pain he could put her through. The horror she’d be feeling as he continued to work on her with the very same surgical knives they had used in the lab just yesterday was enough to send him into a frenzy. But the best part is, the last thing on her mind won’t be (Y/N), but this murderer before her.

He should be the only one who was thinking about (Y/N).

“Delightful, absolutely delightful!” He chuckled as he pulled out the scissors. “Do you feel it now, (F/N)? The pain?! Come on, describe it to me in detail!”

“Ajax, stop, please! It hurts--!” (F/N) choked out, covering her fresh wound with one hand. The blood still trickled down between her fingers, staining them red. A metallic scent filled the air, making her gag, prompting her to swallow down the fresh blood that threatened to spill out from her throat.

Stab.

She could see her bruised and wet face reflected in his dark eyes.

Stab.

She attempted to stand up, but instead slipped and fell because of the hot pain shooting up from her legs.

Stab.

She couldn’t even process the pain anymore, and her vision was getting blurrier and blurrier as more and more black spots appeared.

“Don’t ignore me now! Talk to me!”

Childe’s voice sounded miles away.

Her throat felt red and raw from screaming, and her voice was getting weaker and weaker. The energy she originally possessed seemed to have left her, and she gave up fighting.

Not that Childe had noticed.

It was only after a few minutes, after he saw the way her arms laid limply at her sides, that he stopped. His bloody knife raised in midair, and him, breathless. He stared at the dead body in front of him, finally coming back to his senses.

With a sigh, he stood up and stretched. “Hahh…I got carried away again… She didn’t last that long. But either way, job finished. (Y/N)’s all mine. And anyone who gets in the way…”

“Childe?”

A familiar voice interrupted his monologue, and he turned around in surprise. A warm feeling blossomed in his chest as he met the newcomer’s eyes, and he pulled down his mask excitedly.

“(Y/N)! What brings you here?”

“Childe, is that…blood on you…?”

He opened his arms as (Y/N) started walking in his direction.

“Yes! (Y/N), I—!”

But she completely ignored him, not even sparing him a second glance, and approached the body behind him.

Standing in front of it, not moving a muscle.

Childe followed.

“Is this…(F/N)?” she said softly. “Is she...dead?”

Childe’s disappointment at her lack of attention quickly dissipated as he jumped to explain, grinning. “Yes, and yes! She was getting a bit too close to you, so I figured—”

“So you figured that killing her would be the best thing to do?” Her voice trembled. “Is that it?”

Childe blinked. Wasn’t she happy that he killed someone for her? Wasn’t she proud?

“Answer me!” She turned to look at him, her hands balled into fists, her tears wetting her cheeks. “Was that what you thought?!”

“Oh, (Y/N).” He cupped her face in his hands, his tone patient and almost condescending. “You don’t understand--”

“Don’t touch me!” She slapped them away and stepped back. “Don’t…don’t come near me.”

As if even the heavens were grieving with her, it started to pour. The blood washed away from Childe’s face, making him look more like a misunderstood man who had just arrived on the scene than anything else.

“It was for you! Aren’t you happy?” he shouted in an effort to let himself be heard over the rain.

“Happy? Don’t make me laugh!” (Y/N) shouted back, her reason for doing so differing from his. “I don’t care whether you killed someone because of me or not; what you did was absolutely wrong! In fact, I feel even worse because it was ‘for me’!”

Childe clenched his fists. “It was just one person! Why are you stressing so much over it?”

“‘Just one person’? Are you crazy?! You killed someone, Ajax!”

At that, Childe froze. (Y/N) had never called him by his given name since they had become friends.

“I overlooked the fact that you were part of that delinquent group at school because you didn’t seem to be like the other members.” Even through all the rain, he could hear the sadness penetrating through her angry front. “But you come and do—do this?”

Why was she so upset? He couldn’t understand why she cared so much about the girl. She should have that much care for him, not her.

And then, a sudden realization dawned on him. A realization that made him wish he hadn’t killed (F/N) so fast.

…does she…?

“Do you like her back?” he said. “Do you enjoy her company more than mine?”

“Is this what it’s about?! About some stupid romantic feelings?! She and I were just friends!”

She didn’t answer the question.

“So you did like her. That’s why you’re making such a big deal.”

“Excuse me? Me? Making a big deal? You just murdered someone, for god’s sake!”

He took a step toward her, and she took a step back.

“I don’t get it. What’s so good about her? What does she have that I don’t?”

Betrayal. Sadness. Confusion. Why her and not him?

“Tell me, (Y/N) -- what draws you in about her? She’s boring. She’s spoiled. She’s constantly seeking attention. What makes you love her? Talk to me!”

He took another step. And another. And another. (Y/N) tripped over (F/N)’s body, falling backwards into her pool of blood. Childe dropped down onto his knees in front of her, and dropped his knife to hold her shoulders with both hands. She flinched and tried to shake him off, but he just tightened his grip, his fingernails digging into her skin through her clothes.

“Why don’t you love me? I gave you so much, I tried showing my love to you so many times, but you always laugh it off! Why isn’t it the same with her?!”

“Let go!” (Y/N) said, pushing against his chest. She was pretty sure that her shoulders were bleeding at this point, and the distance between them was uncomfortably small.

“Just give me a chance! I’ll make you the happiest person in the world, I swear! I’ll even stop killing people—”

“People?” (Y/N) stopped, staring at him in disbelief. “You mean this wasn’t the only person you’ve killed?”

“Why does that matter to you? You didn’t even know half of them!”

“You’re—you’re out of your fucking mind! I can’t believe I was friends with a psycho like you! Let go of me!”

She gave a final push and Childe let go of her out of shock. Standing up, she fumbled for her phone.

Childe picked up his knife as she tried to dial 911 with shaky, wet fingers.

“Stupid water,” she cursed under her breath as the droplets kept on making the screen register her taps as her pressing on the number 5.

After a few more tries, the “call” button was clicked.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

(Y/N) glanced up and almost dropped her phone when she saw what Childe was holding. Nothing of use came out of her mouth when she tried to speak. She was petrified, rooted in her spot, scared of this man who had been so nice to her before all of this.

“Ajax, don’t,” was all she could whisper out.

“Hello? Ma’am? Who are you talking to?” the operator said.

She couldn’t hear her anymore, especially not over her accelerating heartbeat that was pounding in her ears. All she was focused on was the person who was getting closer and closer to her as each second ticked by. Her legs refused to move no matter how much she pleaded, and instead, gave out right as Childe arrived in front of her.

He had the advantage now.

He got down on one knee, grabbing her chin roughly. His piercing blue eyes that once sparkled with joy upon seeing her, now looked into hers with newfound clarity.

The answer had been right under his nose all along.

“If I can’t have you, then no one can.”

#childe x reader #childe x fem!reader #childe x you #genshin impact x you #yandere childe #gi childe #genshin impact childe #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact #genshin #genshin childe #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #oneshot #y/n #childe genshin impact #yandere

[waywardangel-wilds]

Fanfic I wrote

I started writing this when I was 15 I think, it's not amazing BUT it has some good moments. I've decided to finish it and edit the parts that I don't like so I guess it's a WIP now! Here's a preview of the first chapter:

Winter was a rough season for District Twelve. It brought heavy blizzards and long dark bitter nights. People grew ill frequently, and food became scarce. There wasn't any game to hunt, not that Katniss needed to hunt anymore. She was a victor now, filled to the brim with riches. She needed nothing. She no longer hungered, nor did she grow cold. Her house was equipped with all commodities known to man. She could survive the harsh winter easily as she wallowed in the darkness of her heart.

Katniss sat at the kitchen table helping her sister, Prim, pack up her medical supplies with their mother. The Everdeen healers had lots of work to see. They had hundreds of frostbitten citizens to tend to, flues to medicate, and hypothermia to spot. It seemed as if everyone was busy for the season. Her family had the Districts sick, Haymitch had alcohol to drink, Peeta had bread to bake, and Gale had a mine to work at. Katniss had nothing else to do than observe the snowfall punctuated with Peeta's comings and goings. On more than one occasion she found herself watching him shovel snow.

Their fingers worked fast, and the supplies were packed quickly. Her mother and sister pulled on their coats and wrapped themselves in their scarves. They were gone in a matter of minutes.

Katniss considered visiting Haymitch but quickly decided against it. Fond thoughts of Haymitch? She wasn't quite despondent enough for that.

Instead, she settled in her own living room with a hot mug of tea, covered in a warm fur coverlet. There was nothing else for her to do but sit, think, and wait out the storm.

She wished she had something to occupy her time with so that she could be of use. She couldn't carry out her trade and had no other useful skills. She could patch up a roof or clear up a drain, but the snow lay too thick on the roof for her to even consider such tasks.

Sometimes she wondered what Peeta did all day.

He seemed very busy. He left early in the mornings and returned close to midnight. She couldn't imagine what could possibly take that long.

It was nearly midnight. Katniss considered making another pot of tea, to pass the time. She was fighting off sleep as she set down the kettle on the stove when someone knocked on her door. She froze for a second, puzzled. She never had any visitors, other than the occasional patient seeking her mother. She was prepared to give directions to her old house in the Seam when she opened her door to an unsuspected sight.

Peeta Mellark stood on her doorstep with snowflakes in his hair.

He wore an expression startlingly similar to her own: dark bags under his eyes and heavy eyelids he fought to keep from drooping. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders at the sudden chill.

She ignored the strange fluttering in her stomach as she endured direct contact with his indigo eyes. She hadn't seen them in months.

"I have all this leftover bread," he explained and motioned towards a paper bag in his hand. He cleared his throat. "I figured you could make use of it."

Katniss took the bag he offered and peeked inside. It was an assortment of different loaves. They all looked hearty. She smiled her thanks.

"Thank you, Peeta. You really didn't have to."

He shrugged "It was no issue. I bake too much." He began to turn towards his house. There was a single path of footsteps from across the street to her doorstep. His footsteps, fresh and new. The snow made the world look so still, as if they were the only two people in the world.

He was shivering. His cheeks were bright red as was his nose. His lips were looking a little too pale. How impractical it would be to save his life just to let him freeze in the middle of the street.

She reached to grasp his upper arm before he turned away from her, startling him. He turned to look at her, questioning her. She tugged on him lightly, pulling him inside "Would you like to stay? You're freezing and we're due for a blizzard soon, I wouldn't want you to be stuck in your house by yourself."

He began to decline her offer when she pulled on him with more force "It won't be a bother, Peeta. Come in, please."

He hesitated momentarily but nodded, nevertheless. She closed the door quickly behind him as he pulled off his snow boots and shrugged off his coat shedding snow as he went.

here's a link to the rest: Winter Chapter 1: Winter Nights, a hunger games fanfic | FanFiction

please forgive me for the amateur-level writing, but honestly, I think parts of it still hold up. Plus this is the fic that gives me the least anxiety to write.

I hope you enjoy some cheese!

#the hunger games #thg #everlark #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #katniss and peeta #catching fire #catching fire au #fanfic #thg fanfiction

[voiceoutofstars]

From the Revised Data Bank: "Band of Sizzling Thunder"

Reminder that I'm not a professional editor or proofreader. I cannot read or speak Mandarin. This is a fan revision for readability, not a re-translation. For a lengthy explanation of this pet project and repeated disclaimers, check here.

Without further ado, below is my attempt at revising the Data Bank entry for the relic set "Band of Sizzling Thunder." The real in-game text for that entry can be read here.

(Edits to this post are likely to continue as I find errors in a series about readability. I offer no excuses, except that words are tricky and grammar is trickier. I'm glad that better minds than mine do this work in the real world.)

Band's Polarized Sunglasses

A pair of classic sunglasses worn by Janis, one of the lead singers. The chrome lenses reflect a blue hue.

The star's lifespan was plunging as the red giant drew nearer to its collapse into a white dwarf. Beneath the impending threat of the red star’s supernova, residents of Emerald-III began to flee their home planet.

Faced with this future inevitability, the system elites denied any hope to the rest of the inhabitants. They feigned ignorance even as cries of desperation grew louder.

Janis' parents paid a massive amount of credits for the family to board the escape ship, all the while helplessly praying for some kind of interstellar salvation. With the supernova imminent, escape was the only option. However, Janis, the Doctor of Chaos, chose to face the annihilation of her home planet head-on. She did so in an attempt to prove that Emerald-III, having once existed as a home for so many, would never truly perish.

As the dying sun burned ever brighter, Janis took her mother's sunglasses and returned to her home planet with like-minded youths beside her.

Only cowards flee while shouting the names of saviors. --From "Cheap Salvation," a hit from Sizzling Thunder's first album. Janis reworked her angry words from a dispute with her parents into its lyrics.

Band's Touring Bracelet

Sid the bassist’s bracelet, woven from silk tour wristbands. Lyrics are written on some of the bands.

Enthusiasm for Emerald-III’s Sizzling Thunder caught fire, blazing across the whole planet as the band released hit after hit.

Dazzling sparks flew from Dave’s fingertips as the electrifying thunder of the rhythm guitarist’s opening chords kicked off the concert tour. Hordes of fans worshiped those sparks and that thunder as the only light left in their doomed lives.

At each concert, fans of Sizzling Thunder passed out wristbands to everyone entering the concert grounds. They were volunteers, keeping order and offering welcome to all despite what was to come. Most of these fans could not afford the exorbitant price of escape off-world; before Sizzling Thunder’s return, they were trapped in that awful expectant wait for the electromagnetic death burst of their sun. When they witnessed the doomed homecoming of the rebellious youths of Sizzling Thunder, however, something in their bones ignited. On these freely distributed wristbands, they wrote their lyrics and their showtime passion, all the thunder of the band pouring into an unvoiced scream.

Sid the bassist collected wristbands from every concert. His girlfriend wove them into a bracelet for him, and Sid wore it all the time.

There's no meaning, no direction, Nowhere else to go, And no future for us. --From "Our Way," a single from Sizzling Thunder's second album, and Sid's life credo.

Studded Leather Jacket

David, one of the band's lead singers, drew a white star on the back of this leather jacket and made it the cover of the band's final album.

The rock 'n' roll of Sizzling Thunder resounded through the galaxy, calling involuntarily displaced youngsters home to crumbling Emerald-III.

Lead guitarist Jimmy led the band underground to the shelters. There they sang about the tragedy of planetary destruction, and their rock ballads echoed throughout the entire universe.

On the back of his leather jacket, David printed a white star—or, more accurately, a white dwarf, the future state of their sun after its collapse. This symbol, this music—it would be the resounding proof that their homeworld's sun had existed. Those who fled the doomed system and those who stayed behind all heard that thundering rock 'n' roll, and they all united to brandish that same striking symbol.

Despite the star’s death and the jacket’s ultimate annihilation, their presence is now mixed into music and carved into eternity.

We'll burn with our life, 'Cause the white star needs a spark to ignite. --From "White Star," a single from Sizzling Thunder's final album of the same name. David wrote both lyrics and music.

Band's Ankle Boots With Rivets

Drummer Bonham's ankle boots, their dark leather surfaces studded with rivets that reflect the stage lights.

Sizzling Thunder may have changed people's attitudes toward Emerald-III’s final end, but they could not change that end itself.

Desolation and despair were all that remained on the surface of the doomed planet. In this era of scarce resources, the band's albums were made out of discarded X-ray film.

In the early moments of the long night of Emerald-III, the temperature on the planet's surface plunged. The once unbearably searing air was cooling down quite a bit as people emerged from their underground shelter and set out for the place where the band was playing. At this final concert of their "Thunderclap" tour, the restless air filled with the sizzling threat of electromagnetic storms, and lightning ran wild through the metal scaffolding of the stage. Sparks leaped under Bonham's boots. The entire band became the storm, their silhouettes crackling with lightning and their chords a crescendo of thunder. With the last note of the encore, a huge ball of lightning engulfed the stage and ended Sizzling Thunder's final show.

And so, on the night of their twilight show, Sizzling Thunder came to a permanent end, just as their lyrics declared.

Thunderclaps drown out our voice, Lightning runs through our veins. We'll perish with our music and our star. --From "Song of Sizzling Thunder," a single from Sizzling Thunder's final album. Bonham's masterpiece.

#honkai star rail #hsr #star rail #lore #star rail lore #fan revision #relics #band of sizzling thunder #remember this is not the real in-game text #proofreading #text errors #data bank

[beskarberry]

Bargaining with Beskar (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“Alright, space cowboy, your turn.” You nodded towards the bulge that had made his baggy canvas pants grow tight, and he followed your gaze with what you guessed was surprise. “Let’s see what you’ve got in there, hmm?”

Rating : Explicit

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: canon-typical violence (bounty capture) smut: captured bounty sex, rough play (soft choke), fingering, pent up sex.

Summary: You’re an ex bounty hunter just trying to escape the guilds radar long enough to spend a hefty reward, but a another bounty hunter has other plans for you. Can you convince him to let you go with only your charm, or will you find yourself in carbonite?

Authors note: I wrote this in a fury in the middle of the night so it’s messy and very very self indulgent. It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything so if I need to tag something tell me!

Edit: This fic started on another blog of mine but I moved it here to keep it consistent for when I add more chapters.

Next->

You'd had a good run.

It was a hard opportunity to pass up, the high profile bounty you had been charged to bring in had been able to contact their family shortly before you had captured them and the family offered to pay you handsomely for their return, easily triple what the guild was going to pay for this bail jumper. You’d taken the deal, but that meant you would be returning to the guild empty handed. Maybe if you laid low for a while they'd forget.

Of course that was a stupid thought, within weeks you had noticed rookie hunters on your tail.  Word had gotten out that the bounty was walking free and a sloppy bounty hunter was a liability to the guild. After evading all of the green-horns for a time the more experienced hunters began tracking you, and your only choice with them was kill or be killed. They should have known you wouldn't go down quietly.

Months passed before you saw another hunter, hoping against hope that they had given up. It wasn't until you had gotten somewhat comfortable on Tatooine that the last one came.

You were far outside of Mos Eisly, the sandy city was barely a smudge on the horizon from where you were laying low doing repair work on a moisture extractor when he arrived. The machines engine was so loud in your ear you never heard him coming up over the dune, though through the scope of the pulse riffle he carried you wouldn't have heard him anyway. You cranked a ratchet against a stubborn bolt,

-crank.... crank.... c-CRZZT-!

Electricity coursed through you,  your first thought was that somehow you had made a connection with a loose wire and shocked yourself, but it was soon obvious that whatever had electrified you was strong enough to paralyze you, causing you to drop down onto the ground. Your fingers were still twitching when you heard bootsteps coming over the sand, but you were unable to stand, instead you worked to shake the electricity running through you.

"Th-thi-think I hit a whi-wh-wire there, I- I- I- I'll get it fi- fixed." you stuttered through clenched teeth, thinking it was the moisture farmer that had hired you coming to see if you were ok. The pulse was wearing off quickly, and you were able to jerk your head enough to make visual contact with the boot of the man approaching you, but these were not the boots of a farmer, they were the boots of a bounty hunter.

"Oh fuck" you tried to scramble to your feet, but you were still jarred from the pulse bolt that had hit you. The man above you wasn't going to wait for you to get your footing, and kicked you over onto your back with one bandoliered boot, then kneeled into your gut with the other, knocking the wind out of you. Still twitching with electricity he snapped a pair of binders on your wrist before hauling you to your feet. You struggled in his grasp, a combination of convulsion and fear made you squirm like a womp rat in a trap, but his grasp was too strong. Suddenly there was cold metal pressed against your side, the barrel of a blaster digging into your ribs.

"Move it." A man of little words but quick and to the point, the blaster barrel forced harder into your side to accentuate his point. He ripped your supply bag off of your shoulders and stuffed a leather clad hand into the belt of your canvas pants to fish out your hidden blaster. Rude. He shoved you toward the barren wasteland of the dune sea, unable to argue with the barrel digging into your ribs you both set off in a brisk pace across sands.

"Whose p- paying you?" You sputtered, still feeling the after effects of the pulse bolt. "I can pay you m- more. I made three ti- times the bounty the guild would pay and I would g- gladly split it with you." Bargaining was your only option at the moment, arms and legs like jelly and unable to put up a good fight. The hunter said nothing, continuing to half march half drag you over the sands. "I bet half is still more than double what they're paying you now, so whad’dya say? Wanna go splitsies?" Still nothing. You huffed, dragging your legs in the sand as best you could to slow him down, but a quick jab with the blaster barrel had you singing a different tune.

The pair of you marched on for a couple hours through the dunes towards a rocky outcropping, you continued making offers of credits and services but never once did he respond, choosing instead to shank you with the blaster or shove a hand into your back to remind you of your current position as his prisoner, without letting you get so much as a peek at your captor. Before long you both had made it to the rocks, and hidden behind them was the saddest looking star ship you had ever seen. It was pre-Imperial you were sure, standing dusty and dented in the fading double sunset. The fact that it had survived atmospheric reentry was a surprise in itself. Like hell you were getting on that thing. The bounty hunter shoved you forward towards the ugly ship, letting go of you just long enough to press a couple buttons on his vambrace to open the entry ramp. It was now or never.

Tired and dehydrated as you were from your trek across the dunes you knew this might be your only chance. You tucked in your bound wrists and made a run for it, kicking up sand in your escape. You were fast but he was faster.

-fwip!- SNAP! Something had caught your leg, yanking your feet out from under you and forcing you to do a faceplant in the rocky sand with a thud. You whipped around to find that he had shot you with some kind of grapple, hauling you back towards him by your ankle you were finally able to see who had caught you.

Is that the Mandalorian? From Karga’s cantina? Of all the hunters you had seen in your travels, Mandalorians were a breed all their own. The stoic hunters had frequented the ramshackle cantina on Navarro that you had visited a handful of times in your earlier days of hunting. You’d started to recognize one in particular that frequented the guild post often. His beskar helmet was shiny unpainted silver, but the last time you had seen him the rest of his armor was a dingy reddish brown. The thought was fleeting as you struggled to escape being dragged by the grapple but once he had you back in his grasp there was no denying it was the same man. He was covered almost head to toe in bullets and beskar, all the way up to the familiar shiny dome of it that covered his entire head. You were able to get an excellent view of its craftsmanship as he pulled you back up to your feet and marched you backwards into the old ship, the black shimmer of his visor never leaving your face. You stumbled over your own feet, fighting with the last bit of your strength for one last chance at escape.

“Mando! Remember me? From Kargas? On Navarro? Yeah yeah heya buddy! Hey hunter to hunter you don’t actually want to bring me in, I just know how much you ~looove~ talking with that old cantina crook and the, uh, paper work! Yeah paper work is suuuch a headache! I’ll just slip on out of here and we can both avoid a bad time, sound good?” Though you knew who he was you’d never spoken to this man in your life, and he of course wasn’t going to entertain your pleas, but it was the best you had. You were pushed backwards through the ship, past supply crates and what looked like the guts of a protocol droid towards what you could only guess was a carbonite chamber. He tossed your supply pack somewhere into the bowels of the ship without ever taking his gaze off you. Panic found a few last drops of adrenaline to pump through your veins as you neared your impending doom. Your silent captor backed you into the chamber, puffs of fog billowing out from behind you as the machine fired up. You had to get out, thrashing in his grasp and kicking against the walls of the chamber with every last bit of strength you had, but just like the armor he wore, he himself was unbreakable.

The bigger hunter was becoming fed up, frustrated with your squirming and never ending bargaining; he needed you to hold still long enough for him to hit the activation sequence so this hunt would be over. He let go of your bound wrists and pushed a leather clad hand up against your throat.

“~Ahh~!”

The noise that escaped your mouth made you both freeze, you just as shocked as he was. Your cheeks flushed with heat, embarrassed that in your current state of capture such a filthy noise had been coaxed from you. You squeezed your eyes shut, just waiting for it to be over and let the carbonite freeze you into oblivion, but its chill never came. You slowly opened one eye to glance at the armored man, but he looked like he was the one that had been frozen.

“What was that?” His voice was like gravel coming through the modulator of his helmet, and you flushed red again at his question, looking between the corners of his visor where you thought his eyes might be.

“Don’t worry about it, tin man.” you croaked, “Just hurry up and let’s get this over with.” You squeezed your eyes shut again, hoping that the darkness behind your eyelids was enough for you to vanish into. But you felt the hand leave your neck, coasting down to your bound wrists and tugging you out of the carbonite freezer. Unable to really argue with him you followed his pull on shaky legs, looking at the unreadable face for a sign of his intentions. Once you were free of the chamber he pushed you up against the nearby wall and held you in front of him, completely motionless.

You were confused, embarrassed, and now suddenly frustrated. Was he really going to drag this out for stupid questions? He stood like a statue, the visor of his helmet felt like its gaze was trying to bore a hole through your skull. You stared at him, then to his hands, and last down to his blaster before looking back up to his visor. You watched as one leather gloved hand slowly made its way back up to your neck, giving it a firm squeeze like he had done before, but you wouldn’t fall for that trick a second time.

“Do it again.” came a rumbling voice from deep inside the beskar, but this time it was lower, more measured and full of something that made your heart do flip-flops in your chest. A sinful thought came to you, maybe you would be able to escape after all.

“You’re going to have to work for it, no more freebies” a sly smile crept over your face, earning a tilt of the helmet that made you feel like you were being inspected by a large bird. Your hands were still locked together, but you brought them both up anyway to wrap your fingers around the armored wrist that still leaned against your throat. Immediately his other hand went for the blaster and its barrel was trained on you in a heartbeat. “Easy...” you whispered  showing both of your raised palms in a sign of peace. He kept the blaster trained on you as you gently grabbed his wrist with both hands, pulling on it to guide it down the front of your shirt. When his hand reached your breast, you pushed his palm into the supple mound, rewarding him with another breathy sigh.

Something like a huff whispered out though his modulator, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the whirring of the ships innards, but you knew what you heard. The blaster in his other hand dipped away from you slowly before finding its spot back in its holster. Once it was safely away his free hand came up to grab at your other breast, earning him another encouraging sigh. Without letting go of the front of your shirt he carefully spun you away from the carbonite freezer and walked you backwards towards one of the supply crates that littered the hull until it bumped up against the back of your knees; prompting you to plop down on it. You leaned back, arching your bound arms over your head to give you some kind of leverage while he toyed with your breasts.

“Y’know they’re even more fun without the shirt.” you chided. The mandalorian took the hint and ghosted down to the hem of the tunic you had worn to blend in with the other farmers. It was thin and yielded easily as he pushed it up over your breasts, the flesh of your nipple puckering in the cool air of the ship. The shiny black of his visor never left your chest, only tilting side to side as he took both of them in. His leather gloves were soft and warm on your skin, gently pinching at your nipple and pulling on them just enough to cause your breast to bounce when he let go. He grabbed at the pillowy flesh, groping and rolling your sensitive buds between the knuckles of his pointer and middle fingers. All the while you made good on your word, making soft sighs to edge him on. Though you knew this was supposed to be your escape plan, you couldn’t help the way heated pooled in your belly, making you squeeze your thighs together and rock your hips. The armored man noticed the way you were squirming and let his hands wander down from your breasts to the hem of your canvas pants.

“Well? Don’t leave a girl waiting.” You rocked your hips up at his hands, trying to get him to take the hint. His expert hands that had wielded fierce weaponry so well now seemed to falter at what he was supposed to do next. His fingers were slow undoing the button and zipper as if he'd never taking someone else's clothes off before, before pushing them down until they were around your knees. The sudden hit of cool air made you instantly aware of just how hot you had become under his groping. You used your knees and heels to push your pants all the way off, kicking your muckboots off with them and opening yourself up for him to get a good look at you.

His body was stiff, the visor of his helmet staring down at your heat, he was so still you could swear he was holding his breath. Suddenly his gaze made you feel vulnerable, as if he didn’t like your display. You moved to start closing your legs when a strong hand shot out to grab your knee and hold it in place while he continued to gawk at you. He likes what he sees you realized, heat flushing to your face and your cunt. Again you rolled your hips from side to side, trying to entice him. What’s he waiting for?

“Please...” you gave him your best impression of a needy virgin and saw his shoulders immediately go even stiffer, the black visor snapping up to meet your eyes. “Take your gloves off.”

He cocked his helmet at you, and you were starting to get the hang of reading an unreadable face. “Just trust me, we’ll both enjoy it more.” At that he tugged the glove off of one hand and tossed it somewhere behind him in the ship, exposing bronze skin of a, thankfully, human hand. He reached down between your legs at the hot core of your body, slowly moving his fingers down your slit. You sighed and arched into his touch, begging with your body for something more tangible. His other hand came up to grab your thigh and steady you, but the hand tracing your heat was shy and ghostlike, almost like he wasn’t touching you at all. “Please Mando...” you begged again, hoping he would get the damn hint.

He pushed one finger experimentally into your folds, dragging the wetness that had accumulated there over your opening and making you hum for him. He moved from the bottom up until his calloused hand found the sensitive little nub you had been waiting for him to find. The roughness of his skin caused you to convulse and cry out, making him tear his hand away as if he’d been burned.

“It’s alright! Please touch me there.” Who is this guy? What’s he never seen a pussy before? You thought to yourself, surprised that such a big scary man would be so jumpy. You arched your back and was rewarded with his hands back where they belonged. He pushed his thumb up against your aching clit, drawing lazy circles with it while another finger began pushing its way inside you. This time you let out a ragged and dirty moan to let him know he was doing a good job. He pulled his thumb away from your engorged nub to push a second finger up in you, making you whine. He found a spot in you quickly that was starting to make you shake again, but this time he knew not to foolishly let go. Your legs were quaking, head lolling to the side and making those sinful sighs that you could tell he liked. He was getting you close, your muscles squeezing around his rough fingers as he worked you to your climax. When his thumb found your clit again you came undone, your cunt fluttering around his fingers with your orgasm. He rode it out with you, pushing up against the coiled muscle to milk every ounce of pleasure from you that you could give on his hands alone. You could feel your own cum leaking down your thighs and around his hand, now realizing how pent up you actually were. What a mess you would be.

You were nearly gasping but you knew you were far from spent. He pulled his hand from your dripping cunt and you watched him stare at the slick on his hands, sticking and unsticking his fingers just to watch the glimmering trails. Cute, you mused to yourself, he really might not have seen a pussy before.

“Alright, space cowboy, your turn.” You nodded towards the bulge that had made his baggy canvas pants grow tight, and he followed your gaze with what you guessed was surprise. “Let’s see what you’ve got in there, hmm?” With one last glance at the prize on his fingers, he took a moment to reach them up underneath the edge of his helmet, greedily getting a taste of you, before straightening up and undoing his own buttons. You were not prepared for the monster that flopped out of his pants, his cock full and engorged all the way to its hot red tip. Thick veins wound their way up its length and you swore you could see them pulse even from your vantage point on the crate. A soft drop of precum was already forming at the tip and you licked your lips involuntarily, feeling a fresh rush of heat pooling between your legs. “I’m all yours.”

The hunter grasped his aching cock and used his thumb to glide the precum up and down it’s length before he angled himself between your legs. You arched your hips to give him the best angle but he wanted to take his time. He dragged the head of his cock up and down the length of your slick opening, gathering the cum he had earned for himself. When he bumped up against your clit you moaned a breathy and sinful sound that made him shiver. He slid back down again and you pushed your hip towards him, forcing his tip to notch and he almost doubled over from the sensation, giving you a ragged groan in response.

“Did that feel good?” you asked, biting your lip with a devious sneer. “It’ll feel even better inside.” His gaze was fixed on where the two of you were connected, his hands like steel on your thighs. Another tilt of your hips was enough to turn the cogwheels of the metal man and he pushed his length into you with a shuddering gasp. Your own breath caught in your throat at the size of him breaking you open. He pulled himself back out achingly slow before thrusting into you again and earning himself another round of pleasured cries. It took him only a couple more thrusts to find his rhythm, bottoming out against your cervix with every thrust. Your head was cloudy and a fearsome heat was building in your belly, threatening to burst every time he pounded into you. You could hear him now, the once silent bounty hunter was panting ragged puffs of air and if it had been any cooler in the ship you swore you would have seen steam coming out of the helmets vents.

He slowed his feverish pounding just long enough to release one of your captured thighs and bring a thumb down to your clit, pushing against it in a way that was rougher than what you would have liked but nevertheless sent your head spiraling and forcing a pitiful mewl to escape your throat. It wasn’t long before another round of lightning crackled through your body and sent another orgasm crashing through you. The force of it made him choke and stuttered his perfect rhythm hard enough that he fell forward onto you. Your hands were still locked together but you wrapped them around his broad armored back as best you could, pulling him close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath coming out of the bottom of the helmet. He groaned and pushed his head into the crook of your neck before finding his filthy cadence again. He was close enough now that you could catch the scent of him, a mix of sweat and metal and gunpowder and something so primal it made your eyes flutter.

“Let me feel that again.” His ragged voice in your ear sent you spinning, and you could only answer with choked cries. The hand he had used to work you into a frenzy before now snaked it’s way up to your throat, giving it the exact gentle squeeze he had earlier that started this whole twisted tango. This time you gave him precisely what he was asking for, your tongue peeking ever so slightly past wet lips in between soft choked gasps. His pace quickened by your edging and his grasp tightened on your neck, drawing an ugly -urk- noise that had you patting his back in protest. To your relief he respected your gesture and let go of your neck entirely. Interesting...what a sweet, thoughtful murder machine he is. He grabbed ahold of the abused crate that held you both up and ground his hips into you, fucking you so hard you swore it would break. It wasn’t long before your overstimulated cunt gave him exactly what he asked for, crying out into the silence of the hull and clamping down around his cock.

That was the last thing he needed to push him over the edge. A few more messy thrusts and a modulated roar accompanied his climax while he pumped you full of cum. He pushed himself as deep as he could go and you felt his cum start to pour out of you, mixing with your own as it trailed down from the intersection of your bodies and onto the cold metal of the ships floor. You were both panting, his weight on you making it almost hard to breathe. With great difficulty you pulled your bound arms over top of him and dropped them back behind your head so he could get up, but he just laid on top of you while his cock slowly softened and released itself from you, sending a fresh wave of cum flooding down your legs.

Carefully he pushed himself up, grunting and groaning the whole way. He stumbled to his feet, resting an arm on one of the crates next to you to steady himself and the other on your quaking knee. You glanced down at him and was bemused to see his glossy black visor staring down at your dripping cunt. His hands made their way back to you, gently pushing at your folds to watch the delicious mess he had made trickle from you. You couldn’t hear much over the blood pounding in your ears, but you could have sworn he said something with fondness in a language you didn’t know.

Releasing you from his grasp he walked up your side, dragging his ungloved hand over your disheveled body, devouring your naked form with his visor like a starving man watches a feast. It was now that you remembered why you had let him fuck you in the first place, but your body was limp and your legs shaky. He ran his hands up your chest and over your exposed breasts, then up your arms, grabbing the magnetic cuffs he had put there. Great. Back to the carbonite chamber for me.

But instead your ears were graced with the metallic click of the unlocking mechanism and the restrictive cuffs clattered to the floor. You sat up immediately, rubbing at the bruises on your wrists and staring at your captor with mix of bliss and confusion.

“You’re letting me go?”

Mando was working to put his clothes back in order, the sound of belts and snaps shuffling into place echoed in the ships hull. “Last I heard you had fallen into a sarlacc pit on Tatooine. Can’t collect a bounty on the dead. Pity too, I’d heard you were such a great hunter.” The man who had been your captor was now leaning against the hull wall, his visor still locked on your mostly naked form. “You can go back to doing repairs on moisture farm equipment, or...” he tilted his helmet towards the back of the ship “You’re welcome to use the fresher.”

You blinked at his uncharacteristic generosity, though you supposed you didn’t actually know anything about him. Shifting off of the crate sent another gooey wave of cum dribbling down your legs and flushed your cheeks red. Maybe the fresher wasn’t a bad idea. The metallic man turned on his heel towards what you could only guess was the cockpit.

“Alright, but no peeking.” Like I could stop him. The thought made you laugh, it was his ship after all. You tossed what was left of your clothing onto the floor and made for the tiny alcove that passed as a bathroom and the even tinier shower; but the water was hot and that was enough. It had been so long since you had felt running water on your skin that you didn’t even hear the engines firing up and the rickety ship begin to take off. There was a bar of military grade soap on the ledge that you decided to help yourself to, it smelled surprisingly nice for something so plain. It smells like he does. You shook your head at the intrusive thought. It was just soap.

When you had finished your wash you stood in the fresher trying to squeegie water from your hair, now noticing the rumbling of the ship under your feet. Well, goodbye Tatooine I guess. The ugly dust ball had done you no favors, but this wasn’t exactly the way you had guessed you were getting off of it. He had set out to capture me, and he succeeded. He’ll probably grow tired of me and throw me in the carbonite anyway, so one way or another I would have ended up on this ship. You opened the shower door and saw something on the counter that hadn’t been there when you got in.

Two gray-brown towels were folded neatly on the fresher sink, as well as your clothing and something that looked like a black knit sweater. You hadn’t even heard the door to the fresher open, let alone him coming in to drop the items off.

“Sneaky Mando!” You hollered out into the darkness of the ship, though you guessed he probably couldn’t hear you from where he was at. The idea of him creeping in the bathroom to bring you a towel made you chuckle. “I told you not to peek!”

“I didn’t.” A modulated voice right in your ear made you jump backwards into the safety of the fresher.

“Fucksake man! Scare a girl to death why don’tcha?” You wrapped your towel tighter in indignation, surprised that your nudity would make you embarrassed after what had just happened between the two of you.

He sighed a long, exhausted sigh. “After you went rouge you took out three top tier bounty hunters and not once did you try to beg the guild to stop hunting you. There’s a pretty hefty price on your head, but I think your skills could be put to better use.” The Mandalorian cocked his head at you, “Think you can do that again?”

The audacity... You huffed and put your hands on your hips in a stance of mock fury. “So you kidnap me and now you’re going to put me to work? Great. Thanks pal. Really know how to take a girl out on a date, huh?”

He shrugged. “Do you want to go back to the carbonite freezer? I’m sure Karga would love to part with all those credits for your capture.”

No... No you did not want to go back to the freezer. You glared down at the floor with raised eyebrows, pretending like you were mulling over the idea like it was a job offer and not literally your only option.

“Alright... fine fine you talked me into it. Let’s go hunting, captain.” You snapped a damp hand out for him to shake, but he just shook his shiny metal dome in what you might have guessed was a laugh. He pushed himself away from the wall and climbed back up the ladder to the cockpit without a single word.

You watched as his boots disappeared into the ceiling and shook your head, wondering now if when you woke up this morning you had any idea that the day would take you on some wild bantha hunt though space with a well-hung mystery man. You tightened your towel and tucked back into the still steamy fresher to put on the clothes he had left you. The farming tunic was in a sad state, but the knit sweater looked snug and inviting. Pulling it over your damp hair your nose was flooded with that same delectable scent that you had gotten to indulge in earlier. When he was pressed into you.

“Hoo boy...” You finished getting dressed, rubbing your hair with one of the towels Mr. Mystery had left for you. I hope he’s got travel scrabble somewhere in this rust bucket, or you’re going to have to find some more... physical... activities to pass the time. Your lips turned up in a mischievous grin at the idea.

What a strange trip this will be.

Next ->

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #self insert #smut

[kikilefangirl]

Here To Stay

Sam Wilson x reader

(Reader is Tony Stark’s, and I cannot stress this enough, very GROWN adopted daughter, who was snapped during Infinity War. TFATWS spoilers ahead!)

(Word Count: 1k)

It was hot, muggy, and you couldn’t wait to get back in your bed at home after this.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s GPS had guided you to a small country house like only you’d seen in the movies. 

Before you could make it to the porch, three curious faces peaked out from the screen door. It was a woman and two kids. They scattered into the house’s interior as Sam Wilson stepped outside. 

He wore a thin, dark colored t-shirt and jeans. Sweat dripped from his brow, shining against the Louisiana sun. 

“Wrong house.” Sam announced. He had an easy half smile that hovered somewhere between curiosity and reluctance. You purse your lips, and cocked your head to the side.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, disable location. Falcon protocol, Redwing protocol. Voice activation authorized. Stark, Y/N.” You ordered. The AI replied and went to work, finally in proximity with the Falcon suit to do so.

Sam cautiously approached you, and snorted.

“Only Tony Stark’s child would come down here barking orders, wearing high heels on wet grass.” 

You glanced down at your pumps, “I always wear heels.” 

Your dad never expected anything less. Tony Stark was nothing if not flamboyant and you had taken after him in that respect.

“If you fall, I’m laughing.” Sam joked as he led you inside. To your credit, you were perfectly steady as you trudged through the grass and up the front steps. 

As the two of you settled into the living room, you got right to the point. 

“Steve gave you that shield, Sam.” You said, plainly. You were nothing if not blunt. You decided that it was a side effect of your last name, probably made worse after the snap. 

Sam shook his head and clasped his hands together. A thick vein pulsed on his temple as he formulated a response. It wasn’t humility or politeness—Sam didn’t seem like they type for either— it was shame. An intense shame. 

“They have their guy, now. So you can go on back home and leave well enough alone. Take a plate with you, my sister made it.” With his downturned eyes, jaw clenching and unclenching in the silence, Sam Wilson sat slumped in the chair. 

You slammed your palm on the wall, the sound piercing through the house. Like the soldier he was, Sam didn’t react to your outburst, but that didn’t stop you from going off. 

“The U.S. government can have your black ass in those wings running covert ops off the Libyan border with no paper trail, but they can’t let you keep that shield?”

Your question chipped away at Sam’s armor, applying the necessary pressure. You knew the feeling—the creeping thought at the back of your mind, the lingering worry that your best couldn’t compare. Sam’s face hardened after each word but he needed to hear them, especially from someone who could understand his plight.  

“You’re the big dog now, Wilson. Are you really gonna let them keep you the mantle you earned? When it wasn’t even theirs to give away?” You went on. Your heels clacked against the rickety hardwood as you paced back and forth. 

You swallowed hard, not letting the bitterness fester. You loved Morgan, and getting to know her after having been snapped and missing her whole life, was how you reconnected with the regular world. But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting when people wrote articles about how Tony Stark was survived by his wife Pepper, daughter Morgan, and no mention of you in there. 

“It doesn’t feel like mine.” Sam admitted. He kept staring straight ahead, you could see the thoughts swirling in his head. 

“It’s not theirs either, so fuck them and build your own legacy.” You said, matter of factly. 

You didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh. But ever since you came back, you had trouble self editing. To make up for it, you placed a reassuring hand on Sam’s shoulder.

He looked up at you so sincerely that it caught you off guard. His warm eyes were different than what you were used to—Sam radiated comfort, even when he was the one hurting the most. He gave you an unsure smile, but he was still leaning towards you. A strange feeling came over you as you felt the thick muscle underneath his shirt, making you snatch your hand away and straighten up. Heat rushed through your cheeks uncontrollably—you silently prayed he didn’t notice. 

“Um, uh, I have the shield’s location as well as the location of the one and only Bucky Barnes at the ready. The two of you have a tight window of opportunity, so take full advantage.” 

As you rambled on, Sam became less and less hopeless. Relief washed over his features, and it calmed you down, too. You had pierced through his resignation, and got him out of his head. 

He suddenly met your eyes with an apologetic gaze.

 “We didn’t speak at the funeral. I’m—”

“You weren’t my dad’s favorite person, either, Wilson.” You cut him off. His sympathy didn’t make you feel better. You had seen the Iron Man murals and memorials and tributes all across the globe and they hadn’t, either. But Sam’s admission did make you feel like a real person, and no one else’s sorry ever caught your attention for that.

You nodded at him. Sam smiled for real this time, and noticed how his gap was more pronounced up close.  It was a charming addition to an already handsome face.

“It’s a new world, and I’ve gotta do my part then.” He declared. There was a shift in him, a glimpse at what might have been optimism. 

“Then get dressed, we’ve got work to do.” You replied.

Sam shot you an amused glance, looking you up and down. You caught him in the act and smirked. As you turned on your heel and headed for the door, you couldn’t resist calling him out in it.

“Stop staring at my ass in here, stare at it on the plane. I’ll be in the car.”  

You smiled at the implication, imagining what Sam’s reaction was as you slipped out the door and back out into the world. 

He was right—it was a new world. And you needed to do something to move it along, starting by reconnecting the shield with its rightful owner.

#sam wilson #Sam Wilson appreciation #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson is captain america #tfawts #tfawts spoilers #tfawts fic #black!reader #poc!reader #woc!reader #marvel mcu #sam wilson x black!reader #imposter syndrome is real y’all #tony stark daughter #adopted!reader #stark!reader #Sam Wilson x Stark!reader #I love Bucky but stop flooding Sam’s tag pls #snapped!reader #the bougie bitch energy is immaculate I must say

[ben-barnes-is-my-husband]

Together We're Toxic

Billy Russo x Reader (you)

I wrote this for another fandom and I kept thinking how fitting it would be for Billy. So, I did some editing. *grin* Hope you like. Definitely explicit.

Billy Russo was not a man to be reckoned with. One would have thought that out of all people, you would know that. But then, you were no longer his girlfriend. You were his ex - a fact that he was not at all pleased about and planned to fix.

Tonight.

The club was hot, the music pumping. He could feel it through his body, an incessant beat. The club was dark even with the random mix of colored lights, and it smelled of sweat and perfume.

It felt like impending sex.

Some were going to get laid tonight. Some were hoping to. If all went according to plan, he definitely would be.

His eyes narrowed in on his target. On you. You were with a friend who wasn’t a fan of his all the time, and you had your hands clasped above your heads as bodies moved to the beat.

You and your friend were attracting attention from the men in the crowd, which was the point, and it pissed Billy off to know that this was probably what you did all those nights you wanted to go out with friends and “let off some steam.”

The sharks were circling closer and Billy’s jaw clenched as he took in the men whose faces he’d have to break later for staring at his woman with lust written all over their faces.

You were stunning, so it wasn’t like he could blame them. All that shiny hair that flowed down your back - he liked to wrap it around his hand when he fucked you from behind. And those eyes - they could look so wide and innocent, and then turn black as night when you made it clear you wanted him.

And your lips, those lips you painted red. You left streaks of it on his cock when you sucked it.

Your smile, fuck, your smile and your laugh, and the way you spoke so intelligently about everything. You were so fucking smart and he felt so fucking dumb next to you sometimes.

There was that little bit of Billy that worried you had partly broken up with him because of it. But he knew other things - things like how to change your oil, put in new brakes, and how to beat a man bloody for touching you.

Once, some asshole had groped your ass on the subway and he’d knocked the guy straight out. You’d blown him good and proper after that. He went nearly cross-eyed just thinking about how it felt when you took him down your throat.

Finally, you and your friend took a break from your frenetic dancing and one bold shark inched his way close to you. Billy held back from charging over and punching him dead in the face.

No one touched what was his. No one.

It was that sort of thing that you said was one of the reasons you broke up with him, and Billy had a funny feeling that your friends had something to do with that. You sure didn’t seem to mind when he got, as you put it, “growly and possessive”. And what really burned him is that you would get just as “growly and possessive” right back.

When an ex made contact with him to ask if he still had her hatchet, he’d ended up exchanging a few texts with her about how things were going. When you saw the text come through on his phone you’d simply grabbed your purse and walked out the door, claiming you were going for a ride. You didn’t return for three days and he had no idea where the fuck you went. When you returned you hugged him like no time had passed and nothing had happened. Then you whispered in his ear, “If you talk to her again I won’t come back next time.”

But then, was that worse than when he witnessed you smiling and laughing with someone you had dubbed your “work husband”, and he’d ended up locking you in the bedroom that night for two hours and not letting you leave?

Apparently, it was.

What about the time you slashed one of his tires when one of his (female) customers from Anvil asked for his number?

No one pointed fingers at you, but when he went a little mental and tossed your phone in the toilet, everyone was all up in arms.

Your twisted relationship was your business, and it wasn’t like Billy didn’t know it was twisted. You both were. You knew it, too. You were both passionate and fiercely in love with each other.

He knew you loved him. He <i>knew</i> that. It was in the little things you did - cuddling up to him on the couch, making him dinner (when you had the time), and trimming his hair and beard for him. You also held him and loved him when he needed you the most. And he always, always needed you.

And he took care of you. He changed your oil when it needed it, rubbed your feet at night and listened when you complained about work. He offered to take a few co-workers out for you, which always made you laugh even though he was only half-joking about that.

You were both better together than apart. There was only one woman for him on this godforsaken planet and that was you. And there wasn’t another him that could give you what you needed. He felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. Little freak that you were.

You and your friend shooed the men away and headed for the bar, giggling together. While you and your friend planted yourself on one side of the freestanding bar, Billy made his way to the other side. He made room for himself, much to the annoyance of the guy beside him.

“Hey!” the guy protested when some of his drink spilled over the side from Billy hitting it with his elbow.

Billy just looked at him in the way you claimed could make grown men “piddle on the rug.” The guy certainly appeared as if he just might. He picked up his drink and walked off quickly.

Then, Billy leaned on the bar, elbows on top and stared at you, willing you to look his way. It was your friend who saw him first. She made a face and nudged you, pointing at him.

When you looked his way, your mouth fell open and you met his gaze. When the shock wore off, he caught the hint of something in your eyes. Something he knew quite well from having spent almost two years with you: excitement.

You covered it quickly with a look of annoyance and said something to your friend that made her frown, but then your friend nodded and you started around the bar.

Feeling pretty victorious, Billy pushed away from the bar and smirked at your friend who glared at him. Good, let her be pissed. You could no more stay away from him than he could stay away from you.

He moved away from the bar and inched toward the hallway where the bathroom and the back entrance was located. He had a plan after all.

You stormed up to him, fire blazing in your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” he drawled. “You didn’t think I’d let this breakup stand, did you?”

“You didn’t fight me when I ended it.”

Was it his imagination or did you sound upset about that?

“You changed the locks and put all my shit out on the lawn. You also called Frank for backup. What was I supposed to do?”

“Just...go.” Now you sounded sad. Defeated. “Leave me alone, Billy. It’s over.”

He grabbed your arm. “No.”

You yanked your arm from his grip. “Don’t manhandle me.”

“Come outside with me,” he said, changing tactics. He fully intended to manhandle you and though you might protest at first, he knew what a little freak you were and what got you hot. You’d be putty in his hands in no time. But for now, you needed to act like you didn’t want him there. Maybe you even had yourself partly convinced of that. Billy knew better though.

“Why should I? What for?” you asked.

“Just to talk. I think I deserve a conversation that doesn’t involve Frank, don’t you think?”

You pursed her lips together and studied him with suspicious eyes. He didn’t move. Just waited. Finally, you sighed. “Fine. Let me tell Friends Name.”

He nodded, smiling inwardly and pointed to the hall. “I’ll be waiting for you right there.”

“Fine, Billy.”

“And don’t think about ditching me,” He warned you. “I will find you.”

Your lips parted and you turned on heel quickly and stalked off. Oh, you wanted this. He knew it.

Five minutes later, you were outside in the cool air and you shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself. It was your fault for wearing a sleeveless top - his favorite one, too. Red and low cut, it was gorgeous on you and easy to get off.

“Why don’t we sit in the car so you’re not cold,” he suggested, pointing to his black Porsche behind you.

You turned, dropping your arms, and he grabbed the handcuffs in his jacket pocket and hurriedly cuffed one wrist. You started to turn back, looking down at your wrist. “Hey--”

But he had you cuffed before you could finish that sentence.

“Billy!” you exclaimed. “What are you dozing?”

“I told you I wouldn’t let this stand. You’re mine.”

Your eyes widened and you made to run.

You didn’t get far. Billy was on you quick enough and managed to wrap both arms around you from behind. With your wrists cuffed in the front, you couldn’t move in the bear hug he was giving you.

“You’re hurting me!”

Doubtful. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way,” he muttered in your ear. “You either come with me or I use the chloroform I have in my pocket.” It was a lie; he didn’t have any.

“How the hell did you get--”

“Hard way or easy way?”

“I hate you,” you hissed.

“No, you don’t. I’ll prove it.”

“I could scream,” you snarled.

“No one would hear you over that music.”

He pushed you to his car gently, wrapping one hand around your forearm lest you get any ideas about running off.

You cursed him the whole way and Billy just smiled. He opened the backdoor of his car once they reached it. “Lay down.”

“Why do I have to lay down?”

He gestured to the rope you’d not yet seen on the floor of the car. You cursed him again and got in. “Don’t even think of kicking me either,” he told you. “Or the chloroform comes out. Heard it gives one a nasty headache. Plus, who knows what I’d do to you all tied up.”

“You’re disgusting and you’re going to pay for this,” you snapped.

He licked his lips. “I certainly hope so.”

You laid down on your side with some help and when he was sure you were comfortable - because he didn’t want you hurt after all...well, not much anyway. He tied up your ankles with the rope while you glared at him mutinously.

With a triumphant smirk, he moved your feet out of the way of the door and shut it. He then climbed in the car and started it up.

“My friends will look for me, ya know,” you said.

“They won’t find you.”

“Where are you taking me?” you demanded.

“To the cabin.”

“Fuck,” you muttered.

He grinned as he pulled out of the club parking lot. “That’s right. The cabin in the middle of the woods where you can scream all you want and no one will hear you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah,” he drawled, “But you love me anyway.”

You fell silent and Billy smiled. Your silence said it all; you did still love him.

It was a forty-five minute drive to the cabin and after letting you sulk for a while, he finally asked, “Why did you do it?”

“Why did I do what?” you asked innocently.

“You know what,” he growled.

You sighed. “I’m handcuffed and I’ve got ropes around my ankles. Do you really have to ask? Do you think this is normal?”

“It’s our normal,” he said with a shrug.

“Maybe I don’t want it to be.”

“Or maybe you’re too busy listening to your friends tell you how our relationship should be.” He took his eyes off the road to turn and look down at you. You looked almost pitiful on the seat looking up at him and he had a moment’s regret. Just a moment though.

He looked back at the road. “You get off on our games.”

“Is that what we’re calling them? Games?”

“What would you call it?”

“Unhealthy. Twisted.”

He laughed. “Oh, You. You’ll never not be twisted. And I’m the only one who can match all that fire inside you.”

“Maybe I don’t want that anymore. Maybe I want normal. Maybe I want someone like Frank who--”

“Don’t mention his fucking name to me,” he growled. “He’d bore you in a week. We’re here.”

One of your friends had tried to introduce you to a “nice boy” who wore Dockers and white tennis shoes and actually played tennis, and You had kept it from him until he’d overheard you talking to that friend on the porch one night. When he’d confronted you about it, you’d hedged until he threatened to ask your friend himself. You’d told him, and in retaliation he’d dragged you into the house and tied you to the bed and proceeded to make you come and come and come until you begged for him to stop.

You had clung to him so sweetly, mewling in his ear. Screaming. Telling him again and again how you loved him and only him.

He cut the engine and stepped out of the car. He made his way around to the back and you sat up and he maneuvered you out and over his shoulder. The wind blew, causing your black skirt to blow over your ass and he slapped it. “That’s my ass,” he told you. “Remember that.”

The cabin was his. A place he had built with his bare hands. A place for him to seek refuge from the world when he needed it. Then when he had met you, it had become yours and his. Long weekends were spent here when you both felt the need to get away, just hiking, making love, and doing domestic things that he wasn’t very used to doing, but rather...enjoyed?

You could both be normal. You were both “normal” more than you weren’t so he didn't know what the fuck you were on about. Sure you both had your moments, but it wasn’t always like that.

The cabin had three rooms - the living room and kitchen rolled into each other, and then there was the bedroom off the kitchen, and a bathroom attached to the bedroom.

Billy stepped inside to the kitchen and carted you over against the far wall and placed you down on the lumpy couch with the maroon sofa covering. You fell to the side and then righted yourself and glared up at him.

“You gonna run if I let you loose?” he asked.

God, he hoped you did. He wanted to chase you down, throw you on the ground and fuck you in the open air. His dick was hard just thinking about it. You glanced down quickly at his crotch and then back up at him. You looked angry, but he caught the twinkle there. “What do you think?” you asked.

Okay, so, you needed to warm up a bit first. Work up to it. He was game.

“I think we still got wine in the fridge from last time we were here,” he said. “You want some?”

“You gonna roofie me?”

“No, of course not.”

“I mean, you did threaten to chloroform me--”

“And you know as well as I do that I wouldn’t. Even if i did have it, which I don’t.” He did though. Somewhere. Just not on him.

You lifted your chin. “What’s your plan then? Keep me cuffed and bound all weekend?”

“Well, that all depends on you.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Oh?”

“Yeah, all depends on how long it takes you to get your head out of your ass and realize you belong with me.”

“I don’t--”

He bent down and placed his hand at the back of your neck and drew your face to his. He kissed you deeply, wanting you to just shut up.

You didn’t kiss him back at first, but then he felt you melt by degrees. You moaned and Billy went down to his knees, filling his hands with your face as he kissed you. “Stop fighting me,” he muttered against your mouth. “You love me.”

“Billy--”

“Say it, You. Say you love me.”

Your eyes welled up in tears. “I do,” you croaked. “I love you.”

“Say you’re mine.”

You sniffled. “I’m yours.”

He kissed you again and you swayed into him, pressing your chest against him. “Billy,” you muttered. “Let me go. I can’t touch you like this.”

He fumbled, panting, for the key to the handcuffs. He managed to fish it out of his jeans and with shaking hands undid the cuffs. Then he fumbled with the rope, and with your help you were free. He pulled you to her feet with him and kissed you. “I need you,” he gasped. “I need inside you.”

You stepped back a few feet, smiling, and whipped off your top. You threw it at him and it hit him right in the face.

You used that distraction to rush right past him and out the door.

He roared, his dick pressing hard against his jeans. Game. On.

You didn’t get far. Just by the car. You were on the other side of it when he approached and when he went to the right, you went to the left. You both stopped. Stared at each other.

“You’re a little brat,” he told her. “I should take you over my knee.”

“Don’t you wish you could?” you taunted him and jetted to the right. He ran around the car, and you squealed and ran off to the woods. He was smiling, beaming really. This was just what he’d expected and you’d almost had him; he’d almost thought you were just going to capitulate without any game this time, but he should have known better. You were always up for a good game.

You were like a sprite running through the woods and Billy kept his gaze steady on you, while mindful of where he was stepping so as not to trip. He finally managed to graze your arm by a thick oak tree and you squealed again and darted around it.

He could hear your breathing from the other side and he forced himself to go still and quiet. Then you did as well. He waited.

The wind blew, a cool breeze that rustled the leaves and branches. Animals deep in the forest made noise, reminding you they were there. The moon was nearly full and cast light down through the trees. The clouds in the sky were moving quickly by and stars twinkled above them.

He was harder than he’d ever been and he swore he could smell your heat from where he stood on the other side of the blasted tree.

You popped her head out and said, “Boo!” and then made to run off. This time, you wouldn’t get far. He was on you quickly enough and you let out a playful scream as he managed to catch you and push you against another tree. You winced and he pulled you away from it.

“You hurt?” he asked, panting.

“I don’t think so,” you said breathlessly.

He spun you around to check. Just a little red where the bark touched your bare skin. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to one red mark, then another and another and you melted yet again into him.

He went down to his knees and forced you down with him. He pushed you and you planted your hands on the ground.

“You gonna to act like a bitch, I’m gonna to fuck you like one,” he grunted.

“Oh, God, yes,” you breathed.

He pushed your skirt up over your backside and tore your panties from your body.

“Billy,” you moaned.

He wrestled with the snap of his jeans and the zipper and then he shoved them and his boxers down and spit in his hand. He stroked himself and then used two fingers to check just how wet you were.

You were soaked. Just as he thought you would be. He fucked you with his fingers until you screamed and then he pulled his fingers out and slammed his cock inside you.

“Fuck! Yes!” you screamed.

He licked your wetness from his fingers and then slapped your ass hard. You cried out and he gripped your hips, knowing he’d leave fingerprints, knowing you’d love to see them in the morning.

“Come for me again, you little bitch,” he rumbled. “I want you dripping all over me.”

He reached out and wrapped his hand around your hair and yanked your head back. “Fuck me back,” he ordered.

You did, grunting and moaning.

“Fuck me harder, asshole!” you shouted.

He did, bottoming out inside you, bumping right against your cervix.

You screamed and your walls pulsed around him, milking him. He let go with a roar, unable to hold on. You’d had him aching for you the minute he’d stepped into that fucking club and saw you.

Billy slumped over her and pressed a weak kiss in between your shoulder blades. “I love you,” he gasped. “Fucking hell, I love you so much.”

“I love you,” you said, breathless.

Billy pulled out of you with a groan and did himself back up. He got to his feet while you staggered to yours. He drew you into his arms and kissed you hard.

You kissed him back just as hard and hand-in-hand you walked back to the cabin. You showered together, laughing softly, and caressing each other gently. Billy took you to bed after and he made love to you slowly, sweetly, until you cried out softly. He held you wrapped close in his arms as you began to doze off.

“Mine again?” he asked softly.

“I always have been,” you murmured. “And I always will be.”

Satisfied, Billy drifted off into a sound sleep.

And when he woke up in the morning, he found you gone…

And himself handcuffed to the bed.

***I know it would not fit for Billy to not wake up to getting handcuffed, but just go with it. It's needed for the second part.

#billy russo #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #ben barnes #punisher #marvel

[whereflowersbloom]

La tendresse

She wakes with sunlight bright in her face, body aching all over and a slight headache. She felt like she might vomit but swallowed it down. She had been worse off before from a little wine sickness and survived. Rhachel sat up slowly, closing her eyes when the world tilted dangerously. When she figured she was steady enough, she opened them again.

The sun was streaming in through her open window, painting pinks and orange hues in the sky. Though the shadow led her to believe it was later than she normally woke. How long had she slept? It’s usually the birds that woke her up, their chirping a sweet melody that reminded her of homeland or the warm, familiar sensation of Damian’s lips wandering the curves of her body. She looked around, and spotted a flower on the little table next to the bed along with a breakfast tray of something. There were a few thick slices of Ma’rouk bread, some figs and grapes, and something that looked like rice custard.

She picked up the white rose, noticing the little card tied to the stem with a delicate silver ribbon. ‘To my lovely Princess of thorns, this flower pales in comparison to your beauty and grace. I’ll come find you after my council meeting. With fondness Damian.” Immediately a smile was curving her lips and all she could think about was her Damian. ‘Love can blossom over time just as it can capture you in a single breathe’ Lady Z had told her once before coming to the land of Sand for the tourney. One moment with him had been enough to set her world ablaze. His eyes like wildfire ignited her soul and engulfed her completely in the flames of ardor.

The first fingers of the coming winter caressed her bare legs, a false spring giving way to chill. The thin robe she wore did little to help her chill from the open window, the ivory satin clinging to her torso and hips but providing no heat. The last days of autumn brought a freezing cold breeze and even behind the safety of the red mountains, the blistering hot deserts of Nanda Parbat were not safe.

Soon it would be winter and it meant her seven and ten nameday was coming as well. Much had changed since she married Damian, she thought dropping her hands to the soft curve of her belly. Almost unnoticeable but there was no doubt a life was growing inside her womb.

The reason of her morning sickness became obvious after the imperial physician asked when was the last time she bled. She had not bled for two moons, she realized then. There had been a look of such happiness on Damian’s face when she told him the wonderful news and suddenly he was the sun itself. Radiating joy the same way as the colossal star did warmth.

She proceeded to eat her breakfast slowly, keeping almost all of it it down despite her stomach protesting. Kori was missing at the moment. Perhaps she was letting her take a rest from court. Nonetheless, she still had duties to attend that could not be ignored. Just as she was finishing her meal, someone knocked on her chamber’s door.

“Come in.” She replied, assuming it was Kori and preparing to greet her. The door groaned when it swung open, protesting. To her surprise, she met familIar green eyes she knew too well.

Damian.

“Awake now?” He murmured with an slightly amused expression. Her cheeks warming faintly at his question.

“The babe seems to be restless just like his father.” She pressed a hand to her stomach where she imagines their child to rest. After a brief moment she asks. “Is the council meeting over?”

“I left for a moment.” Damian said with a twinge of disappointment as he was reminded they still had much to discuss. He parted his lips as if to speak, but closed it again, thinking carefully of his words as he didn’t want to stir her emotions. “I wanted to spend time with you before I ride north with Jon.”

Her chest tightened painfully. Damian was riding with Jon up the snowy Kunlun mountains to distribute thick garments and goods for the less fortunate. She tried to remain neutral and collected as the crown princess she was, but her voice faltered, betraying her distress. “You could take me with you.”

“I do not want to risk your good health.” Damian shook his head lightly, the tension evident on his clenched jaw. He understood that she did not went to part from him but given her condition. It was best his wife stayed in the capital as he could not risk his heir. “Conner and Jayson will stay behind to protect you.”

The thought that this child in her womb could die sent jolts of heartache through her bosom. She just nodded, shaking off such dark thoughts.

Even if she was raised to be dutiful queen, it took her some time after marrying into the Al Ghul house to understand such a responsibility bore a heavy weight. Watching her every step as Damian assured there were enemies between them at court. Life was filled with rules and expectations she was if being frank unprepared for.

“Come lay with me.” She pleaded gently, reaching out an arm and patting the empty space next to her. She was far too tired to do much else.

Promptly, Damian kicked the door shut behind him. Ghosting to the large bed, climbing on before lying next to his wife. She nestled close to him, enjoying the warmth he provided, letting her head fall to the side to admire his face, and he did the same, those otherworldly indigo eyes bright and alive, burning with pure devotion.

“I’ll think of you every day we are apart.” Damian grasped her left hand, kissing the palm. “Both of you.” He added as one of his hands slid to the swell of her belly, stroking it tenderly.

His fingers travelled up, ghosting along her jaw until he's cupping her face, like she’s fragile and precious, a treasure to be hoarded. Damian was a generous and passionate lover, mouth moving over hers tenderly only pausing to whisper words of love and reassurance. She reacted instinctively, responding in kind to his probing tongue.  

“I love you.” She breathed against his mouth. Damian’s expression softened, and for a beat he looks younger, much more like a simple young man in love than the future ruler of the Nanda Parbat.

He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder, a gentle caress of his lips on her skin. “You are my queen, Rae. My only queen.“ His words achingly soft and genuine.

“After the babe is born. I promise to take you to Siodonna.” He murmured against her neck, his warm breath sending chills down her spine.

The word piqued her Interest. Damian had mentioned it several times while narrating tales of his ancestors and foreign lands he wished to explore. It’s said to be so beautiful it took your breath away. The Homeland of his grandmother, lady Shyla, who came from the tribe of Four Winds. Faraway land of the gray wind and freedom. The city of Sidhe rumored to be built high in the sacred mountains of Rudrà.

“Truly?” Rhachel asked with glee in her voice. She covered her mouth with her hand to hide a hearty laughter when Damian nodded solemnly.

Oh Gods, how she longed for the freedom to roam where she pleased with her husband. To have some time for themselves away from court and royal duties. It won’t be long. It won’t be long before their babe is born.

He gazed at her, his expression bore a twinkling smile. “You have my word.”

“You wish for a boy or girl?” The question slipped past unguarded lips. She never worried about the gender of her child before but the Azarathian queens gave birth to girls as the mystical gifts were inherited only by women. Perhaps Damian wanted a son as any ruler wanted a male heir.

His brows raised at the sudden question. For a beat appeared to be genuinely considering how to answer when he merely shrugged. “A healthy child.”

“Damian...” She pressed as nervousness palpitated in her chest. Chewing on her lower lip as she usually did when distressed. “What if it’s a girl?”

His furrowed his brows. “What would you like to name it if it’s a girl?” It shouldn’t have surprised her that he wanted to have her opinion on the name, but it did. She hadn’t thought about it.

“Manon.” The young woman answered. Would Damian like the name for their child? She envisioned a little girl with silver tresses and golden skin as the sun’s rays, and bright emerald eyes as the man she loved. “In my homeland it means blessed child.”

Damian smiled in content. “Our child is surely a blessing.”

“If it’s a boy, you can name it.” She ventured.

Damian breathed out a sigh. “Grandfather would want a strong name like Ra’ miel.” Rhachel immediately frowned. She was not entirely sure she wanted their child named after a past Al Ghul king as some of them did not have particularly great reigns. His green eyes flicked down to her belly, fingers caressing fondly and his smile widened. “We can think of one together when the times comes.”

“Boy or girl, it does not matter.” Damian’s orbs were twin pools of tenderness and awe. He tapped the tip of her nose affectionately. “I shall love any child you bear.”

A radiant smile graced Rhachel’s features, heart overflowing with joy at the declaration. The future seemed more hopeful, the weight of worry lifted off her chest. Damian was right; it did not matter if she gave birth to a boy or girl. This was the fruitful result of their love and sole heir to the Al Ghul throne. . Azar please grant your protection to this child of mine, the princess prayed in silence, her hand on her abdomen.

Yooooo. Have some damirae dorm your favorite teacup. 👀👀👀👀

I wrote this sleep-deprived so there’s probably mistakes but I’ll edit soon. This is for the damirae week.

Babies and Damirae fluff and shadows of thorns. Clarifying this is not a chapter but a Spin-off. I tried to avoid including spoilers. 🙈🙈🙈💜💜

@chromium7sky @carnationmilk @tweepunkgrl @amethyst-witch-05 @ravenfan1242 @opheliawillowbrook @alerialblu

#creative writing #damirae #damirae week 2021 #damian al ghul #raven roth #jon kent #jason todd #talia al ghul #ra’s al ghul #conner kent #batfamily #dc fandom #dc universe #historical au #the author is way too tired to type #no beta or editor we die like robins #robrae #damian wayne

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Healthy Competition***

Regé-Jean Page x Reader x Trevor Noah

Warning: Cursing. SMUT. Threesome. NSFW AT ALL. DP. Oral.

Words: 5k

Summary: Non-Covid world. End of Summary.

Note: I cannot be stopped. This is my first dip into either of these two on here. I tried to talk myself out of this, but I have no self-control. This is probably an acquired taste, but fuck it, I wrote this for my sanity.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy this.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG ❤️❤️

 **Loosely Edited/Proofread**

 **Slightly Interactive**

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

 “A toast to Regé, our good friend who we’re out celebrating tonight. Every guy should hide their girlfriends tonight because Mr. Steal your girl has arrived,” Trevor teased.

 Regé snorted and dropped his head back, laughing at his friend of almost ten years. He was absolutely ridiculous.

“Mate, you think you’re hilarious, don’t you?”

 Trevor shrugged, “I mean, I am the comedian here, so--.”

 He shook his head. “You’re not a very good one,” he teased back.

 “Well, your tastes are slightly askew than the rest of the world. You are British after all,” Trevor quipped, making him and their shared friends bust out laughing.

 “Oh, shut up. You’re the only one who has a problem with me being British, though we all know my Zimbabwean side would outperform your watered-down South African any day. The ladies prefer full strength over all else,” he slid home.

 Trevor laughed loudly, slinking to the side as he snickered. He knew he had him but knew Trevor would have some comeback. This was their usual banter.

 “Why do I smell a wager coming on? I feel like you’re saying you can get any woman in here to choose you over me.”

 He knocked back his drink with a smile. “Maybe I am saying it.”

 He watched Trevor gulp down his drink as their friends looked at each other with a cautious eye.

 “All right, enough. Y'all remember the last time this happened,” Adam interjected.

 “The last time? How about every time,” Marcus added before he took a sip from his glass.

 “Remember that girl in Brazil, that one we met on Ipanema Beach, she owned the beach shack,” Adam reminded.

 He remembered, and a few seconds after he did, he saw when Trevor did. His snickers returned.

 “There was nothing wrong there,” Trevor pointed out.

 “Yeah, because you won, proceeded to rub it in all night.”

 “You couldn’t even bother to close the door of the shack. You just wanted me to hear her,” he said, shaking his head as the memory washed over him.

 They’d gone back and forth with her all night. Each of them laid their game out, charmed her, put in their best work. He went to grab them all another round of beers and came back, and her small shack was shaking as her moans filled the night sky. Trevor’s laugh brought him out of his thoughts, making him roll his eyes.

 “See, that’s why we’re not doing this,” Marcus finished.

 “You’re not still salty about that, Regé, are you?”

 He shook his head and raised his hands. “Not at all. you win some, and lose some.”

 “One day, the two of you are going to pull this on someone who will make you two the competition,” Adam professed, making he and Trevor laugh.

 “It’s not like we swindle anyone, there is consent, and everyone knows what to expect and not expect,” he threw out as he stood.

 “Where you going?”

 “Refill,” he said, holding his glass up to show its empty state.

He walked out of their section of the VIP area toward the VIP bar slipping through the crowd, making sure to not bump into anyone. When he was mere steps from the bar, someone bumped him from behind, sending him lunging forward, knocking into the back of someone else. He heard a gasp and automatically thought he’d spilled someone’s drink. Sliding beside the stranger, he leaned closer.

 “I’m so sorry.”

 You turned to him, pulling an oversized candy cane from your mouth. Instantly his eyes dropped to your mouth and that candy cane that slowly revealed itself to be several inches long. When he clocked that it was about seven inches or so that you’d pulled out of your mouth, he lost every single thing he was thinking, even his bloody name.

 “Mmm, almost went too far,” you said, with a smile before you put the tip of the candy cane into your mouth. He instantly wanted to put something too far.

 He watched you raise your glass to your lips before you put it back to the bar’s surface, and in went the candy cane. He was speechless, and it was something that rarely happened.

 “Uh—I’m—sorry.”

 You smirked and swiveled the stool to face him again and perched the candy cane to the side of your plump painted lips, and spoke. “You said that already.”

 The way the red, white, and green colors of the candy cane looked with your lipstick made him wonder how other things looked with it. Clearing his throat, he looked away to behind the bar where all the bottles of liquor rested. He wasn’t trying to decide on what he wanted to drink. He was trying to gain some composure.

 He heard your snort beside him. “Cat got your tongue?”

 He looked to you, zeroed in on your eyes, and rose a brow. “What’s got your tongue?”

 You smiled slowly, then pulled out that damned candy cane making your lips make that juicy puckered kiss sound.

 “This candy cane at the moment.”

 You stared at him as if silently daring him to say something to it. He smiled and nodded his head. “You brought a candy cane to a club?”

 “It came with the drink,” you said, bringing the confection to the red-tinted liquid before you.

 He watched you stir the liquid and return the candy cane to its rightful place—against your tongue for you to lick it slowly. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him. It was a damn candy cane.

 “What can I get you?”

 Before he could speak, you did.

 “You look like a fun guy no matter what that crisp accent says. May I?”

 He studied you for a few moments, then shrugged before he motioned for you to go ahead. You trailed the candy cane along your bottom lip as you looked over the bottles that lined the wall. You looked like you were in deep thought, and he made a note of how adorable you looked with your perfectly crinkled eyebrows, pursed lips, and fist resting on your jaw.

 “Okay, I just need to know two things,” you began.

 He smirked and sat on the stool next to you. “And what is that?”

 You turned to him again. The crossing of your legs brought his eyes down to see the tempting split in the dress you wore. The luster of your skin raised the temptation he was feeling. He imagined how his hand looked on your body. It was the wrong thought at the wrong time because it made it impossible for him to look into your eyes again. He did, though, and when he did, he saw the mischievous glint in your eyes. He knew then, you were dangerous.

 “Your name and favorite color.”

 “Why my favorite color?”

 “If you tell me red, chances are you like strawberry undertones. If blue, maybe a blueberry or blackberry.”

 “What if it’s orange?”

 “Then we should end this conversation now and go our separate ways because no one can pull off orange anything.”

 He snorted and laughed. He liked you.

 “Safe to say red is yours?” he nodded to your drink as his clue.

 “Wrong, but this is about you. So tell me.”

 “Regé and grey.”

 Your eyes widened. “Regé as in reggae music?”

 He nodded but didn’t speak.

 “Wow, nice. I thought it was something stuffy like Albert.”

 “Just ’cause I’m British?”

 You smiled and shrugged. “And your favorite color, Regé, is grey.” I’m tempted to say grey isn’t a color, but okay. He’ll have that fifty shades of grey cocktail you tried to give me earlier.”

 “Uh-oh, something fruity, huh.”

 “Let’s add an extra shot for Mr. adventurous,” you added.

 Turning his attention to you, he licked his lips and watched you devour that candy cane.

 “What’s your name?”

 You smiled and pulled the candy out of your mouth. “Y/N.”

 He held his hand out for yours and waited for you to take it. Once you did, he shook it, never taking his eyes off of yours.

 “You’re beautiful,” he said.

 You didn’t speak for several moments, and he wondered if he should have kept that to himself.

 “Yes,” you said.

 “Yes? Yes, what?”

 You sucked the candy cane back into your mouth and took a sip of your drink. “Yes, I’ll let you buy me another drink.”

 Ten minutes came and went, then fifteen, and he was in no hurry to go back to his friends. Your conversation was entertaining and titillating. You held his attention easier than any other had. Not to mention everything you did had his heart pounding. Once you’d finished that damn candy cane, your glass was what brought his attention to your mouth. When the drinks were finished, his eyes roamed your exposed shoulders, cleavage, and thigh until his palms itched to touch.

 “I see what’s been holding you hostage, over here.” Trevor’s hand rested on his shoulder as he stood to there to his left.

 “Hostage? Hardly,” you responded with a smile.

 “I’m Trevor,” he said, holding his hand out to you.

 After a few seconds, you took it and let him shake it.

 “Trev here is a good friend of mine,” he began before taking a sip of his third drink. “Meet Y/N.”

 Trevor smiled again. “What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

 He couldn’t help but smile. He knew the game had begun. However, he’d had a twenty-minute head start. He watched Trevor order you another drink before suggesting you moved from the bar to go back to their section. You didn’t answer right away, and he didn’t know what you’d decide.

 “I’ll meet you there. I have to freshen up,” you said, pointing toward where the restrooms were.

 He pointed to where their section was before you walked off.

 “May the best African win,” Trevor said, holding out his hand, making him roll his.

  ~~~~~~~

 -Y/N-

You made sure to reapply your lipstick and rearrange your hair as you inspected your face. Pleased that your products were holding up, you stood there just staring at yourself, making a plan. They thought they were slick, you thought to yourself.

 MSG Fifi: He looked hooked.

 You smirked.

 MSG: He’s hot.

MSG Fifi: So is his friend. What’s the plan?

 You thought for a few moments because you hadn’t decided yet.  

 MSG: I’m going to go have a little fun. I’ll let you know.

 You adjusted your dress then walked out of the bathroom. In the loud club again, you looked around, trying to remember when they’d pointed. You didn’t remember. Suddenly you felt a body behind you and a hand on your hip.

 “Lost?”

 The sexy British accent told you just who it was. Smiling, you bit your bottom lip, deciding you liked how he felt pressed up on you.

 “What if I said I was?”

 You could feel his breath at your ear and smell the hint of grape and vodka.

 “I’ll find anything you want me to,” Regé groaned, making you tilt your head back to look at him over your shoulder.

 “Anything?”

 He smirked then licked his lips. “I’m not if not a gentleman. Anything, Y/N.”

 The look in his eyes had you frozen in place, wishing he’d bring his large hand lower. You scoffed and got yourself under control

 “Good to know,” you said before walking away, leaving him to follow behind you.

 Once Regé led you to the VIP section, Trevor stood holding your drink to you. Having not been born yesterday, you asked a passing waitress for a fresh drink. Neither of them took offense. When you sat, you were in the middle of both men and able to appreciate the beauty that you both were. They could have passed for brothers, and when they assured you that they weren’t, you relaxed a little more.

 After an hour, you’d learned quite a few things about both men. You leaned that while Regé had this overwhelming sensual vibing coming off him, he tended to hang back physically, but his eyes were all intensity, and you could tell he preferred words. When it came to Trevor, he approached things differently. He was a flirt through and through, and you could tell he preferred touch.

 They were both like opposite sides of a coin, and you couldn’t decide which side you preferred. Some days called for heads and others tails. One thing was sure; they were both feeling you, and neither of them could hide it. It was in the way Trevor touched you with sly touches and in the way Regé reacted when you went close to him to whisper something or bit your bottom lip.

 Two hours and countless drinks later, you still sat there with the two men, and you’d all but made up your mind. Regé leaned to you and whispered in your ear before he met your eyes. Nodding, you took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. Once you got to a semi-secluded spot, the song changed to Teyana Taylor’s new school version of Tell me what you Want, and you watched him bop to the beat while keeping on point. You were impressed.

Regé spun you around, so your back pressed to his chest and his hands wrapped around you. he smelled incredible, almost as incredible as he felt. That was when your movements synced together and slowed. You were now swaying from side to side. You began circling your hips against him and let him hold your hands in the air as you got into it. Regé came to your ear and whispered.

 “Tell me what you want.”

 Your panties were instantly wet. Fuck, you thought. In front of you, you watched Trevor approach the two of you. Once he was in front of you, the song changed again, and the slowest, sexiest tune came on. The lights in the club changed to a deeper hue of red. Trevor came so close that his face was just inches from yours. His hand wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you against him.

 Goddamn, you thought as he moved your body how he wanted it. Your eyes met, and Trevor’s hand clasped your jaw in his large but soft hand. Slowly he slid his hand across your skin before you felt a hand on your hip spin you around. Your back was now pressed to Trevor’s chest while Regé was the one who was now inches from your lips.

 The two men sandwiched you between them, each focusing on different parts of you. Trevor’s hand was wrapped around your abdomen, searing absentminded circles on the material of the dress you wore, while Regé’s was squeezing your hip, sinking in his fingertips, so they marked you. Trevor’s jaw pressed to your ear, which Regé’s was resting against your cheek on the other side of your face. You doubted anyone could tell where you began and either of them stopped. When you felt a pair of lips press against your right ear, your breath hitched in your throat.

 Pulling back slightly, you gazed into Regé’s sultry almond-shaped eyes, and your hand balled the fabric of his shirt at his waist, hoping to control yourself.

 “Tell me what you want,” Regé repeated.

 Fuck it; you thought as you brought your lips to his kissing him with the scorching energy that was between the three of you. Regé delved his tongue into your mouth, wrapping it around yours, and it was then his hand slid lower on your hip and snaked back to your ass. As he cupped it, you released a moan unable to contain it any longer. When he sucked your tongue, you pulled back and nibbled his bottom lip. His moan caught you off guard and only fueled your steadily uncapping desire.

 You felt Trevor behind you begin to pull away from you, no doubt feeling like the loser of their masculine competition of the night. That was when you pulled from Regé’s lips and pulled him back to close the space he’d created. You had both men’s undivided attention, and the power you felt was unmatched. Bringing your lips to Trevor’s, you kissed him with the same fire you had Regé seconds ago.

 Again, you held control of this kiss. Trevor allowed you to decide just what you wanted to do, and it was probably going to be his downfall for the night. You bit his bottom lip, and his moan swam in your mouth, making you eat it like a succubus taking his life force. The decision was made.

 You pulled away and found their eyes on you. Smirking, you turned with their hands in yours and led them through the crowd. You were thankful you’d decided on the club inside the hotel rather than the other one you and Fifi were thinking of. Once in the hotel’s lobby, you beelined it to the elevator bank and wondered if they were at this hotel too. As the elevator doors opened, you stepped on and waited for either of them to press a button. This was their turn to make a decision.

 You pretended not to notice them give each other a look before Regé stepped forward and pressed nineteen. You smirked and rode up in silence. Interestingly enough, the elevator made no stops until it came to the nineteenth floor. You let them lead you, this time keeping a few feet behind them. You could feel their angst as they exchanged looks every few steps, no doubt trying to formulate a plan. It’s funny they still thought they were in control.

 The two stopped at the door at the end of the hall then opened it. Regé was the one holding the door open, and Trevor stood on the other side, letting you walk in. You glanced at both men, smirked then walked inside. You walked toward the bar you saw in the corner, then took up two bottles before you continued walking through the suite. You knew the layout was similar to yours, so you just walked where you expected the bedroom to be.

 Finding it easily, you walked in and found some music on the bedside table system, another easy feat thanks to apple music coming with every room. You pulled two chairs in front of the large window of the bedroom. You then walked to both of them and led them each to a seat.

 “Are you sure you want to do this?”

 You smiled at Regé’s sweetness and went toward him to sit on his lap.

 “Would you like me to leave?”

 He shook his head.

 “Then tell me what you want.”

 His lip quirked up at the side. He had to remember his words to you a little while ago.

 “Will you give it to me?”

 You kissed him again. as soon as your lips touched, his hands were cupping your ass, pulling you closer onto his lap. You felt the strain of his manhood against his jeans, and the anticipation had your sex quivering. Groaning, you pulled away and walked to the window. You put the bottles you held on the floor and turned to them.

 “Since you like competitions so much, the first one to move loses.”

 Trevor and Regé looked at each other quizzically. They didn’t get it yet. You untied the neck of the dress and slowly brought the straps down, careful not to allow it to fall from your body yet. Though the light in the room was scarce, you could tell the desire in both men’s eyes. You walked to Regé then turned your back to him.

 You swayed your hips from side to side to the rhythm of the music bringing yourself down to the floor before coming back up to bend in front of his face. Peeking behind you, Regé’s jaw was clenched so tightly that you thought it had to hurt. You stood and swayed again to the sounds of Sabrina Claudio. In no time, you were lost in the music bringing your hands to the back of your neck, letting the straps hang around your waist.

 Turning to them, you heard both audibly exclaim.

 “Fuck.”

 The accents were entirely different but sexy nonetheless.

 “Something wrong?”

 You stood between Trevor’s legs, topless, and circled your hips while doing your best snake charmer dance. You deemed it was acceptable because neither of them gave any indication otherwise.

 “You’re gorgeous,” Trevor whispered.

 You could see his hands clenching the arm of the chair and wondered just how much control he had in him. You pushed the dress off your hips and stood there in your thong.

 “Fucking hell,” Regé uttered when you turned your back to them. Using the strong knees you were blessed with, you brought yourself low and popped a baby twerk, not wanting to give either of them a heart attack. Every time you changed the direction of your hips, you looked over a shoulder to watch them watch you. They looked absolutely tortured.

 You walked to Trevor and stood there but stared at Regé. You motioned for him to come to you, and in seconds, he was by your side. You kissed him, taking the time to tease him with each passing second while noting he was a great kisser.

 “Lay right there,” you said, pointing to the spot between your feet. Regé obeyed, then you dipped down to your knees, your sex hovering over Regé’s mouth. You were about to speak, but shock cut you off.

 Regé wrapped his arms around your hips where your thighs met them and buried his face between your legs.

 “Oh fuck!”

 That was not the end of your shock because seconds later, you felt a wet velvety tip brush against your lips. You opened your eyes and came face to face with the impressiveness that was Trevor’s dick. You opened your mouth to speak, but a sharp stab of pleasure between your legs prohibited it. Your mouth fell open, and Trevor pushed himself into your mouth.

 You almost laughed. They were the dream tag team. The room quickly filled with moans and groans as you pleased Trevor and Regé pleased you. The way his tongue flicked against your clit was quickly bringing you closer and closer to your first orgasm of the night. You knew if they had anything to say about it, you’d have more.

 “Shit, your mouth—it’s—incredible,” Trevor panted, rolling his head back.

 Not relenting, you bobbed your head faster on Trevor’s cock, taking him as far as you could. He grabbed your head and held it in place, then fucked your mouth, making you gag every so often.

 “Uuuug!”

 When he released your head you continued the pace and moaned on his flesh from the pleasure Regé was giving you but also the pleasure you got from giving it to Trevor. When you felt gentle nibbles, you pulled back and gasped, then began using your hands.

 “Oh, fuck, yes! Right there, mmmm!”

 Regé sucked your clit into his mouth as he reached up to one of your breasts to pinch your nipple. Following suit, Trevor did the same to the other, and that pushed you over the edge. Your screech was loud as it filled the room and probably the hall outside. Bucking your hips against his mouth, you rode his face as it was meant to be ridden.

 When you rolled off of Regé and collapsed to the floor, the men stood and surrounded you. Regé went to your head while Trevor between your legs. You watched him sheath himself with a condom before he met your eyes.

 “Are you sure?”

 You nodded before you reached to palm Regé’s pulsating and impressive member. As your mouth slid along Regé’s length, Trevor’s slid inside your heated core, stretching you deliciously before filling you perfectly with his thickness.

 “Good god,” Trevor whispered, hovering over you to catch his breath.

 “You’re so tight, Y/N,” Trevor moaned, beginning to circle his hips.

With a full mouth, you were unable to speak and instead used the pleasure you felt to return it tenfold to Regé. His head lulled back while his jaw dropped, and he grunted, sending the last few inches of his need into your throat. You fought your gag the best you could. Trevor then sped his thrusts. Each time he connected your bodies, your breasts swung, and your sex clenched around him, gripping him like a vise.

 Soon your moans and mumbles made it almost impossible to properly enjoy what Regé had to offer, so your hands to make up for the job your mouth couldn’t do. Trevor’s thrusts got rougher, and in seconds you’d come for the second time. Using your feet to push him off, you stood and crawled onto the bed. While lying there, you watched both men slowly approach you. Regé was the one between your legs this time while Trevor was beside you.

 Trevor wrapped his lips around a pert nipple, then sucked, licked, and nibbled it. As your mewls spilled from your lips, Regé still had yet to move an inch. He kneeled there, rubbing the tip of his cock across your soaking slit.

 “You’re so wet. Show me, Y/N.”

 You slinked your fingers between your legs and dipped one inside to show him the evidence of your overwhelming arousal. He smiled, then sucked your finger into his mouth before he thrust forward in one powerful move.

 “Fuck!”

 The men ravaged you, one with their mouth and the other with their skillful appendage. Where Trevor was girthy and nicely proportioned, Regé had been blessed with girth and an overabundance of length. It didn’t take much for you to come again and again and again. When you rolled onto Regé to take control, you took your time crippling Trevor as he stood in front of you.

 The room was sweltering, and your bodies were slick with sweat, so every move the three of you made, the sound of bodies rubbing together echoed throughout. If it wasn’t the slickness of skin, it was the squelching of your wetness as they plowed into you or you rode them into oblivion.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

 The feel of both men nestled snugly in your tight trove was close to have to see stars. You crashed your lips to Regé, who was underneath you while Trevor was behind. He pumped more vigorously into you, making you pant and whine with each connection. Trevor, not being the one to be outdone, slammed into you, coaxing that spot in you that you knew would soon have you combust into a million specks of dust as you floated the galaxy.

 “I’m coming,” Regé and Trevor both shouted as if competing for who could say it louder. You rocked your hips against Regé while slamming back onto Trevor. You intended to bring both men to their knees, but after a few movements, you realized that you’d come undone just as ferociously.

 “Come for me, Y/N!”

  Shivering, you tried to ignore the command as you repeated your actions over and over. Underneath you, Regé bit your nipple, and behind you, Trevor your shoulder. Either way, these men intended to sear their marks into your flesh. Something about that was so fucking hot. You sped your movements, and that was when your body shook.

 “Fuck!”

 Both men shook with you and released such loud grunts and groans that rivaled your own whining. Your orgasm was expected but what was not expected was how long it continued. After a minute, you were still coming with both men still trying to secure themselves as deeply into you as possible. Both thrust into you once more, and that was all you could handle before stars erupted behind your eyelids, making you clench around both of them.

 Trevor and Regé gasped and hissed before the three of you dropped onto the bed. You were between them as all three of you tried to catch your breaths.

 Your eyelids were heavy, your limbs tense, muscles tight, and between your legs sore. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. So you didn’t.

 ~~~~~~~

-The Next Morning-

When you opened your eyes, the sun had yet to rise from behind the high rise next to the hotel. It took several moments for your vision to return clearly. When it did, you looked around, recognizing you were not alone. You felt a body nestled to your back and one in front of you. You froze, not wanting to stir anyone awake. You didn’t want a whole morning after thing. This was not what this was. It took you some time to slither from the clutches of the gorgeous men you’d spent the night with.

 Once free you stood there for a few moments and took them in. Trevor was on his side back to the window completely bare assed. It was a nice one too. His arm was thrown over his head leaving only part of his face visible. He looked adorable asleep. Regé was on his back, one arm over his head tucked underneath the pillow he rested his head-on. That was where your head had laid, right on his chest as if it belonged there.

 You shook off any attachment that was trying to creep its way in. You didn’t often do things like this, matter of fact, this was downright as rare as a blue moon. However, you hated the cliché of women who got attached after clear one night stands. You never wanted to be one of them because you knew for a fact men always laughed at them. You wouldn’t be that cliché, you thought to yourself. You gave the men one last look, then turned to gather your things.

 Once dressed and inside the elevator, you smiled to yourself. They really thought they picked you up when in fact, you’d heard their friendly competitive banter and decided a little fun was in order. Seeing how the night went, it was safe to say you were the real winner.

 MSG Fifi: Everything okay?

 You smiled to yourself.

 MSG: Pussy put their ass to sleep. Call me, NyQuil.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy​ @caramara3​ @night-of-the-living-shred​ @mauvecherie​ @areubeingserved​ @queenoftheworldisdead​ @ramp-it-up​ @i-just-like-fanfics​ @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls​ @wondersofdreaming​ @koko-michelle 

#risk it all fic #regé jean page #rege jean page fanfiction #trevor noah #trevor noah fanfiction #black fanfiction #healthy competition fic

[shiteatinggrin]

Wrote this quickly without editing it, so sorry if there are any mistakes. I tried to go fast because I didn’t want to miss Training Prompt Tuesday. This is a classic scenario, done a million times, but I wanted to be a part of the club. Jily are in hiding in Godric’s Hollow, and they dancing in the kitchen, ft Baby Harry. Enjoy! @petalstosarah

Word count: 1253

James Potter had been feeling hollow for quite some time. His whole head felt like cotton, and Harry had been crying all night, the poor boy was still teething (more like seething from the screams he let out). This morning he had spilled his coffee on his favourite shirt, burned his eggs, stubbed his toe on the corner of the bed and then again on the kitchen table. Sirius was supposed to come today, but a scrawny owl had come bearing the bad news in a short note: Got a mission tonight. Last minute. Sorry, mate. S. Dumbledore had come some weeks before and had requested to take a look at his invisibility cloak, which he had agreed to without much difficulty, since he had been in a very good mood that day, but now there was no possibility for him to sneak out at night anymore.

Before giving the cloak away, Lily and him had agreed to one night a week each where they could get out calmly, on different nights only since the cloak wasn’t big enough for both of them. One of his happiest moments of the Godric’s Hollow week night was to crawl out of bed at midnight, well after Lily had fallen asleep and not long before she would be woken up by Harry and going oustide by himself to look up at the immensity of the moon, or the stars, or whatever element of nature catcehd his attention that night. It felt like Hogwarts again, hanging out on the grounds, running in the Forbidden Forest and losing the others behind him, rare stolen moments of true freedom. So, maybe sneaking out of his own house on (human) foot was less exciting, and less free, but it was the closest he got to savour liberty again.

His tea was scalding, and he burned his lips. He knew he should have opted for orange juice, he didn’t even like tea in the morning, and apparently it didn’t like him back!

The thing he liked to do the most to pass the time was slowly remodeling their house, working with spells and sometimes Muggle instruments if he was sufficiently bored. They had repainted Harry’s nursery recently and the paint fumes had stayed for a week, so their son slept in their room with them, and sometimes Lily would place him on her chest or his, and they would all sync up their breathing, happily, serenely. The only times that they were completely safe from their nightmares, from the people they had killed, from the thought of suffering the same fate. Now Harry only slept in their room, since he cried a lot less when his parents were by his side, protecting presences.

He was trapped in here, trapped in the house he was trying to better everyday, but still couldn’t compare to what freedom and exaltation had tasted like. He loved his family, and he would have died for them, he would have, but sometimes, the most horrible part of him, the cruelest, meanest part of him wished that he could run away, go and live his life. Of course, he would never do it, never abandon anybody. The faint taste of wishing it was enough, like a buffet for the mind. Everytime he surprised himself daydreaming about it during the day, it felt like the biggest of betrayals, and had to go in the shower to stop himself from crying. One time, he had been nailing a painting to the wall and his vision had blurred after dreaming of a delicious beach, waves licking the sand, and he had almost nailed his thumb to the wall. Even with the help of magic, the bruise took six days to heal.

Sometimes he was afraid Lily could feel it, could feel his restlessness, his wish of going back to battle, going back to his previous life, he was scared she would think he would ever leave her behind. He loved her too much for that, but he didn’t know how to say it anymore. He could play at being himself all day, play at being happy, play at being funny and charming and bubbly, but before going to bed he would be too tired to act, and he knew she could feel the weight of his shoulders dragging towards the floor, the inherent heaviness of the prison they called home.

He wondered how she could bear it, bear being a mother and a wife and so kind and funny and playful. She didn’t need to act, didn’t need to force herself to do anything; she just was. He envied her for that, but he loved her even more for it. Lily was unbelievably strong and this lack of freedom was his own weakness, not hers.

He watched her in the living room watching tv with Harry, laughing at some truly horrible cartoon jokes. He went and sat with them, sat there stewing in his anguish, his intensity, his melancholy, trying to radiate only the love he had for them and to exorcise all of the worst parts of him. She let her head fall on his shoulder and they sat there, in front of the tv, Mama, Dada, Son. A happy little family who loved each other above all else.

When it was time for Harry nap in the afternoon, James announced he was going to try and get some sleep too, since he had had a terrible night. Lily looked up at him from her book and smiled tenderly.

He got up to the sound of music (not the kind that made the hills come alive, but close enough) (Lily had showed him The Sound of Music last Christmas Eve, tucked up in bed at her parents’ house before Harry had been born.) Some Beatles song floated in the air coing from the radio in the kitchen, and it was like waking up and walking into a totally different dream. The house smelled of cookies, which Lily had made to entertain herself (she was a bit of a stress baker) and she was all dressed up, as well as little Harry. She wore a red dress without sleeves that showed off the freckles on her shoulders, a dress that absolutely clashed with her hair, currently up in an elegant bun on the top of her head. Harry had a shirt on that normally came with a tie gifted to him by his Aunt Petunia, but that Lily had let the tie lie in the back of his wardrobe. There was a bit of chocolate smeared at the corner of his mouth. Everything felt a little bit like magic.

‘Place your hand in mine,’ said Lily softly, holding out her palm for him. ‘Please, hold my hand.’

She twirled him, and he was still in his pajamas, which consisted of a big long-sleeved grey shirt and plaid bottoms, all mussed up hair and hoarse voice. She looked like a princess, and when she turned, the skirt of the dress swished with her every movement. Little Harry could barely stand, but James took his hands in his and tried to get him not to lose his balance, swaying just lightly enough for it to be considered dancing. Finally, he took him in his arms and placed his other hand on Lily’s waist, slow dancing to upbeat and slow songs alike.

There was a bubble, a bubble of magic, but not the kind of magic he was used to. This was different. This was the only kind of magic the Muggles ever knew, but from his perspective it didn’t look all that bad.

And so they danced.

#evey writes #training prompts tuesday #jily fic #jily #training prompts #godric’s hollow #james potter #lily evans #harry potter

[prismadog]

Found Family AU character facts/background (part 7)

well, folks, we've made it to the last one of these posts - minus the upcoming master post. these just seem to get longer and longer, or maybe it's just because the past two have been about siblings? idk, all I know is that I'm a bit tired of writing these atm.

this last one should - SHOULD be shorter, but we'll see. this one will feature our last two characters - Mr. there's-no-such-thing-as-a-demon Joel Smallishbeans and good ol' Copper Dad Pixlriffs.

*did you know that Mesoglea is a word? I didn't until I kept trying to type "Mezalea" and my computer kept wanting to change it. Mesoglea is a gelatinous substance between the endoderm and ectoderm of sponges or cnidarians, or something. there's your word of the day and it's all thanks to the red squiggly line that appears every time I type "Mezalea"

*edit: guess what? y'all get two of these in one day because I felt like writing this last one! [technically, it's already Saturday but to me, the next day doesn't start until the sun comes up so yeah...two in one day! whoo!] the master post will be tomorrow sometime but idk when.

Joel

Joel is the only child to the Mezalean King and Queen, and was less born to them and more born from the Mother Tree - they couldn't have children so they begged the Mother Tree for an heir, She granted them a child who they raised as their own.

he was often alone growing up, never really played with the other children, but he wasn't lonely - so he and others would say - because he had his terracotta clones. he built many of them with his own two hands and the Mother Tree gave them life. he was raised as a prince and often went to the Gathering of the Empires with his father.

he got on well enough with the other children but kept mostly to himself - that is until he met the princess of the Ocean Empire. he noticed the other noble children seemed afraid of her so he took it upon himself to befriend her - plus, she was so different from the humans/clones around him, she was interesting with her pink hair and pearlescent skin and unnaturally blue eyes.

they would meet at the Gathering and spend the whole time together talking about their kingdoms and their hobbies - Joel was really into building and playing pranks on people, Lizzie was into raising axolotls and has a brother who she looks after. the short meetings weren't enough and Joel talked to his parents about visits with the Ocean Empire - it only makes sense since the two empires boarder each other. unknown at that moment, the Oceanic rulers proposed the same thing to the Mezalean rulers.

visits began between the two kingdoms and Joel found himself in love quickly enough - he loved Lizzie, he loved her little brother, he loved the Ocean Empire itself. but he kept his feelings to himself for fear of rejection, that is until he was about 16 when Lizzie came to him with talk of marriage - their parents had been discussing it but didn't want to force their children into it. he and Lizzie talked it over then went to their parents together and promised a future wedding, he also promised that Jimmy could be his best man.

life was peaceful, there were plenty of long visits between kingdoms, him and Jimmy often got into trouble - then the King of the Ocean Empire was killed. Joel tried to be there for her but found travel between kingdoms difficult due to the ongoing storms surrounding the Ocean Empire, he still managed to write Lizzie and once was able to visit - though getting back was just as difficult as getting in.

then several months later the storms stopped and Lizzie wrote to him about her taking the throne - she had said the Queen returned to the sea, though, he didn't really understand what that meant. he returned to the Ocean Empire and was there for Lizzie's coronation. he started visiting regularly for a time and each visit seemed to last longer than the one before it - he was there so often that Jimmy suggested he just move in. he did, with both his parents' and Lizzie's permission.

two years after that, he asked Lizzie to marry him and she said yes. they had two ceremonies, a proper land-dweller one in Mezalea, and another smaller Oceanic ceremony. being King now to the Ocean Empire meant he was basically a trophy husband but he didn't mind, he was happy as long as he was at Lizzie's side. if there was a Gathering, he or Jimmy would go with her, though usually Jimmy stayed home to watch over the kingdom - but he made sure to bring him plenty of stories and food from the Gathering.

Joel received word from his parents that an illness had struck Mezalea and the King and Queen had caught it. he returned home immediately to help where he could, Lizzie often sent aid to him, as did the kingdom's ally Pixandria - he had hardly ever spoken to the Copper King but he was glad for the aid. his parents unfortunately didn't survive and he lost a good number of civilians to the illness. but it was cured, with the help of the Mother Tree and magic from the Crystal Cliffs, and he became King of Mezalea.

with the illness cured, visits started up again between Mezalea and the Ocean Empire, though there was a lot more time spent apart than together but he and Lizzie made it work. Jimmy sent messages and gifts between the couple, often getting some for himself, until of course Jimmy became of age and wanted to travel the world.

Joel and Lizzie saw Jimmy off - it never ceased to amaze him how his two best friends could turn into giant sea creatures that could wipe out a fleet of ships. they managed visits on their own and sometimes he got letters from Jimmy. the letters stopped for a time and Lizzie grew worried, worried enough that storms nearly threatened the kingdom - but then Jimmy finally wrote them again and things were okay, he was in a swamp settlement and the people were taking care of him.

he and Lizzie went out right away to see him and found him at home in the swamp amongst a bunch of fish-human hybrids. he watched as Lizzie lectured her brother then babied him, then helped set Jimmy up as the ruler of the swamp settlement - the Cod Empire. they left Jimmy sometime later but saw him again at the next Gathering.

Jimmy got on well enough with the other rulers, despite the cod head he wore, though Joel noticed some rulers picking on him. he helped Jimmy from time to time, just so his brother wouldn't be alone, but didn't worry too much since Lizzie wasn't worrying - she was extremely protective of Jimmy but if she wasn't stepping in, then there was no need to worry.

Joel had met many of the rulers when he was a child so he knew pretty much everyone there. the only ones he hadn't met before was Count fWhip of the Grimlands, Wizard Gem of the Crystal Cliffs, and King Joey of the Lost Empire. Gem was all right for a mage, he ended up becoming frenemies with fWhip due to the teasing of Jimmy, and Joey was just weird so he didn't really talk to him unless need be. he got to know Pix a bit more when Pix decided to ally himself with Lizzie and Jimmy, and he started calling the man "Copper Dad" since his main trade was copper.

Pixl

Pixl was found by a pair of miners in a cave beneath the sands and was taken back to a large desert village, nobody really knew where he had come from, only that he was gifted with visions of death - of those around him and of rulers of the kingdoms outside of the desert. the villagers thought him odd and a bad omen, at first anyway, because he always knew who would die next and would light a candle for them when they passed.

they accepted him after a time, once they realized that he wasn't actually the cause - he would preach to them about Lady Death sometimes and how she would care for their loved ones. everyone in the village had a hand in raising him, as well as raising other children which was their way - it takes a village to raise a child.

Pixl learned how to farm and mine and care for animals, and he learned to build. his first build, guided by his visions, was the Vigil - it stood tall in the center of the village and was home to 12 different colored candles - only two of which were lit - one for Elfking Scott of Rivendell and one for Queen Katherine of the Flower Fields. the rest remained untouched. these flames never went out and the villagers often questioned him about them - he told them that there will be 12 mighty rulers that would change the world, for better or worse he didn't know.

over the years, he continued building up the village, he watched over the Vigil as Prophet of Death, and started working with copper and trading it for other goods. the people began to go to him for help and looked up to him as a leader, they named him the Copper King - a new candle was lit for himself when he was crowned, something he hadn't known would happen.

he continued leading his people and made a few alliances with other kingdoms - with Queen Katherine and the King of Mezalea. there wasn't a lot of contact between the kingdoms other than the Gathering, of which, he never failed to go to. over the years, he watched rulers age and die and watched their heirs take over. it took a long time for him to meet the children who would one day have their candles lit.

the next candle to be lit was for Pearl of Smallholding, though, he didn't know who she was at the time, he didn't even meet her until many years later. the next few happen fairly quickly - Queen Lizzie of the Ocean Empire, King Joel of Mezalea, and a couple years later Dwarf King Sausage of Mythland - these three he had watch grow up through the Gatherings. shortly after Mythland, Wizard Gem took over as the ruler of the Crystal Cliffs - he had known the previous Wizard and through them, knew of their protégé. a year after Gem was her twin brother, Count fWhip of the Grimlands - a new kingdom that managed to rise up from its own sort of desert. a few years later was King Joey of the Lost Empire and Codfather Jimmy of the Cod Empire - Joey's kingdom had once been named Maztec but had been in hiding for so long that it lost its name. due to his alliance with Joel, Pix decided it best to ally himself with Lizzie and Jimmy as well, somewhat through association but mostly because he liked them.

one candle remains unlit and no matter how much Pixl prays, the answers as to why remain a mystery. he still watches over the Vigil and keeps a count of each rulers' deaths - for some reason, the 11 rulers are allowed to revive themselves every time they die. he finds this odd as well, and a bit concerning.

#empires smp #found family au #xornoth adopts child!shubble au #joel smallishbeans #pixlriffs

[anon-rebel-writes]

Late Night Talks

Hello everyone! I hope you are having a wonderful day!

So this is a new story (yay!), and I wrote this for my girlfriend! She asked me not to tag her for privacy reasons, but I hope she loves this because this is actually based on a real event!

A quick background, we confessed through the phone and this story is heavily based on that. A lot of the feelings Luka feels are things that I actually felt! The dialogue is pretty similar too (obviously some things are cut out or edited to fit Luka and Mari lol)

My “just-a-friend” got me into MLB and we both love Lukanette, so I thought it’d be fitting to write her a story about Lukanette, based on us, for one of her gifts! Happy birthday, my love! I hope you (and everyone else reading this XD) enjoy it!

The story begins under the cut! <3 Ao3 Link

Soft light from his phone covered his face, forcing his eyes to squint in order to see clearly. His thumb unconsciously moved across the screen, opening up random apps before quickly closing them just to open them again.

The boat was fairly quiet. During the day, he could hear the different movements and various noises from his mother and sister, but this late at night merely left the sounds of waves from the Seine below him. The natural creaking of the boat usually left him relaxed and helped him fall asleep.

Although lately his nights had been occupied by other things, especially one girl.

Luka shifted in his bed, trying to engulf himself in more warmth from his blankets. Did his mattress always feel this stiff and uncomfortable? He never paid it much attention before, it never mattered before. Maybe it was just his mind trying to find something to think about.

He glanced at the time near the top of his screen and saw it was ten after midnight. Well at least it’s not too late yet, or maybe it wasn’t too early yet? She never texted him extremely late (or extremely early). Was it late? When did he care about time so much?

The only reason he thought about the time lately was because of her.

Luka shifted again, pulling up the blanket to cover the blush creeping up his cheeks. He continued to open apps just to close them again. He sighed and turned off the phone, letting the room dim and his eyes rest. Why did this feel so desperate? He used to see himself as a ‘go with the flow’ guy, but she had found a way into his heart and made him question his entire life.

When had he ever checked his phone this much? If she decided to text him tonight (as she had been doing for the past couple of nights), would immediately replying make him seem obsessed? He didn’t want to come off as overbearing. Didn't girls like when guys text fast? She hasn’t seemed to mind it so far. Then again, his only source of reference was his sister, and getting her to reply to him took years off his life.

His phone beeped and the screen lit up, showing a new text message. Luka quickly sat up and hurried to read the message.

‘SOS Can’t sleep again :( Think I might need a ~Luka~ to help (^-^)’

He covered his mouth with his palm, trying to hide the smile consuming his face. When did his nights become like this? Maybe it was desperate to wait for a text, but when the text came from Marinette, he couldn’t find a reason to be upset.

This girl seemed to bring him a whole new type of happiness, even if he was too nervous to text her first. He wanted to give her space and be comfortable around him, so waiting until midnight for a text never bothered him.

While seeing her throughout the day was always amazing, there was a different feeling that came with their late night talks. The fact that she needed to sleep and came to him for help gave him a warmth in his chest he never knew before. Although sometimes it made him feel selfish, seeing as she tended to talk to him when she was tired.

‘Luckily this Luka is always able to help :)’

And he really was always able to help, at least he tried to be. Luka helped everyone. Whether it was his family, friends, strangers, co-workers, he always lended a hand. But when it came to Marinette, he’d drop everything to run to her.

‘Yesss! Call me! Mama needs some Luka time!’

He tried to stifle a laugh and rolled his eyes at his phone. His body was hunched over the edge of the bed, watching his phone with intense eyes, as if the messages would disappear if he looked away.

In the mornings, he always found himself worried about that, as if the night before only existed in his mind. He’d hurry back to his phone to re-read the messages, making sure that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the girl who chased off his nightmares and reinvented his dreams, really spent her night with him. Even if it was through a screen, even if it was for an hour, the messages were there to remind him that for a moment, she was his and he was hers. He was always hers, if she wanted him to be.

Luka slowly leaned back onto his bed, trying to get into a comfortable position. He put one hand behind his head and took a deep breath. His calm personality wasn’t an act, Luka was definitely a level-headed person, but he was still human. And as a human, a pretty girl talking to him late at night gave him lots of nerves.

He quickly shook off any tension he felt and pressed the call button. The phone only rang once before the sweetest voice he’d ever heard took over. “Hi Luka! Sorry, I know it’s late and everything, but I couldn’t sleep and… Oh wait, you told me I shouldn’t apologize, sorry! Or- wait, I just said sorry. Wow, I’m sorry- Shoot! I said it again-”

She was rambling, rotating between apologizing to him and trying to explain why she called him. As much as he loved (was that too serious of a word?) her, he also knew that if he didn’t reel her in, she’d spiral out of control.

“Don’t worry, Mari, you’re fine. But I gotta be honest, I didn’t expect this. I mean, calling a boy so late at night… not once, but multiple times in a row? How scandalous of you, Mel’.”

He heard a scoff through the phone and a lot of rustling. “Oh Luka, you should know I am the most scandalous of girls. In case you haven’t heard, I call lots of boys and girls at night.” Her voice took on a fake sounding ‘tough guy’ accent. He rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle. “Wow boys andgirls? I didn’t know I was talking to a criminal.”

Honestly at this point he wouldn’t put it past her to be a criminal, she seemed to have a habit of stealing people’s hearts. He’d never tell her that though. One, she seemed to have a strange distaste for bad jokes, two, that meant he’d have to admit that he liked her (but the word ‘like’ didn’t seem strong enough).

“What?! I wouldn’t take it that far! I’m a total supporter of the law!”

Luka moved the phone from his ear to his chest. His face pinched tightly, trying to hold back any laughter that formed. His body tensed up from holding it in, as much as Juleka definitely deserved some payback for the loud laughing she tended to do so late at night, he really didn’t want to deal with a cranky sister. He quickly moved the phone back to his ear and took a deep breath.

“Yeah, that’s true. It’s kinda funny how different we are, not that I don’t support the law. It’s just when you have a mom like mine, it’s kinda hard to keep it in mind.” Marinette laughed through the phone and his chest felt like it was on fire.

Everything about her was so sweet, her laugh, her personality, she was amazing. Even when the mornings came and his head throbbed from the lack of sleep, he would never change these moments with her for anything in the world.

Sounds of fabric and movement came through the speaker along with a small hum of agreement. “Yeah I am pretty amazing at following the law. It’s kinda like a job at this point… Not that I have a job with the law! I don’t do that. That would be weird. Uh- anyways! Your job! Wait, that's not exciting. Oh man I’m so nervous tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Melody, it’s fine. My job isn’t very exciting, but I’m sure your day was, right? Mind telling me about it? You know I love listening to you.”

A gasp came through the other end of the phone and then a very thorough retelling of the events from the day. He slowly closed his eyes and imagined everything she told him. She left the bakery this morning to hang out with Alya, she probably wore that new beret she made, along with some cute, pink shoes to match.

He imagined her sitting under a tree at the park to draw, it was sunny and hot today, so she probably took her jacket off to get comfortable. She told him how she went out to get orange juice with Kagami, he could practically hear her smile through the phone as she told him about it.

Everything with Marinette was simple, by no means easy, but simple. He knew her well enough to understand how she felt, and she was the same way with him. They just got each other. She didn’t need to tell him the details because she knew he would already know. When he tried to explain a decision he made in a new song, she didn’t have to know what he was saying to understand him. Luka found it easy to just ignore the details, because Marinette was talented enough to fill them in herself.

Luka stayed quiet as he processed her words, filling in the details himself. He loved spending his nights like this, he didn’t mind messing with his sleeping schedule (or lack thereof). He loved to replay every moment of sincerity and kindness she showed throughout her day. He loved to hear about new projects she worked on, because her talent went beyond anything he’d ever seen.

She was miraculous.

“-But yeah, I guess that was my day! Not super exciting, but I think it was okay? I hope it was, at least.” Exciting? That was just one of the many adjectives he could use to describe her. Talented, exciting, clumsy, but so intelligent. Even on her dull days, he got excited just hearing her about random thoughts she had throughout the day. “Marinette… you’re extraordinary, honestly. Your day sounds wonderful. You’re wonderful. I don't know- You make me feel wonderful.”

Was he oversharing? Probably. He was definitely bad with words, but he wasn’t lying. His hands fisted his shirt as he waited for a response. The other end of the phone call went strangely silent. He could faintly hear the hum of the phone and the waves of the water outside his window. Why did the phone get quiet?

The last thing he’d ever want to do was make her uncomfortable, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. What if he told her too much? A soft squeal pulled him out of his thoughts and he focused back on the phone. “Um-! That’s...really sweet, Luka! You’re wonderful too… Or- Extraordinary I mean! You make me feel extraordinary, all the time. So- I don’t know, thank you?” His chest tightened. How much longer could he keep up with this act?

Pretending to be ‘just a friend’ might be easier for some people, but it was torture for him. Did she have these late night talks with other people? Did she ever hold anyone else’s hands when hers feels cold? Did she ever kiss them on the cheek to say goodbye? Luka was never one to push his luck, despite protests from his sister and mom, but nights like tonight made it hard.

“Don’t thank me, it’s just the truth, Mari. I should be thanking you, for making my nights a lot better, y’know?”

It was the truth. But there was so much more he could say. All of her quirks and amazing qualities always left his head feeling dizzy. He could write symphonies merely based on the person she was, let alone his feelings for her.

Yet he always kept those melodies to himself, even if he wanted to share them with the world, or share them with her. Nights like these make him feel like he could take on anything life throws at him. For Marinette, he probably could.

Another squeal came through the phone and a loud thud. He quickly sat up in a panic and pressed the phone even closer to his ear. “Marinette? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” Loud thumping came through the receiver and more panicked sounds.

“S-sorry! That was just- I just- Ugh… I dropped my phone, sorry. You just- you should know that… This is gonna sound lame, but you make my nights better too… Heck, I even listen to your cover songs throughout the day, so I guess you make my days better too? Wait, that sounds weird, sorry! I don’t mean to say it in a weird way...”

Luka’s eyes widened and his heart felt as if it was trying to beat out of his chest. His hand unconsciously moved to his chest and grabbed tightly onto his shirt. The breath leaving him was shaky and weak. It felt like the world stopped spinning for a moment.

All at once, the feelings he tried to hide came boiling over and any sensible thought that told him to conceal his affections raced out of his mind. Before he could stop himself, Luka’s mouth moved on its own.

“Can we facetime? Or anything similar to that, please?”

Without getting an answer, his phone started ringing. He turned the phone to his face and saw himself staring back. As soon as Luka answered the call his eyes wandered across his screen, taking in Marinette’s face.

Her hair was still in pigtails, but different strands stuck out in an adorable way. The camera showed her snuggled into her bed as she laid on her side, with her pink comforter pulled over her lower face, covering her cheeks and nose. A large cat pillow rested just behind her head, unnervingly staring at him. Because most of her face was hidden, Luka noticed her eyes, and suddenly he felt very self aware of his position.

Quickly laying back down on his bed, Luka awkwardly raised one arm to lay behind his head, trying to feign an relaxed appearance. He tried to give her the closest thing to an easygoing smile as he could manage at the moment, which definitely felt a little forced seeing as how he was now (sort of) face to face with Marinette. Trying to hide any tension he was feeling, he cleared his throat, inwardly hoping she couldn’t read how nervous he was.

“Uh- Hey, Mar- Melody. Love the cat pillow. Totally don’t feel like it’s about to jump into your phone and attack me.”

She raised a hand to her mouth, attempting to cover her laughter. Her eyes scrunched, smile widened, and Luka’s heart soared. Marinette managed to roll onto her back letting the beautiful sound ring throughout the room. The blanket dropped and uncovered the entirety of her face.

After a moment of joy, she tried to quickly recollect herself. She turned her head back to the phone and stuck out her tongue. “Silly. Just so you know I’m banning you from making me laugh this late again. You’re gonna make my stomach hurt!”

Luka started laughing too, loosely covering his mouth, not caring about waking anyone up anymore. “That’s gonna be a problem, you should know that I’m kinda hilarious, so you should fully expect me to break that rule. Very quickly.”

They both joined in quiet giggling before Marinette covered her mouth with her hand again and gasped. “I just told you that you’re banned from making me laugh!”

“Hey, I warned you! You can’t be mad when I literally just warned you!”

The two teens burst into laughter once more. Luka calmed down quicker than Marinette did, so he saw her laughing face a second time. She was beautiful. Every time he saw her, he swore she wasn’t real. No real person could be as stunning as she was.

Whenever she worked on a new project and her hair flopped over her face, she was gorgeous. The times when she helps their friends out, her eyes are always so gentle, she’s divine. Even when she’s stressed out, the moments when she feels at her lowest, Luka can’t help but notice how angelic she looks.

She’s breathtaking without even trying.

Once Marinette collected herself, her eyes turned soft and precious as she looked back at the phone. Even through a screen, her stare set his soul on fire. His mind went blank for a second before he lost all sense of reason.

“Did you really mean it when you said I make your days and nights better?”

Her eyes widened slightly at his question, and he finally realized what just came out of his mouth. ‘Great job, Couffaine. You just made it weird!’Luka shook his head and moved the camera slightly away from his face, moving his gaze from the phone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up again-”

“I mean it.”

His eyes shot back to her and saw how she snuggled back into her bed again. Her eyes were looking away, but the redness in her face showed him exactly where her mind was. “I meant what I said… Did- Well, did you mean it too? When you said I made your nights better?”

There it was again. The shaky breath, the longing look in his eyes, the fuzziness in his chest. With a simple answer, she turned him into putty and without even realizing it.

Luka moved his arm to rest on his eyes, attempting to hide any sign that would show how he felt, just in case she didn’t mean her words the way he wanted her to mean them. He’d never blame her for not being too clear, even if it hurt him. Any affection, whether friendly or romantic, should’ve been fine with him.

“This is gonna sound bad, but my phone is full of screenshots from our FaceTime calls.” Luka lifted his arm up slightly to gauge a reaction from her. But her eyes were glued on him, he couldn’t pick up on a clear response, so he covered his eyes again and continued.

“I… this is so creepy- sometimes I look at pictures of you and… it makes my day better too? That sounds so weird. It sounded a lot cuter in my head-” A loud cackle interrupted him and his arm shot away from his eyes. He saw Marinette digging herself even deeper into her massive blanket (and creepy cat pillow), trying to hide her laughter.

She must’ve noticed his silence because her eyes popped out of the blanket to look back at her screen. “Sorry, that’s just… that’s so cute! You take screenshots from our facetime calls?”

Her lopsided smile made his cheeks burn. He tried to gain back his level-headedness by rolling his eyes at her. He brought the phone closer to stick his tongue out at her. “I wouldn’t call me ‘cute’ if you don’t want me to call you ‘adorable’ for listening to those covers.”

Marinette stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation and hid her face back into the blanket. He took a quick, deep breath, silently thanking himself for being able to play his awkwardness off.

“I can’t believe I actually admitted that to you- That’s cold-blooded, Luka! Teasing a girl’s love is mean!”

They both paused for a second, taking in her words. The cabin suddenly felt a lot smaller than it was. His blood felt boiling hot yet icy cold all at once. His face slacked and yet tensed in different places. Looking at her and seeing her eyes expand let him know she was probably feeling the same way.

“Love?”

It sounded so easy. When she said it, it felt right. Full of affection without being overbearing. But then Marinette’s gaze moved off screen. She sunk into herself, yet not playfully like before. The energy of the call changed into something else, something new. “I… shouldn’t say anymore. I’m… sorry, Luka. I’m so sorry; I feel so selfish. I call you so late just to ruin your night by making things weird, and I’m so sorry.”

He watched as she shifted in her bed; he saw the edge of her thumb on the screen, hovering over it, as if she was about to end the call. “That’s not-! Marinette, that’s not true. If you’re selfish… If you’re selfish, then I must be the most greedy guy in the world.”

Marinette swiftly stared at the screen, her mouth opened as if she was going to rebuttal his statement. Before she could, he spoke first.

“I’ve been staying up every night, hoping and begging that you’d text me, or call me, or give me any attention at all. And I do it, knowing that you message me when you’re tired and need to rest. I know that spending time with me only takes away time you need to sleep. So yes, I’m selfish, and I’m greedy,”

Luka slowly sat up as he stared into the screen, clutching it as if it was the most important thing in the world, and at this moment, it was. Marinette moved the blanket off her face slightly and he saw her face flush with color. His voice felt raw as his throat tightened and his face burned. He couldn’t even register the tear that raced down his cheek. When did he get so emotional?

“But Melody, Mari, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I want your attention so bad. I want your affection and anything else you give me. I’ve been trying so hard to bite my tongue around you, to pretend like I think of you as my friend. But I love…”

He shut his mouth fast. What was he doing? He was destroying everything for these feelings. Why would she like him? She gives everyone affection. Marinette loved everyone, it was just who she was. What was he doing? He looked around his room and realized the situation he put himself in. He quickly put his phone on the bed next to him and pulled his knees to his chest.

Did he ruin their relationship? Would she stop having these late night talks with him? Would she still hold his hands when hers felt cold? Would she ever kiss his cheek to say goodbye again? What was he doing?

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. It all happened so fast. He reached for his phone to apologize and to hopefully scavenge whatever was left of their friendship.

“I love you too, Luka.”

His hand stopped just above his phone and he waited. He listened to the small buzzing sound from his phone, the waves moving against the boat, gentle breathing coming from Marinette.

“I love you… and I wanna be selfish. I wanna be greedy and I wanna be with you.”

Luka found the courage to lift the phone to his face and stare back at her. Marinette now sat up, her face was bright red with tear stains down her cheeks. Her eyes were slightly puffy and he was sure his were too. The only light on her face was her phone and even with everything, she looked beautiful.

“I wanna be with you too, Marinette. Always, for as long as you’ll have me. Wake me up at three A.M. everynight for the rest of my life, I don’t care. I just wanna be with you too. I love you.”

It felt so right. It wasn’t too much when he said it. He meant it to be heavy and weighted. But it didn’t feel forced or extreme. It was just right. They stared at each other for a moment more. His eyes raced across every centimeter of the screen, taking in every aspect of her, her eyes doing the same. Smiles spread across her face as they both chuckled, their laughter laced with happy tears.

Luka wiped his eyes, trying to calm himself down (despite his teenage hormones telling him that he should continue to cry and sob from the utter euphoria he was feeling). Marinette tugged at her pigtails with one hand, seeking to find comfort.

“This wasn’t the way I thought we’d confess, y’know. I always thought you’d write me a song, or I’d make you a new jacket. Some big gesture instead of us sobbing,” she chuckled.

He stopped wiping his eyes to laugh again. His smile grew, even as he tasted his tears. “Yeah, sorry about that. I promise I have plenty of songs for you, and about you and everything. I can grab my guitar if you want, but you might hear Juleka complaining in the background.”

They shared one final laugh before the exhaustion of crying kicked in and they both laid back down. Marinette wrapped herself in blankets one final time, holding the dubious cat pillow tight against her. Luka found himself in a similar position, he laid on his side, his face squished against his pillow and the blanket pulled under his chin.

They stared at each other, making small conversation about their feelings. Luka could hardly remember all that happened after that, he felt such relief and happiness from everything that the rest of the night felt fuzzy.

He glanced at the time at the top of his screen and noticed it was now closer to three-thirty. Luka took a deep breath before sighing. He saw Marinette’s eyes getting smaller and smaller with each second.

He knew that they should hang up soon, but he really wanted to be selfish and keep her on the phone. “Luka…”

Marinette slowly opened an eye to look back at him. Their smiles grew once again. “Are you gonna take another screenshot of me?” Her smile turned sly and he rolled his eyes.

“That’s cold-blooded, Mel’. Teasing a guy’s love is mean,” he stuck out his tongue, just for good measure. But then he sneakily took one screenshot, to remind himself that tonight was real and not just a dream. Tonight, Marinette was his and he was hers, and hopefully it’ll stay like that for a long time.

Her eyes drifted back closed, but her smile never left. “...Love you… Luka….”

Warmth engulfed his chest, leaving him feeling light and airy. The mattress underneath him felt soft and perfect. The dryness on his cheeks from earlier tears didn’t bother him at all. He was content and full of love.

While the confession was unexpected, he wouldn’t change it for the world. As much as he loved her clothing and as many songs as he had for her, he knew nothing would’ve compared to tonight. As he looked back at her sleeping face, he had a feeling she felt the same.

“I love you too, Marinette.”

#pro lukamari #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #ao3 #fluff #love confessions #mlb #late night calls #late night #texting #calling #facetime

[moon-light-jukebox]

“All you have to do is ask.” Chapter 2 - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // main page // next chapter

Summary: After the conversation in Nebraska, there’s some tension between our favorite genius and Reader. A peace offering, a rainstorm, and some unexpected questions should clear that right up.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Rating: Mature (not all chapters contain smut, those that do will be marked)

Category: Smut, fluff, and a bit of angst.

Word Count: 2.3k for Chapter 2 

Content Warning: Some slight angst for Chapter 2

A/n: I hope y’all are liking this so far! No smut in this chapter, but I more than make up for it in chapter 3. Promise. 

IMPORTANT ADDITIONAL NOTE: It was brought to my attention that the angst in this chapter appears to be something it is not. I mean, I know how the story ends, so I didn’t see it that way. But it’s a valid concern. I address it in chapter 6, but I’ve made edits to chapter 3 to address it a bit too. Reader is afraid to trust anyone, that is all. I promise. 

y/n = your name

y/l/n = your last name

italicized text are Reader’s inner thoughts.

-- Chapter 2: I fucking beg your goddamn pardon? --

Once we pinned down the gender of the unsub, it wasn’t hard to help the locals close the case. Anna Marie Wilcox, 29. A pretty blonde girl with haunted eyes, betrayed by every man in her life. She just wanted to take her power back.

Cool motive; still murder.

The flight back to Quantico was quiet. Hotch spoke with Rossi before take-off, telling us that he was flying back from San Francisco after visiting his daughter and grandson and that he would see us on Monday. After that, everyone seemed to slip into their own world. This wasn't uncommon. After working day and night to save lives, digging your way into the darkest corners of a murderer’s mind, you needed to decompress a bit.

JJ was asleep in the back of the cabin, Emily sitting beside her while she reviewed some files. Hotch was writing at the small table, Morgan sitting opposite him, eyes closed while he listened to whatever played through his headphones.

And I was on the couch with Dr. Spencer Reid. I was very surprised when he boarded the jet and made a beeline towards where I was sitting without hesitation. He hadn't spoken to me or even looked at me for longer than 5 seconds since our talk at the precinct. I could tell my blunt words had an effect on him, which wasn't surprising to me. I tried not to stereotype people, I knew better than anyone else how wrong those stereotypes could be; but, if I ever had to guess a person I thought would be a submissive, I’d guess Spencer Reid.

My back was angled on the couch, pressing into the corner where the armrest met the backrest, my legs crossed in front of me. I had my phone in my head, swiping mindlessly on a puzzle game that didn't require any cell phone signal to play. I always found myself doing that after a case, it calmed me.

Dr. Reid was pretending to read.

He’s not even being convincing, I thought, trying to keep my face neutral. You read 20,000 words a minute, baby. You’ve been staring at that page for 5 minutes. Unable to resist, I shifted in my seat. I slowly uncrossed my legs, the small slit in the side of my skirt becoming visible at the movement.

Did I wear this skirt on purpose? Yes, yes, I did.

I let out a soft sigh before re-crossing my legs. I watched him out of the corner of my eye the entire time. His eyes followed my movements, his breath hitching slightly. He moved his gaze up my body until he got to my eyes, which he was surprised to find were on him. He cleared his throat before going back to his book, little splotches of red on his cheeks.

I smirked. All you have to do is ask, Dr. Reid.

--

Nothing happened until Thursday the following week. I had all but given up hope that Spencer Reid would finally cave and come to me. Shame, I thought. He would look so pretty when he begged.

The unit's caseload had been lighter than normal, with no cases that required us to travel. We did some consulting and wrote up some preliminary profiles for the law enforcement agencies that asked for our help. We had been traveling so much over the past few months, I think Hotch was just trying to give us a break.

A loud clap of thunder broke the silence of the bullpen. Then it seemed as if the sky opened up a second later, the heavy rain falling like a curtain outside the windows.

“That’s dramatic,” Emily Prentiss commented.

Morgan made a sound of agreement before turning his head to look at Reid. “Have fun walking to the train station in that, pretty boy.” His face split into a smile as Spencer shot him a glare. JJ, Emily, and I all laughed at their exchange. His eyes didn’t go to JJ or Emily though, those caramel brown eyes swung in my direction.

At the end of the workday, Garcia was the first out the door. She walked past the bullpen and gave a big wave. “Goodbye, my darlings. I will see you in the morning…unless there is a terrible murder!”

The team smiled and returned her goodbye. Derek was out of his seat in a flash, trailing after her. I couldn’t help but wonder about the two of them sometimes.

“Bye Spence,” I heard JJ say as she passed the boy wonder’s desk. “Try not to drown out there.” Emily laughed as she walked up beside JJ, standing just a little too close. I wondered about them too, if I’m honest.

When it was just me and the object of my attention left, I got my bag and approached his desk. “Hey, Doc.”

He didn’t look up, making it seem like putting files and papers into his messenger bag required his full attention. “Hi, y/l/n.”

Well, this wouldn’t do at all. “It’s still pouring outside. Do you need a ride? I’d hate for you to have to walk a block in this storm.”

“I’ll manage,” he muttered, still not meeting my eyes.

I let out a sigh. “Spencer.” His eyes finally raised to meet mine. “I’m sorry if I stepped over the line in Nebraska. It was unprofessional. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention.” He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I continued. “I hope that we can move past this, I really miss my friend.”

He took a moment to adjust his glasses. He never wore them anymore, and I have to admit that my heart sputtered a bit when I saw him in them this morning. “We were friends before?” He chuckled slightly, earning a smile for me. I’d only been with the BAU for 7 months, and while I was friendly with my co-workers, Spencer and I had never had a particularly close bond.

“I like to think so,” was my reply, giving him a small smile. “And if we weren’t before, I hope we can be one day.” With one final look in those eyes, I turned. “Have a good night, Doc.”

I was halfway to the elevators when I heard him. “Y/n!” I turned to see him hurrying towards me. He smiled at me; and it was his real smile, not the polite smile he gave others. It was a full-blown smile that lit his whole face up. My stomach fluttered. “If you don’t mind, I’d actually like a ride. If you’re still willing?”

Still so nervous, even now. “Of course, pretty boy,” Morgan’s nickname for him slipping from my lips without a thought. “Follow me.”

It wasn’t the thing I had been hoping all week that he’d ask me, but it was a start.

--

The drive to Spencer’s apartment took longer than it should have. I was driving slower because of the storm; I was also driving slower because other drivers weren’t driving slowly.

"This type of rain is so heavy it cuts the visibility more than the average storm," the good doctor said. "Under normal precipitation, it's advised that you reduce your speed by at least 10 miles to account for less traction."

“Huh,” I responded, glancing down at my speedometer.

He cleared his throat. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

I risked a quick glance at him to see him shifting in his seat. “Do what, Doc?”

“Ramble,” Spencer said softly. “I ramble when I’m nervous, and I’m trying really hard not to be nervous.”

My heart ached for him in that moment. This brilliant, brilliant, man, the smartest and kindest person in any room, was nervous about talking to me. My right hand lifted from the steering wheel before I could think better of it, touching his arm lightly. “Please don’t be nervous around me, Spencer.” His whole body stiffened at my touch. “Shit! I’m sorry. I forgot you don’t like to be touch.” I blew out a frustrated breath. “I just keep fucking this up, don’t I?” My chuckle was sad, and a little bit bitter.

“It’s not that,” he said quickly. “I was just surprised. I don’t…I don’t mind if you touch me.”

I didn’t try to hide the shock on my face. “You don’t, huh?”

I swear I could almost hear the blush in his voice. “I d-didn’t mean it like t-.”

“Spence,” I cut him off. “I know. I was just teasing.”

He let out a small chuckle at that. "Oh. Right." There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. "You know, you've never called me Spence before." I simply nodded in agreement. He was right, I hadn't. I hadn't even meant to do it then. He continued on. “Actually, you only call me Spencer when the conversation is serious. Other than that it’s always Doc…or occasionally Reid.” The chuckle that left him put a smile on my face.

“You’re right, Doc.” I glanced over at him and smiled. “Tell you what, I don’t want you to be nervous around me. At all. So, I’m giving you blanket consent right now.” I really hoped I knew what I was doing. “You can ask me any question you want. You can tell me anything. I promise I won’t judge you.”

“…Really?” He sounded almost like he was in awe.

I nodded. “Yes, really. The thought of making you nervous makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want you to feel that way in front of me.” My voice was soft, reassuring. Maybe it was the soft dom in me that recognized his submissive, but I wanted to comfort him. I wanted him to feel safe.

Spencer Reid took a deep breath before he spoke again. He acted like it was no big deal, but the words he said afterward gave me a mild heart attack. "Okay, can you tell me about your BDSM experiences?"

I fucking beg your goddamn pardon?

I sputtered a bit. “…Seriously?” My eyes were wide, I didn’t risk looking at him.

“W-well,” he sounded unsure now. “You said I could ask you anything.”

“You can! You absolutely can!” I heard him let out a breath. “I’m just…surprised that’s what you went with. That’s all. But…I don’t mind telling you if you really want to know.”

“I do,” he whispered.

I smiled over at him. “Okay, Doc. What do you wanna know?”

Spencer chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Maybe just walk me through what you like to do. Or what you usually do. Or how you got into it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, that’s all?” I shook my head. “Alright. I was 21 when I first got into it. I had a…he wasn’t really my boyfriend. I guess you can say a friend with benefits.” I saw him nod his head in understanding. “And one day he asked me if I knew anything about BDSM. At that time, I only knew misconceptions and rumors; which is why I told him I wasn’t interested. The thought of someone tying me down and doing whatever they wanted to me sounded terrifying. But he clarified that he thought I would enjoy being a dominant. We tried it out a few times…and I liked it.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “So…is that the only kind of sex you have?”

I pondered over how to answer him. “That’s…a complicated question. I’m not not answering. I think I should just explain a bit more first." He made a noise of affirmation before I continued on. "What I do during a scene sort of depends on my submissive. Before anything happens, we have to have a really in-depth conversation, discussing hard and soft limits, punishments, expectations, and things like that." I glanced over, confirming I hadn't lost him. "Like I mentioned, I'm a soft dom. But, I usually can bend to what my submissive likes, as long as I’m comfortable.”

“So, what would you do? If you got to pick everything?”

You keep on surprising me, Doctor, I thought.

“Well, I like bondage, choking, degradation, but only if it’s light and done right.” I don’t know why I felt the need to explain that. “Then I’m fine with oral sex, praise, orgasm denial, overstimulation, and pegging.”

Spencer was quiet. “A-and pegging is the…”

“What the unsub was doing to her victims? Yes, Spencer.”

“…Oh,” was all the boy genius said.

I continued on, trying to provide context. “I usually like to build up the relationship a bit before I bust out a strap on, though.” I worked hard to keep my voice even. “I’ll use toys on him first, usually.”

“You didn’t say sex.”

Shit. "Beg pardon?" I asked like I was clueless about what he meant.  

Dr. Reid’s voice was firm; it was the voice he used on cases, the steady voice that explained concepts that anyone else would miss. “You said oral sex. You said you’d…you’d…do that-“

“Oh, for God’s sake, Doc,” I interrupted with a laugh. “We’re less than 3 minutes from your apartment and we’re having a conversation about BDSM. You can say fuck.”

“Fine,” he huffed. “You said you fuck them. But you never said you’d let them fuck you.”

Fucking profilers. “Yes, that’s right. That’s why it was so hard for me to answer your earlier question. I don’t have traditional sex with my submissives.”

His voice was confused when he asked, “But why?”

I clicked my tongue. “That, my darling, is a conversation I avoid at all costs. And we’re at your apartment.”

Spencer glanced around, surprised we’d arrived already, despite how long the drive took in the rain. I knew what he was going to do before he did it. I was already formulating my answer when he said, “Y/n…would you want to come up to my apartment? So we could keep talking?”

“Sure, Spence. If that’s what you want.”

--

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[vanillann]

five star conversation (r.p)

a/n: i’m going to cry, i can’t believe this is the last part of my favorite mini series:(

word count:

5 star conversation masterlist

place four: a 1 star gig

Flynn was always on top of things, she always was, but when she wasn’t you didn’t want to be lodged on a tour bus with her. She had already tried to throw her phone out the window, thank God Alex was looking for his hat and he caught it.

“They canceled our reservation! That must be illegal!”

I curled closer to Julie on her bed, letting my head rest on her shoulder every time Flynn let out a line of words. Reggie had a small panic attack with the yelling and Flynn tried to apologize but he didn’t blame, he was just as mad. So now the boy walked around the gas station we had stopped at and Julie and I let Flynn rant to us, she deserved it.

“Maybe another venue will host us,” Julie spoke up when Flynn didn’t yell again, her feet had finally stopped leaving marks in the carpet from pacing.

“I’ve already called two and they said their full, which had to be a lie, and plus how do we get the word out to the fans!” Flynn reached down and grabbed my knee, looking at me with sad eyes.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, waving it in the air while I sat up.

“I can always do a live and explain everything, why don’t you get some air,” I rubbed her shoulder, hoping she would take my advice, She had always given Reggie and Alex a heart attack and maybe going to the little nature walk across the street would be good, she could throw some rocks at some trees.

“I’ll get some air, yeah okay.”

She hurried off the bus, most likely to throw or kick rocks around the parking lot as Flynn never liked nature trails, it was nice to dream. If she dented this bus, we’ll be in debt.

“I can’t believe the venue canceled, it was our last gig on tour too!” Julie stood, looking down as I laid on her bunk and played with my phone in between my fingers.

I didn’t have to heart to tell the fans that we didn’t have a venue, that we wouldn’t have a final gig that was supposed to help release the new album coming out in five months.

It might have seemed small, we were blessed we even had this opportunity but it doesn’t change the fact that the one we're most excited for now was not happening.

“I’m going to find the boys, you coming?”

I closed my eyes, the boys. Everything they worked for was now becoming a nightmare, their idea of the perfect tour was ruined with falling through plans and missed opportunities.

“No, I need to go live and get the word out anyways,” I brushed off Julie, I didn’t have the heart to look any of them in the eye and tell them. To break their heart like everyone else in their life has, I just couldn’t do it. Julie waved behind her, I waited until the bus door shut before I let my head rollback.

I looked up at the bunk above me, Flynn’s, and let my mind wander over the past few months. They were perfect. Watching the fan scream their name for hours and they showed them in their element. The pictures that have been taken, many saved in my phone of the people I would always turn to. The edits that have been made have made me laugh harder than I imagined. Before this tour, nobody knew me, not that I ever cared, but I was behind the scenes. Now, the fans want me on the stage even if I don’t contribute to the music.

The music, the music had been show-stopping. Luke has been through four journals the past few months, writing back fast food drive in’s and doing stupid things with friends, that how the new album was coming out so fast. They were all so excited, Reggie was so excited to have one of his own songs featured as a single.

Reggie.

I let my hand run over my face, feeling the embarrassment from the incident at the fair. Watching his face move closer to mine, like a slow-motion picture and then ripped away when it was ripped in half. I took a minute and tried turning it into a moment, but it was never our moment. All the giggles and inside jokes hurt my chest and I thought back to the more recent time of the tour.

The motel, the way the light shines across his face and we wondered would the world cave in around. The feeling of his hand gripping my shirt because he always felt he had to be touching someone, he said it reminds him not to act so dead.

The diner when he gave me sweet little comments and took my fork from my lips. When we laughed about food poisoning and wondered would we ever be the same people after he played with my finger from across the table.

The fair where I gave him his first horse, then named it after an artist I introduced to him too. The way the wind passed his hair like he was made to run away from the world that had disappointed him more than once.

Every one-star establishment that made me believe could kiss my butt because now we had nothing. I didn’t need any more one-star buildings and places in my life. They’re just cheap and used for people who have no other options.

I sat up quickly, so quickly my head hit Flynn bunk.

No other options and cheap, exactly what someone in our situation could use right now. I let my phone spin between my fingers, unlocking it quickly before finding my search bar. We sat in the center of California, there had to be a one-star building somewhere near, one that we could turn into a dive bar or something. I smiled when a cheap bar popped up first, the area large enough to hold people and a small stage the band could work with.

Larry’s Bar was suddenly open for business. I dialed the number quickly, praying for the first time in a week something would go my way.

“L-larry’s Bar,” the woman sounded out of breath but I couldn’t care.

“Can we rent out your bar for a band?”

“Huh?”

“We need a venue for a band performance,” I realized why Flynn handled this and not me, this was out of my comfort zone.

“Are you sure you have-”

“Incredibly sure, yes or no?”

The line went silent, for a minute I thought she hung up on me and I considered crying with Reggie’s stuffed horse for a minute.

“The bar’s yours,” the lady's voice sounds light suddenly like we finally both got some good news. She definitely made my week without knowing.

“We’ll be there in forty-five minutes,” I didn’t wait for a response, rushing out of the tour bus to find someone. When I spotted everyone leaning against an ice machine outside the gas station with sad faces, my legs couldn’t stop me from rushing. I was happy Fylnn already kicked all the rock because otherwise, I would have felt.

“Guys!”

“Hey,” Alex's voice was sad and sincere, about to place a hand on my shoulder but I was bouncing on my toes.

“Whip off your sad faces, I got us a gig!”

*

“Just got off live, the fans are going to spread the information,” I yelled throughout the bar, and Luke and Jessie, the lady from the phone, moved the last few tables around the bar to make more room. Reggie and Alex did a quick soundcheck, we were currently renting amps and such from across the street since the owner's daughter was apparently a “Luke Girl”.

“Thank God, I would hope we don’t do all this work for nobody to show up” Alex called back as he did the classic comedy drum sound, giving a smile as he grabbed the extra drumstick from his back pocket.

I rolled my eyes, hopping off the stage to the small table at the door for Flynn and me to sit at for tickets and shirts, CD including, and a special code for the single Reggie was presenting tonight.

Luke and he had been fighting over it for ten minutes because Reggie changed the one he wanted to release last minute, it must have been good if Luke was letting him get away with it.

“I can’t believe you pulled this off,” Flynn sat in her seat with her arms crossed, people would be arriving as soon as possible and we were prepared for anything.

“What can I say,” I smiled brightly, taking the seat beside her.

“What made you think of this?”

I wanted to say, Reggie, that he almost always somehow inspired my best ideas but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Almost everyone knew of the almost kiss and how awkward things have been between us, so awkward I couldn’t say his name.

“Just about what happened at the motel, how we had to make it work.”

It wasn't a lie, that was for sure.

“Well, you saved the tour,” Flynn leaned over and squeezed my shoulders, her bucket hat titled as it smashed against my face. I hugged her back, smiling into her shoulder, I saved the tour.

*

The crowd screamed as the band finished off “Bright”, sweat dripping down them as they gave wide gestures.

“Thank you! Now it’s surprise time!” Julie passed the microphone to Luke, who looked so excited for his next set of words.

“The rumors about the new album are true,” he let the mic drop until the screams died down, “and we are here to show one of the singles for the said album that will drop on March 3rd at midnight!”

The crowd went crazy again and I laughed against Flynn, we both decided to stay in our chairs for the performance as we had an amazing view and we didn’t want to push through everyone. I was scared that everyone would see the one-star and turn the other way but every ticket that was bought came.

Reggie smiled as he took the stage, his bass switched for an acoustic, which confused me but I didn’t think much about it, I knew he liked to mess with it sometimes.

“Hi everybody!”

Reggie gave a peace sign to the crowd, the few girls who wore Reggie’s face on their shirt screamed at the top of their lungs.

“This is a song I wrote a few weeks ago on tour called “Five Star conversation.”

I looked over my shoulder at Flynn, her eyes wide as she watched Reggie get situated on his stool in front of the mic.

“What song is this?”

“Uhm, this one?”

All she did was point and I decided to go back and watch him play. I could always ask later, I’d have to make merch with it anyways.

“Dingy bathrooms and motel floors, I’d never wanted you more than right now,” Reggie's voice came out rough as his voice played with the melody just right. His finger-picked at the string and I was shocked by the slow melody. This definitely wasn’t a song I’d heard.

“The city lights across your face, I swear you fell from grace. The world around me seemed to disappear the second you spoke,” that when it happened, the moment he turned his head. He looked in my eye, the words rooting themselves in my chest, tattooed across my heart.

“Our five-star conversations were softer than the pillows beneath me, I wish you could have really seen me.”

I felt myself chew on my bottom lip, feeling my eyes turn to me as his attention never left my face. He was watching me, the same way he had in every other one-star establishment, but this felt different.

“Oh, you wouldn’t know the five-star conversation I had with your soul.” The medley rang out, Julie’s soft humming joined in behind and I wondered how anyone could focus.

How could anyone think straight when someone was looking so adoring under the flashing light of a cheap bar that smelt like feet?

How could I pay attention while he looked at me like I hung the stars in the sky when he hung the moon?

“Crappy food and screaming doors, I wonder if you knew of your own grace!” His word rang back in my eye, like a bug that wouldn’t quite go away, not that I would ever want this to stop.

But it had to stop because I was suddenly the center of attention and I couldn’t handle it. I couldn't know the world more than I did. But I was rooted in place watching the boy I had fallen so hard for a look at me with his puppy eyes and wonder where we would stand after this.

“Don’t let me lose our five-star conversation in a one-star world after all,” he strummed the last bit of the song, I barely processed half the word before I let my legs go. I was walking somewhere, wherever my feet would allow me to go. I was outside, the brick wall of the bar brought me back to reality.

The same reality where I didn’t think boys wrote songs that sweet and they didn’t look at you like that. They didn’t look at you like you spun gold strings and gave them pretty smiles, but he did.

He always did, he always looked at me like I belonged next to him saving tours and making horrible plans. He looked at me like I could be his muse for the rest of his life, of death is more appropriate. He looked at me as if I was more than his because I wasn’t his, I was myself and that’s all he wanted.

He was in love with me, the same person from the motel, the same person for the diner, the same person from the fair.

I was the five-star person in the world star world, I was the extra star he was always looking for.

“(Y/N)!”

As soon as I watched his body slide out the door of the bar, I walked to him. I didn’t realize how far I walked until he started rambling.

“I’m sorry to put you on the spot but I couldn’t stop-”

My hand gripped the thin jacket material, not thinking twice and my lips smashed against his with force. He fell back slightly, his hand grabbing my wrist for a second before he was running them over my shoulder and down to my elbows. He pulled me closer if that was possible, and I let my hand touch over his heart.

The heart that wanted me, Reggie wanted me. There were girls who would wear his face on a shirt and he wanted the person that made those shirts.

I was his five stars, even if I loved him in every one-star and three-star establishment.

I felt myself pull away, our forehead resting on one another and I took a shaky breath.

“I’d give that kiss two stars.”

He smiled down at me, raising his eyebrows and letting his tongue run over the side of his cheek with a smirk.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll make it five stars.”

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