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#trying to shake the cobwebs off my writing
fiddleabout · 1 year
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(previously on the fabulous adventures of sun summoner ava and the druskelle who’s gonna fall in love with her)
It’s their third day of walking, from one whaling shelter to another, and so far Ava has learned that the druskelle is fastidious to the point of absurdity, that she sleeps on her left side-- potentially due to the cruel burn scar that Ava had seen on the first night, in spite of the way they had both burrowed deep under their respective bearskins until their clothes dried; it starts below her ribcage on her right side and snakes down past her hip, terminating in a splotchy discoloration halfway down her thigh-- that she sleeps light but pretends not to wake up when Ava wiggles closer in the middle of the night for warmth and starts each morning with a set of fifty pushups, and that she’s proven herself impressively immune to Ava’s charming habit of chattering to fill the silence.  
She still doesn’t know her name.
Ava’s halfway into a hilarious story-- in Fjerdan, just to irritate the druskelle-- about when she and Diego had managed to prank Frances at the orphanage with an elaborate plot involving a rabbit snare, a basket full of fresh mushrooms, and a piece of twine stolen from the kitchens.  She’s taken a detour in her rambling, away from Keramzin and towards her first and only experience in the unsea, stowing away on a skiff in a desperate attempt to keep her little brother safe, and has been on an impressively colorful five-minutes-and-building rant about how the First Army had treated the both of them after her powers became known.  She can feel her own frustration building, at the situation and at the druskelle and at the darkling, when the druskelle speaks for the first time in hours.
“--and then the lieutenant, that cunt--”
“Should you really refer to your commanding officer so crassly?”  
Ava nearly trips at the sound of her voice.  It’s melodious and soft, her accent rounded warmly.  The other druskelle on the ship had sharper accents, thinner edges to their vowels: a Djerholm accent, urban and rich, the accent of the children of nobility plucked for elite service.  This druskelle, though, has a quiet, rural accent that differentiates her from the rest of the druskelle as her dark hair and eyes had differentiated her from the rest of Fjerda.
“She speaks,” Ava manages to say after a split second.  “And here I was thinking that the druskelle had made you take a vow of silence.”
“I speak,” she echoes thinly.  “Only when there is something worth speaking to.  Such as insubordination.”
“Don’t tell me you’re concerned with me respecting a Ravkan lieutenant.”
“You are a soldier, even if you are a witch,’ she says.  She steps around a patch of snow that looks exactly like the rest, and Ava follows automatically.  “Soldiers should respect their commanding officers.”
“Well,” Ava says grandly.  “Forgive me for not agreeing to let my brother get sent to slaughter.  Some of us have beating hearts instead of unwavering obedience to work with.”
The druskelle doesn’t respond.  She continues hiking, and Ava nearly drops the bearskin she’d hauled with her for the last two days, wrapped around her shoulders like the druskelle’s cloak is wrapped around her own.  An irritation builds in her stomach, itching and impossible to ignore.  
“Hey,” she says sharply.  “What should I have done, then?  What would you have done if it was your brother?”
“I never had a brother,” the druskelle says without hesitation.
“Fine, play with semantics,” Ava says, unwilling to give up.  She hitches the bearskin higher around her shoulders and scrambles after her.  “Someone you love.  Your best friend.  Your mother--”
“My parents threw me out,” the druskelle says.  She turns abruptly, quick enough that Ava nearly falls on her ass trying to stop from barrelling into her.  “They took me on a carriage out into the wilderness and left me there.  When I tried to go home, my entire village had been destroyed by an inferni.  My parents burned in their beds.”
Ava stares at her, the bearskin heavy at her shoulders.  She’d grown up in Keramzin, meaningless and unimportant and dreaming like all orphans do about parents who loved her, a mother and a father who would love her if they were still alive.  It had never occurred to her, a war orphan whose only memory of her parents was them trying to protect her when the war spilled into their town, that there were parents who might cast their children aside.
“I am druskelle to protect Fjerda,” the druskelle says, fury snapping in her dark eyes.  “To protect other children from losing their families to witchcraft.  From people like you.”
“To protect people from me,” Ava says slowly.  “People like your parents, who threw you away?”
The druskelle’s jaw clenches, muscles in her neck working in stark lines, faint freckles dark against the flush of anger spreading across her cheeks.  “I became druskelle to honor them in their death as I should have when they lived,” she says, voice shaking with anger.  
“You hunt people who just want to exist so you can honor people who abandoned you in the woods?” Ava shoves at her shoulder.  It’s weak-- she’s exhausted, and hasn’t eaten in two days, and the druskelle has broad shoulders and powerful arms that Ava has become more familiar with than she’d ever want to, thanks to the Fjerdan cold and the unheated huts they’ve been forced to sleep in, and she barely flinches with the effort.  Ava slams a fist into her shoulder, stubborn and unwilling to give up.  “I never wanted to be grisha.  I didn’t ask to be this.  I just wanted to keep my brother safe and then--”
A groan snaps through the air, and she cuts off when the druskelle’s eyes go wide.  There’s a split second when she’s about to pick up her anger and keep ranting, and then the world cracks below her feet and she falls.
She slams into the side of the crevasse, her shoulder nearly dislocating and an aching pressure around her wrist.  Her face crashes into the ice of the ravine when her momentum stops, and she lets out a pained noise through gritted teeth before looking up.
Above her the druskelle is flat on her stomach, both hands closed tight around Ava’s wrist, and they both freeze.  Ava hangs from her grip, her entire body aching as it hangs from the druskelle’s hands.  She could drop Ava, could just let go and let her fall into the unending dark below her, leave her here to die alone and cold in the middle of the wilderness, and no one would ever find her.  The druskelle who killed the sun summoner, a hero to the Fjerdan people for killing the first hope the Ravkan people have had in four centuries..  
Ava hangs in her hands and finds the same desperate need to live, the one that had burst out of her when a volcra’s claws had latched onto her on the deck of the skiff and tried to pull her away from Diego, crawling up her throat.  Sunlight warms under her skin, but sunlight won’t save her here.
“Please,” she says, aching and scared.  The unwavering grip on her arm aches, radiating beautifully down her arm, the only thing keeping her alive.  “Please.”
The druskelle stares down at her, hands still tight around her wrist, and Ava watches her eyes narrow and shoulders somehow square even as she lays half-hanging over the edge of the ravine, and then, suddenly, she pulls.  
Ava’s shoulder screams, the joint protesting the tension it’s under, until she can get her other arm up and gripping at the druskelle’s wrist and square up her weight.  It’s only half a minute, maybe, before Ava is able to reach up and latch onto the druskelle’s arm to help pull herself the rest of the way up and crawl over the edge, sprawl onto the snow, but it feels like an eternity.  Her body aches with the effort, but she collapses onto her side next to the druskelle and then rolls onto her back, gasping and shaking and staring at the cold gray sky.  
Next to her, the druskelle flops onto her back as well, and Ava’s head rolls to the side to stare at her profile and the way her chest is heaving.
“Beatrice,” the druskelle says eventually.  “My name is Beatrice.”
Ava keeps staring at her, at the straight line of her nose and the arc of her cheekbone and the sweep of her jaw.  The druskelle who saved her life.  Beatrice.
“Beatrice,” she echoes after too long staring.  She speaks carefully, testing the way the name feels in her mouth.  “I’m Ava.”
Beatrice’s head tilts to the side, precise and meticulous, until she can look at Ava.  Her dark eyes are unreadable but her mouth is soft and uncertain, and Ava fights the urge to shift closer and curl herself into Beatrice’s side.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”  Beatrice drags one arm up and offers it awkwardly across the space between them, and Ava meets her in the middle without thinking about it.  Her hand is warm, somehow, despite the cold they’re lost in; her palm calloused and her thumb folding carefully over the back of Ava’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Beatrice,” Ava finally says.
Ava means to let go, but her hand lingers.  Beatrice doesn’t let go either, and Ava can barely feel the cold seeping through her kefta-- the bearskin had fallen away, lost into the ravine-- for long seconds before Beatrice pulls her hand free and stands up, only to offer it back to Ava and pull her up to her feet.
Wordlessly, Beatrice strips her cloak off and wraps it around Ava’s shoulders.  She fastens the clasp and her knuckles brush against Ava’s throat, and a warmth that has nothing to do with her summoning spreads through Ava.
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sweetsurrcnder · 2 years
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~
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cillianhead · 6 months
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Some sub!Neil Lewis would save my life right now I think 💋😋
Oh my gosh! Ask and you shall receive. I'm so excited this is my first request <3
(Also I'm so sorry if you didn't want this to be smutty, I'd be more than happy to also write some fluffy stuff!)
Pussy-Whipped || Sub!Neil Lewis x Reader
summary: When Gumshoe Video hosts a small Halloween party, Neil can't help but feel disappointed you're not there.
Warnings: SMUT!!! 18+ Minors DNI, pussy eating, vulgar language, possibly poor writing from me (barely edited.), let me know if there is anything else I'm missing!
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Neil had gathered a decent sized group of people to have over at the store for Halloween night. It was nothing too major but it was definitely a good sized party. There was plenty of snacks and drinks, couples making out against walls, people debating on whether Christmas was better than Halloween. Really, it was a perfect little party, people were having a great time. Halloween music played, fake cobwebs lined the walls, fake spiders, you know, all that jazz. Later on at Gumshoe Video, there would be a couple of scary movies playing to really celebrate the occasion. Well unfortunately it was missing one key feature.
You.
It left Neil feeling easily irritated and whiny all night. He was all dressed up as Dracula from the 1931 film. The most important piece was missing to him of course. Lucien and Jonathan would tease him for being so grumpy.
"You'd probably give up this store just to see her again, huh?" Lucien was grinning at him, enjoying seeing Neil suffer.
"Shut up, man," Neil just smiled uncomfortably, sick of their teasing, nudging Jonathan with a huff.
"You're pussy-whipped." Jonathan said before Neil slipped into his office, which was strictly off limits during the party.
You had already made plans with some of your friends, weeks prior. Some halloween party that was also a birthday party for a good friend, you promised Neil though that you would show up to the store afterwards. He was starting to doubt you would.
Neil always worried you thought he was too lame or you were way too out of his league. You would roll your eyes every time and just give him a reassuring kiss.
Feeling down, he sat in his office chair, swivelling around and twiddling his thumbs. He missed you, it had been a few days since you had seen each other, both busy with work, he was shaking with anticipation at even the tiniest possibility of seeing you.
To be honest, Neil was a needy little thing. He struggled going even a day or two without seeing you. And oh how fucking his fist could never compare to fucking you. God, even just thinking about your pussy, he could feel his trousers tighten and he threw his head back with a groan.
A zip and a tug could be heard as he slipped his hand down his pants, teasing the tip of his pink cock with his thumb. Whining quietly, precum staining his cotton briefs. Fuck, he didn't expect to be walked in on, touching himself like a pervert.
"Neil?" Your voice. He quickly swivelled his chair back around, facing the doorway to look at you like a deer that had been caught in headlights. Neil just coughed, trying to act casual, trying to pretend he hadn't just been thinking about having your tits in his mouth. But he knew you knew.
"H-Hey!" He looked you up and down, a sheepish smile and flushed cheeks as he looked at what you were wearing. A white corset, laced up tightly, hugging the perfect curves of your body. A sorry excuse of a dress tightly clinging to your skin underneath it, your hair had been pulled down out of the hairdo you had it in previously so it fell messily over your shoulders and white stockings adorned your thighs. He could cum looking at you then and there. He wasn't really sure what you were supposed to be but he didn't really care at this point in time.
"What were you up to, my love?" Sauntering over to him and rounding the table to get closer to him. Neil looked up at you like a lost puppy as you sat down on the edge of the table. The smell of your perfume made him feel like he could pass out, you were intoxicating. "You miss me?" "Yeah... yeah... I did..." Neil nodded dumbly, looking at your pretty lips that he hadn't gotten the chance to taste in oh so long. "Missed you so much, you've all I've been thinking 'bout." You held onto his chin, smiling at him knowingly.
"Looked everywhere for you, thought you'd be out with the rest of the party, Neil baby."
"S-sorry... I just..." His head hung low, feeling embarrassed for being so needy. "I just really missed you... didn't feel like hanging out with any of those people..."
You just kept smiling at him sweetly and his eyes watched as you casually shimmied down your panties, sticky and wet as you tossed them behind you. The skirt of your dress didn't cover the sight of your bare cunt and as you leaned against his desk, spreading your legs for Neil to see better in the low light of his office, he didn't hesitate to dive right in, knowing what to do. Desperate to taste you, like a dog that hasn't eaten in weeks. He moaned at the taste, eyes rolling back in his skull as he was gifted with your wet pussy against his face.
"That's fuckin' it," You moaned, letting your head lean back as he made out with your pussy. "Show me how much you missed me, Neil..." Your mouth was agape, he always ate you out like his life depended on it.
Your fingers in his hair, pushing his face deeper into your soaking core only encouraged him further, causing him to groan into you. Your clit fit perfectly between his pretty lips as you desperately ground your cunt against his face, his nose just perfectly caressing you. His tongue poked inside you, flicking up to the spot where you needed him most.
"God! Fuck... you're such a good boy... so good for me...!" Gasping out. This was all Neil needed, he didn't care if he wasn't allowed to get off for the rest of his life, as long as he had you, to touch and to taste, he didn't care, you were all he needed. The sound of you whimpering loudly made his cock throb, he felt like he was close to cumming himself. Neil always described it as heaven on earth, when you came on his face, he felt like he had accomplished all he was good for. "Want me to cum on your face, pretty?" You let out, sensitive and so turned on seeing Neil down on his knees, looking so content with life as he sloppily ate you up.
"Please..." He mumbled obediently before letting you continue to fuck his face. His tongue was pressed flat against your clit as you came, further wetting his face, what makeup he had on for Dracula now smudged across his face and your inner thighs. He kept slurping your juices up until you tugged his face away. Glistening and a dumb dopey smile on Neil's face was the sight that met you.
"I missed you so much, baby," Still recovering, you leaned down and gave him a gentle loving kiss. His tongue flicked out to the corners of his mouth, licking the juices that were still on his face. "You did so good." He blushed at the praise. You always thought he could never look prettier, red cheeks, big blue eyes, and your cum dripping off of his nose and chin with that big satisfied smile.
"I love you..." He whispered, placing a small kiss on your clit before standing up and connecting your lips once again. "Love you so much..."
-
Hope you enjoyed :)
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callsign-relic · 7 months
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hi! May I request a Gn!Human reader x Swerve (first contact?) please and thank you!
Hi!! Thanks for being my first Swerve request!! He’s always such a joy to write, so it was so much fun to pair him with the First Contact AU!! I hope you enjoy, I personally really like this one :D
Warnings: SFW, First Contact AU, GN!Human!Reader
(And as a small reminder to any readers, my requests are currently open!)
Swerve had no idea what he was looking at.
He shifted you this way and that, turning your body around in any direction he pleased as you were held in his fist, examining you from all angles. He lifts a digit to his chin as he pouts his dermas to the side, utterly dumbfounded at just what he was looking at.
Was this one of the ‘humans’ on earth he had heard so much about? After scooping up so many other little earthling creatures into his servos and being told ‘No, Swerve, that is a lizard, not a human,’ ‘No, Swerve, that is a bird, not a human,’ and ‘No, Swerve, that is a a bear, not a human’ so many times, things were starting to get confusing. Earth had so many creatures, just how was he supposed to keep track of which one was named which?
You stare up at your own horrified image reflected in azure blue, struggling to keep down your nausea from being thrown around so carelessly. Your form is warped in the mirror of the titan’s gigantic visor. Was it like sunglasses? Was that its eye?? Did it even have eyes??? Your questions are partially answered by the way the red and white mech adjusts his visor as he brings you closer to his face. A blue light suddenly washes over you, from the top of your head to the bottom of your bound feet, and you flinch back.
Swerve decides to shake the cobwebs off of his old scanning system to get to the root of just what exactly you were. He wasn’t about to bring another creature he thought was a human up to the Lost Light only for him to embarrass himself again. The image of your face begins to match itself with countless other images in his memory database, crossing out mismatches in red.
As the minibot goes through this silent process, you think now may be the best time to try and make your escape. Despite how much you didn’t want to touch this thing, you pushed your miraculously free hands down onto his thumb, doing your best to pull yourself up and out of his grasp. It takes a couple tries, and you almost think you’re not even budging, but when you see the waistband of your pants start to peek out from the bright red of his servo, you know you’re making progress.
Finally, after what felt like a good five minutes of searching through his limited database of earth’s creatures, a green checkmark appears in his HUD view over your image. “Yes!” He quietly pumps a fist to himself and a wide grin spreads across his faceplate, looking to the side in his accomplishment. ‘HUMAN,’ his HUD view had read.
“Ugh, finally, I never thought I was gonna see one of you guys!” He reels his helm back in relief, “I was sittin’ here thinkin’, ‘Man, Swerve! You’re really gonna be the only mech on the Lost Light who hasn’t earth’s dominant species? Especially when we made a pit stop on their planet?’ If I did, I knew I would never hear the end of it from the crew. I mean, really…”
Swerve carries on rambling in a tongue you couldn’t even begin to comprehend, voice echoing loud in your ears and ex-vented air from his words blowing past you. You didn’t have the energy to care to spare— your main priority right now was escape. Your thighs are almost entirely free from his grip now, just a couple more tugs upward and you could get out. Though the surprisingly smooth finish on the mech’s hands didn’t do much to help— your little hands kept on slipping against his knuckle rather than keeping you stable.
You press your legs close together— you were freed up to your knees. Slowly, you lift one of your legs out of the pocket of his curled servo, trying to land it on a stable enough place on his fingers. Your body bends awkwardly and you do your best to calm your quaking chest as labored breaths race through your lungs. You could do this. You carefully pull out your other leg, placing it down beside the opposite foot, and you find yourself spread wide across the hole that was your former prison.
Okay, that was step one. Onto step two.
You push your arms behind you with all your might, trying to force your body up into your feet. To your surprise, you manage to do so first try, standing tall against Swerve’s servo—
Until you find yourself plummeting forwards.
As you fall face first downward into the dirt, you realize all too late that you were in the fist of a giant, of course you’d be countless feet high up into the air. You screw your eyes shut, brace your arms in front of you, and scream— because that’s all you could do in a situation like this…
“…and so I said, ‘C’mon, when have I ever lied to ya’, Magnus?’ And then he said— woah, look out, bud!”
…until you land much quicker to the ground than you had expected. It takes a solid five seconds for you to be flush against whatever surface you were on until you deemed it a good idea to peek an eye open. A familiar bright red paint job gleamed beneath you and you whip your head up, only to heave a shaking, defeated sigh.
Swerve was looking down at you in his palm with gritted denta, optical ridges furrowed in great concern. “Are you okay?” His voice rumbles from above you, and he brings his free servo up and over to you. He gently pushes you with a digit from leaving you lying on your stomach to laying you supine, and though you wanted nothing more than to be on the ground, somehow, you couldn’t find it in you to even be mad. Was it exhaustion? Some weird sense of empathy you got from seeing a gigantic alien look on at you with worry? You couldn’t name it. But whatever it was, it gave you enough strength to redirect some of your energy from heaving your chest up and down with heavy breaths over to your arm, and you point downward over the edge of his hand.
It takes the minibot a good minute to process what was happening. You were communicating? That was certainly more sentience he got from the rest of earth’s creatures… sick. But then Swerve finally looks in the direction you were gesturing to, and gives a long, “Ohhhhh,” when he realizes what you were asking of him. Slowly, the mech comes to a knee, lowering his servo down flat against the earth as he does so.
Slowly, you come to your feet in his palm, and step off the edge of his hand and onto the dirt. Once you’re off, the minibot pulls his hand away, resting it over his bent knee. “Sorry, didn’t realize earthlings were afraid of heights. I’ll keep that in mind,” he chuckles, tapping one of his digits gently to the side of his helm.
You somehow found you didn’t flinch as the sound of metal tinking on metal rang around you. Slowly, you chance taking a couple steps back, never pulling your eyes away from Swerve’s visor.
He squints a little, but comes to his realization much quicker than he had before. “Oh! Oh, you wanna’ leave! Okay, no worries, little guy!” He flashes another grin, waving you off with a free servo. “Nice meetin’ ya’!”
Seeing as he wasn’t reaching back towards you, you take it as a sign that he was allowing you to leave. With a long, relieved sigh, you finally turn your back to him— walk becoming a brisk jog as you make your exit.
Swerve lowers his servo, grin fading into a small, content smile on his dermas. “Heh. The guys back on the ship are never gonna’ believe this one.”
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sentientgolfball · 7 months
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that recent dew request got me SOFT!!! i love your writing so much, so how about i request phantom x reader also engaging in a playfight but since phantom has been recently summoned, he's not used to holding back and ends up unintentionally scratching the reader with his claws. i wonder how freaked out and horrified he'd be once he realized !!!!!!
Ok so I went a little overboard with this one cause I'm HEAVY on the Phantom brainrot. Semi continuation of this but all you really need to know is Reader works as Sister's assistant and has been at the Ministry for a decent amount of time.
Also...thank you so much that really makes me so happy WAHHHH
My requests are open !
Your eyes darted up in the direction of the door for the millionth time since Sister Imperator left her office for the day. You had stayed behind to get some extra work done for the upcoming Samhain harvest party. You rolled your shoulders to sedate the feeling of anticipation building up within you. As time dragged on with nothing happening you began to relax and get some proper work done, that is until you hear it. The slightest creak of the floorboards. You tense for a moment pausing your typing to listen for it again thinking you just imagined it. You get this deep feeling within your gut that you need to turn around right now or who knows what will happen. You shift in your chair and scan the surprisingly small space. 
There’s no way he’s here. I would’ve seen him come in unless he crawled through the fucking window. What am I thinking of course he would crawl through a window. 
You turn back around in your chair only to be met with the glowing purple eyes of your favorite scarred face. You jump ever so slightly but cover it up with a laugh and a shake of your head.
“Nice try star,  but you’re gonna have to do better than that.” 
“Seriously? I spent all day perfecting that trick and nothing.” He makes a pouty face as he looks at you from across the desk. 
“It’s going to take a lot more than sudden popping into existence to get me” you laugh “but I wouldn’t mind hearing about that little trick.” You just wanted to know exactly what to look out for for future encounters. You hoped you sounded innocent enough, though apparently you didn’t. 
“Can’t do. A magician never reveals his secrets.” He looks at you smugly. 
You roll your eyes with a smile and finish the email you were writing before standing and slipping your hand into his. You walk back to your room together and you can literally feel the excitement sparking off of Phantom. You shudder when you feel a zap of accidental quintessence pulse through you. With the harvest party so close, the Ministry is fully done up in autumn colors and cheap decorations. It was hard to make a Satanic abbey filled with demons look any more haunted, but it’s the thought that counts. 
Phantom had become completely enamored with the concept of Halloween. The day the very first fake cobweb appeared he had burst into your room on your day off to interrogate you about why the Siblings were getting annoyed with him for cleaning it. When you explained to him what Halloween was and how humans celebrate it he was so excited that the lichtenberg figure scars on his body began to pulse with barely contained quintessence. He spent the remainder of the night on your laptop binge watching movies and looking at costumes. He also picked up a nasty habit. From that day on he turned his daily ‘visit you at work’ moments into daily ‘try to scare you shitless’ moments. You ended up having to explain to a rather sad looking Phantom that you’ve been at the Ministry for quite some time and a ghoul jumping out and yelling ‘boo’ is not going to scare you. Little did you know, that would only egg him on. His little scares started to become big scares trying everything he could think of to get to you. 
You both pause when you finally get to your room. This immediately makes you suspicious as Phantom usually opens the door first. You turn to look at him. 
“Phantom I swear to Satan if one of your bats is in there again.” You say slowly pushing open the door and peaking in. You sigh in relief when you don’t see anything moving. 
You walk in with him hot on your heels. His smile falters as he looks around the room. 
“Aw come on I left it right there!” He says pointing to your desk. Your eyes scan over him. 
“Is that who you were looking for?” You motion to his shoulder. He turns his head and yelps when he sees the tarantula on him. You walk over and take it gently into your hand before he can smack it. 
“Is this one of Papa Secondo’s? How did you convince him to let you borrow her for this?” 
He stays silent.
“You didn’t convince him, did you?” 
“I thought it would work! Aren’t most humans anthropomorphic?” 
“Arachnophobic.” 
“That’s what I said.” 
You smile and shake your head “Well I’m going to take this little lady back to Secondo before he turns the Ministry inside out.” 
You leave your room and immediately notice Phantom is not making a move to follow you. That’s your sign that he has something else planned. You mentally prepare yourself for whatever it may be as you make the long walk to Secondo’s chambers where you deposit the tarantula safely into his waiting, and worried, hands. 
Your internal clock still hasn’t matched up to the time change and it is suddenly a lot darker on your way back to your room than you anticipated. The candles being your only source of light for your journey. You pause in front of the open Chapel doors and stare at a glowing stained glass window. You smile contentedly taking it all in, this time of year was always your favorite. 
And then all the candles are snuffed at once. And the heavy doors slam shut. And you smell something. It’s a scent you’re not familiar with. It smells like a strange mix of all the things you’ve come to associate with each element. You turn in a small circle trying to get your bearings in the dim lighting and that’s when you see the thing that makes your blood run cold. The flash of a silver mask standing in front of one of the windows. You can feel your heart jump to your throat as you recall the legends you were told when you first joined the Church. 
Never walk alone at night or else the ghoul who lurks there will find you and dispose of you assuming that you’re a trespasser. He has no name. He only reacts to—
“Special.” You say out loud in shock. 
The moment you do the masked figure rushes at you. You curse and immediately turn to run the opposite direction but you’re no match for the speed of a ghoul. You feel the clawed hand grip your wrist, but luckily you had enough momentum to pull away before he could fully hold you in place.  You sprint down the hallway without a second thought doing everything you can to put distance between you and the ghoul. You pass a small utility closet and that brings you to your senses. You can’t outrun a ghoul no matter how much of a head start you have. You double back and jump into the closet leaving it open just enough to peak out. You keep a hand over your mouth trying to keep your breathing as quiet as you can. You watch through the crack as Special stops right outside of the closet and sniffs the air. Time feels like it moves in slow motion as you watch him. Your chest clenches. Your stomach drops to the floor. You can feel yourself shaking. An image of your death flashes through your mind. 
The ghoul seems to catch something and laughs before taking off in the direction you had gone before ducking into cover. That laugh. It wasn’t full of malice or danger. It was giddy, full of pure excitement. You recognized that laugh. 
Phantom. 
You take a moment to sigh in relief about the fact you aren’t about ready to be horribly murdered by the ghoul from Ministry legend before deciding you were so getting Phantom back for this. You quietly step out of the closet and creep down the hallway you saw him go towards. You hide behind a pillar when you see him standing there frantically looking around. You hear him growl before watching him rip the mask off.
“I can’t smell anything with this thing on.” 
He turns around and starts walking back to where this little game all began. You hold back a smile and lean against the pillar nonchalantly as if you weren’t just on the verge of tears. You watch him pass you before you speak. 
“Come here often?” 
He screams and drops the mask, turning around to face you. You laugh and pick it up, holding it out to him. 
“This is impossible! I’m starting to think you’re not human.” he pauses and you can see his nose twitch as a satisfied grin spreads across his face. He can definitely smell your fear. 
“Nope. Nuh uh. You didn’t get me.” You give him a light shove with your shoulder. 
“Oh I definitely did. I finally found what freaks you out! The big bad ghoul that goes bump in the night!” 
He grabs you and gives you an excited and triumphant shake. When he lets go you feel a small stinging sensation on your arms where he grabbed. You check yourself over and see the little pinpricks from where his claws accidentally dug into your flesh, a small amount of blood already welling there. It wasn’t deep, certainly not the worst scratch from a ghoul, but you did not feel like walking around the Ministry at night with blood on you. The idea of the legends still being true flashes in your mind. 
“Hey uh Phantom.” 
He turns and looks at you and all the elation from his success disappears in an instant. You immediately try to soothe him before he freaks out. 
“Hey no it’s okay. It doesn’t really hurt, I'm fine. I just need you to heal them, okay?” 
He stares at you frozen in place, eyes flicking from your face back to the blood back to you. He looks lost, like he’s not even entirely sure what he’s seeing. You can practically see the storm of thoughts in his head. 
“Phantom.” You say gently. This time he snaps out of it. He’s shaking like a leaf as he silently reaches for you. He hesitates for a moment before carefully putting his hands on you. The air is filled with the smell of ozone and frost as you watch his scars pulse to life with his quintessence. And then you’re screaming as the small sting turns into a horrible burn. He rips his hands away immediately and backs up so far he bumps into the wall. 
You take a moment to catch your breath and scream out a rather creative string of curse words as the feeling turns into a dull throb. 
“Okay. That one’s on me.” You knew he had a hard time controlling his magic when his emotions ran high, but you weren’t exactly thinking logically after the night's events. 
He mumbles something and you tilt your head. He notices and repeats himself just a bit louder. 
“Omega should still be in the infirmary.” He looks up at you with the saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. You mentally smack yourself for not remembering that. 
“Alright let’s go see Omega then.” You smile and move towards Phantom only for him to back away. You pause and feel your chest tighten a bit at the once clingy ghoul keeping a five foot distance from you. You’ve never seen him so quiet, so reserved in your time together. You don’t really know what to do, so you just turn and make your way towards the infirmary. You feel a little better hearing the sound of his shoes clicking after you. 
The infirmary isn’t busy and Omega is able to see you immediately. The lingering scent of your fear made him believe that something horrible happened, but when he saw the little claw marks he sighed. Phantom seemed to take his reaction a different way and immediately started to babble out an explanation with you occasionally interjecting to correct his overdramatization. However, when you got to the part about the added pain Omega seemed concerned. 
“Phantom, you isolated the wrong thread. Have you not been practicing your healing?” 
His ears dropped down as his tail wrapped around his leg. His only response was a high pitched whine. 
Omega sighed “I don’t know if I should yell at you or Aether or both” he pinches the bridge of his nose “starting tomorrow you’re to come here. Don’t be late.” 
He gets up and stalks off to another room without saying anything more. 
You and Phantom leave and head back to your room. He walks next to you this time, but he’s still quiet and it doesn’t sit right with you. He follows you into your room and looks up at you when you close the door.
“Are you really okay?” 
“Yes star, I’m fine. It was barely even a scratch.”
He doesn’t look convinced. You hold your arms out to him.
“Hey. Come here. I want my favorite little love bug.” 
To your surprise, he jumps into you immediately. The force of it knocks you backwards and you land on the bed with him clinging to you. You laugh as he buries his face into your chest muttering apologies and promises to never do it again. He clings tightly to you for a while and you let him, happy that he seems back to normal. Relief washes over you when you finally hear him purr. 
“Hey by the way.”
“Hmm?” 
“Where did you get that uniform?” 
“Oh I borrowed it from Dew.” 
You furrow your brows “And he just let you?” 
He laughs “Well yea. It was his and Swiss’ idea for me to use it.” 
Suddenly the whole situation makes sense. There’s no way Phantom would’ve come up with the idea of masquerading as the special ghoul on his own, much less actually use the idea. You pull his face up to meet yours in a quick kiss. 
“I love you, but never take the advice of those two again.” 
“You’re just mad that I won.” 
You roll your eyes and pull him closer in your little spoon. You lay there with him listening to him ramble about how he did everything, slowly getting lulled to sleep by his weight and the rumble of his voice.
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something-tofightfor · 9 months
Text
The Truth Is Out There: Sleepless
Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Art Conservator/Restoration Specialist FBI Agent
Word Count: 5,816
Chapter Rating: NSFW - Explicit! (sexual content. language. continued accidental drug use/effects, Marcus in this state is his own damn warning.)
Series Warnings: Sex Pollen (with a twist), no use of Y/N, female reader insert, Reader works for the FBI in art restoration/conservation and has a nickname that is used often by Marcus. In this house we cannot stand Teresa and Jane and that is reflected in this story.
Summary: After a few hours, you’d think the effects of the Lapis would be wearing off, right? Not so fast. 
Author’s Note: Nothing big this time - just enjoy. There are a few new links added to the masterlist page - you can see the rooms I’m envisioning while I write the story! 
Come yell about Marcus with me if you want, my inbox is wide open and collecting cobwebs. 
Masterlist / Unrequited / One Breath / The Truth / This Is Not Happening / Three Words / Soft Light 
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It took another 90 minutes - and almost a half dozen orgasms for each of you before you began to feel marginally better - and more like yourself. 
You collapsed atop him, Marcus’ strong arms around you as he rolled both of you to the side. “Stay here. We need to drink something.” He spoke quietly, lips grazing your temple, and then he was gone, the weight of him leaving the mattress and bouncing you slightly. Just a few minutes. We need a break. 
You were exhausted - barely able to open your eyes, and all you could smell was the two of you - sweat and sex and the faintest hint of his cologne on the pillow. I want this. I want this all the time. There was a dull ache between your legs, and you could feel just how kiss-swollen your lips were, but despite that, you still wanted Marcus, the drug coursing through your system manipulating your body’s natural reaction to him and intensifying it to an almost unmanageable level. 
“Can you sit up?” He was back, and you cracked one eye open, sighing. “Scott didn’t bring straws, so you’re going to have to. I don’t want you to choke on it. I’m sorry.” He gave you a smile and you found yourself laughing, too, using both arms to push yourself upright. Of course you don’t. “Has anyone ever told you how right it feels to walk into a room and see you naked in their bed?” 
He handed you a bottle of Powerade while he spoke, the cap already unscrewed. At the words - and the sincerity in his voice, you paused, fingers wrapped loosely around the plastic, your other hand holding the sheet up to cover your chest. “What? No, they haven’t.” 
“You heard me.” He sipped from his own bottle, though he didn’t look away. “And ok. Let me be the first. I know this isn’t my bed, but -”
“Marcus, you can’t say that.” You took a drink, hoping that he couldn’t see how badly your hand was shaking. The liquid was cool and sweet as you swallowed it, and rather than lowering the bottle, you took another - longer - sip before trying to speak again. “Especially not after a few hours of the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, and before this Lapis shit wears off and we go back to -”
“Who said anything about going back?” He drank again, your eyes focused on the way his throat worked while he swallowed, the same heat in your belly that had been partially slaked by him beginning to burn again. How is it possible? It physically shouldn’t be. We … But as he lowered the bottle, he reached down with his free hand and adjusted himself through the towel he’d wrapped around his waist. He’s still hard. He… there’s no way. “Why would we, Scully?
“I don’t…” You cleared your throat. “I don’t know. Maybe I just figured that once we were back to normal and there was no reason for us to -”
“No reason?” He leaned in, his free hand trailing slowly over your cheek and then down the side of your neck before moving to your throat. “There’s more of a reason now than there was before, in my opinion.” You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes. “How are you feeling?” 
“Tired. Sore.” You shifted your hips, letting out a shaky breath. “Hollow. I want more, and I don’t know how that’s possible, because …” You let out a slow breath. “We’ve been going at it for hours.” 
“Scott said that it was pretty intense until it wears off. They’ve done studies on the people they know have taken it, but he said that it’s hard to figure out exactly how it works because it hits everyone different and you can’t just … film people having sex for 7 hours just to see what they say and do.” 
“They could.” You drank again, thinking. “I’m sure there are couples that would jump at the chance to have this kind of night even if it meant putting themselves on display. But I still don’t understand what sort of purpose this serves, though. What good is it to anyone to -”
“I’m sure Scott has all those answers.” Marcus’ voice was low again, and at the sound, your fingers tightened on the bottle, the plastic crackling under your grip. “And I want to hear them too, but right now …” He scooted closer, reaching back to drop his empty bottle onto the floor. “Right now I want more of you, but if you’re too tired to -” 
“No.” Head whipping back and forth, you finished the last few mouthfuls of colorful liquid and then flung your bottle to the side. “I’m not too tired.” Not after waiting two years for this. Letting the sheet drop, you leaned in and pressed your forehead to his. “What do you need, Marcus?” 
He pulled you into his lap and you went willingly, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, the man’s hands settled on your hips. The towel between you provided some friction where you needed it most, but you wanted skin-on-skin, to feel him notched between your bodies, even if he wasn’t inside of you. “This.” He flexed his hips forward, pushing against you and you gasped, teeth digging into the corner of your lip so hard you were surprised you didn’t taste blood. “Need to be in you, because it just feels …” He groaned. ��Feels so damn good. I don’t even know if I can come again, but I want to.” 
One of his hands slid down and parted the soft cotton of the towel before reaching beneath it. Even though you’d seen him take himself in hand multiple times in the previous hours, it still made you hum in appreciation when he did it that time. 
His flushed skin slipped in and out of his grip, the man’s fingers flexing as he changed his hold. When you rocked forward and made contact, it was his turn to react, a low hiss escaping his lips as he changed the angle of his movement, knuckles brushing against you with each stroke. “Wish we didn’t have to worry about a condom.” He groaned as he spoke, the man tilting his head so that he could look down between your bodies. “I wish we could just -”
“I’m on birth control, Marcus.” You wet your lips, fighting back a moan when he paused mid stroke to circle his thumb over your skin, pressing down just enough to make you shiver. “Have been for a long time, and even if I wasn’t, I’m sure we’re going to have to see doctors tomorrow, so …” There are plenty of options.
You scooted even closer as you spoke, your chest pressed against his, the motion of his hand restricted to only the shallowest of strokes. But Marcus made the most of it, twisting his wrist and running his knuckles along the parts of you that he could reach. “It’s been months since…” He kissed the corner of your mouth, taking in a shaky breath. “Since I’ve been with anyone else, so that’s not … you don’t have to worry about me.” 
You kissed him back, sucking his lower lip between yours and then releasing it with a nod. “It’s been a while for me too.” And I want this. “So, Marcus, if you want …” He flexed his hips forward, the length of him pressed to your lower abdomen along with his knuckles. “If you want me like that, then… yes.” 
You were shocked at how easily you were giving yourself over to the man, but you weren’t surprised that it was happening. “Lift yourself up.” He was breathing hard, one hand back on your hip. “Use my shoulders.” You did, head tilted down so that you could watch what he was doing as you rose up, using his shoulders and your legs to put yourself into the position he’d requested. “Go slow. I don’t want to -” 
 He stopped speaking when you began to lower yourself onto him, the man’s hand keeping him steady as he slipped in, inch by inch. You whined at the feeling. Despite the fact that the two of you had been together multiple times in the previous hours, taking him was still a stretch. Marcus was just as hard as he’d been the first time he’d removed his pants to let you touch him, and though it should have shocked you, it didn’t. “Holy fuck, Marcus, you feel…” 
You couldn’t finish, instead keeping silent until he was completely sheathed by your body. It’s better. This is … thank Christ. “Finally.” He breathed the word into your ear, Marcus mouthing at the skin in front of it as he wound both arms around you. “Oh, God, finally.” One of your hands found its way to his arm, the other pressed to the center of his back, between his shoulders. 
You understood what he meant. The hours spent together previously had helped to push back the urgency of your desire. Each minute the two of you had been connected had made things just a little more bearable, and every orgasm had brought momentary relief. But this is so much better. This is … “We should have tried this hours ago.” 
You laid your head down against his shoulder, face turned toward his neck, but neither of you moved otherwise, content to sit still, wrapped up in each other. “No.” He finally spoke some time later, the sound of his voice startling you. Was I dozing off? “No, we should have tried this a year ago instead of me telling you no.” 
You didn’t disagree, but you didn’t know what to say in response, either. So you kept quiet, letting out a deep sigh and tilting your head so that your forehead was pressed to the side of his throat. We’re doing it now. And that’s what matters. 
He moved first, Marcus’ fingertips trailing up and over your spine, and then, seconds later, he started to move his hips, too. The thrusts were barely even that because he was sitting up, but you could feel him, a low hum vibrating through his chest and into yours as he rocked into you.
It was lazy - the way you moved together, and that meant that it was unlike the previous hours, but the change was welcome. “Marcus…” Whispering his name, you lifted your head and then brought your hand up, the edges of your nails dragging over his scalp and tangling in his hair, which was curlier at the ends than you’d ever seen it before. He met your gaze, the man’s eyelids drooping halfway shut. For the first time, you realized that he was just as relaxed as you were, his body’s motion more reflex than anything else. “Do you want me to -”
“No.” He shook his head back and forth slowly. “I want you to stay right there.” 
“I can do that.” Wetting your lips, you agreed. “But our legs are gonna fall asleep if we stay like this for too long, Pike.” That made him grin, Marcus’ eyes drifting away briefly and then locking with yours again. 
“It’s only 8:30, but maybe sleep isn’t a bad idea.” He flexed his hips again, a gasp leaving you when the movement sent him even deeper into you, the smile fading into the smirk you loved so much. “You look like you could use it.” 
“So do you.” Circling your hips as you tugged on his hair, you sighed. “We could both also use a shower, hmm? We’re a little …” Squinting at him, you wrinkled your nose. “Sticky.” 
“Not as much as we could be.” Marcus caught you by surprise and kissed you, the press of his mouth soft until he pulled away. “But I agree, a shower would feel incredible.” The pace of his hips increased as you talked, and though you hadn’t realized it, you were clinging to the man again, your body’s response to his building slowly in the same way it had so many times earlier that day. “Come for me, one more time, and then -”
“What about you?” Your mouth fell open, but you squeezed your eyes shut, tightening the muscles in your thighs in an attempt to dull the pleasure you felt. “You said -”
“We’ll see what happens.” His hands moved to your hips, urging you to rock against him and meet each thrust. “Let me feel you like this at least once.” 
The comment caught you off guard but what he was doing felt too good for it to derail you completely. Both of you went quiet as he continued, Marcus’ fingers dimpling your flesh while you braced both hands on his shoulders, chin tilted down so that it was almost touching your chest. 
You’d thought it was impossible only minutes earlier. But with his pace, you knew he was going to ease you over the edge again, the friction of your bodies together - and the coarse hair on his lower belly and pelvis against your skin - giving you exactly what you needed.  “Just like … keep doing that.” Humming out your approval, you nodded without looking back up. “There, Marcus. Right there, you -” 
It was weaker than any of your previous orgasms had been, but it still felt good, your body shuddering as your muscles seized, Marcus’ hips continuing to move throughout. “You feel perfect.” He leaned in, resting his cheek against your temple. “God, that feels great.” The aftershocks pulsed through you, your breath coming out in shaky bursts, but Marcus still didn’t slow, chasing his own release. 
The effect of the drug seemed to be wearing off - you could not only feel it in yourself, but you could tell based on Marcus’ lack of immediacy in following you with a climax. It’s getting a little harder for him, and that’s good. That means everything’s going to go back to normal. Releasing his hair, you stroked the back of his neck and leaned in, lips tracing a path over his jaw and then back before  they parted so that you could take his earlobe between your teeth. “You’re close, Marcus. I can feel it.” 
“I am.” He rasped the words out, nodding. “So close.” You bit down again, the pressure light, and then Marcus said your name, both hands pushing you away instead of holding you close. What? Why is - “Lay down.” He was breathing hard, both eyes wide. “Can’t finish inside. Can’t … not yet.” Not yet? What does - “Please.” 
You moved faster than you had in hours, scrambling off of him and then laying back, your eyes remaining on the man as he shifted into place, kneeling next to you. He was fisting himself again, the motion of his hand languid as he eyed you. “You can touch me, Marcus. I want you to.” 
Your words were all he needed - his free hand reaching out and sliding up and over your skin so that he could palm one breast. Marcus curled his fingers as you arched your back, the warmth of his hand like a magnet for you. 
“Where? Where can I -” It was desperate, but you appreciated him asking. After reaching out to lay a hand against one of his thighs, you gestured to your stomach with your other hand, sighing. 
“How ‘bout right here?” That permission was enough, and wordlessly, the man began to move his fist faster, your attention going from his face to the way he was touching himself. Even though it was dark in the room, the sun totally set and the sky turning a deep shade of blue-black behind the windows, you could see what he was doing, Marcus’ strokes much different than your tentative ones earlier had been. 
He cried out your name as he came, the man’s body going rigid as a short spurt of hot liquid hit your belly. You waited for more but when there was none, you watched as he shifted his attention from your stomach back up to your face, Marcus’ tongue darting out to lick at his lower lip as his grip relaxed. “I think that might be it for me. I feel …” He paused, frowning. “Better.” 
“Good.” You did, too, though there was still something lingering, a sense of discomfort that was centered just beneath the surface of your skin, keeping your muscles more tightly wound than usual. “I don’t know that I could handle anything else right now, no matter how much I want it.” 
“I…” He stopped, frowning. You what? “Do you think you can stand long enough to take a shower? We were supposed to do that earlier, but instead we just…” Marcus tilted his head, the smile appearing back on his lips. “Came straight in here.” 
“This is the fanciest hotel I’ve ever been in, so I’m sure there’s one of those built in seats in the shower.” You moved your hips - careful not to roll onto your side, though you turned your head toward him. “I can manage to get myself in there and sitting upright long enough to rinse off.” He agreed, taking a deep breath. “But we should do it together.” 
“What?” The crease between his brows reappeared, Marcus’ head shaking back and forth slowly. “That doesn’t -” 
“It’ll be faster that way.” You pushed up onto your elbows, nodding to the bathroom door with your chin. “And we can keep an eye on each other. We’re both exhausted, so if one of us falls asleep in there, it could be bad news.” 
He only thought for a few seconds and then nodded, his expression smoothing out. “Can’t argue with that logic, can I?” 
— 
There was a built in seat in the shower, the marbled surface cool against your still overheated skin as Marcus adjusted the water to a good temperature. While you sat, you stared at him and the way his body moved, muscles rippling as he bent and twisted, beads of water making trails down his skin. 
You hadn’t been lying when you said you were exhausted, or that you felt better, but as more time passed, the need you felt was growing again. I wonder if it’s the same for him. “Hey, you still with me?” He’d turned back to face you, one hand held out, palm up. “C’mere.” 
He helped you to your feet, fingers tightening around your wrist, and when you took a step toward him, his other hand moved to your waist, fingers splayed over your hip. “I am. I’m just … I don’t know.” He turned you so that the water was hitting you both, Marcus letting go of your hand and sliding his fingers up your arm. “Feels so good, Marcus.” 
“Mmhmm.” The two of you stood beneath the warm spray for long minutes, his hold on you never wavering while the spray did its job and cleansed your skin. 
Instead, you moved even closer to each other the longer you stood there, finally turning your head to the side so that you could rest your cheek against his chest, both arms around his neck. “Hey.” He cleared his throat, whispering your name. “I know you can probably feel me, and I’m sorry. We don’t have to do anything about it. I know you’re too tired to -” 
“Marcus you’re under the influence of a drug, you don’t need to apologize because you’re the poster child for prolonged erections right now.” Pulling back enough so that you could look up at him, you wrinkled your nose. “You can’t help it, and I don’t want you to.” Dragging the fingers of one hand through his soaked hair, you shrugged. “I’m still just as turned on, even though you can’t see it.” 
“I can feel it, though.” Hmm? “Scully, your nipples are so hard I don’t know how it’s not hurting you.” 
You couldn’t stop the peal of laughter that erupted from your mouth at the matter of fact tone he used for such a ridiculous statement. But when you glanced down, you saw that he was absolutely correct. Well, shit. “I like this version of you, Marcus.” You spoke through laughter, and Marcus’ return smile was genuine - the same expression you’d grown used to being on the receiving end of during the time he’d been in DC. “Not that I don’t like normal you, too, but this … it’s nice to know that you’re…” Smooth. Really smooth. “I just like you, Marcus. A lot, and -”
“Stop.” He blinked twice, his hand resting against the side of your neck. “If we have this conversation, it’s not going to be tonight.” 
“But the honesty thing. I figured you’d -”
“No.” He frowned then, taking a step forward and easing you back and toward the wall. “I need to know you’re being honest because you want to be, not because you have to be.” That makes sense. 
“Ok. Alright.” You gasped at the feeling of the cool tile against your back. “Conversation when we’re sober. Clothes on. Dry.” That made him snort, but you could see that you were losing him again, the man’s pupils dilated, his hand moving to the back of your neck. “I think this water gave the Lapis a second wind. Is that even a thing?”
“I don’t know.” He tilted your head, his tongue dragging over his lip. “Did it give you a second wind?” 
“I wouldn’t mind finding out.” Leaning forward, you kissed his cheek, your lips settling on the bare patch of skin he always complained about - but that you secretly loved. “Would you?”
“Not at all.” He turned his head slowly toward yours, tilting his chin downward as he urged yours up. The kiss you shared was brief but tender, Marcus sighing against your mouth before licking into it, his tongue stroking along yours with purpose. 
When he broke away from you, it was only for a few moments, the man taking a breath and then moving his hands down your arms as he kissed his way lower. Marcus lingered with his lips on your throat, hands placed on your sides, and when you shifted to move your own hands, carding slowly through the soaked hair on his head as you urged him wordlessly to continue, he did. 
You felt him mouthing at your collarbone and then beneath it, Marcus sliding one hand forward to cup the weight of your breast as he trailed his lips over the top swell. Oh he hasn’t… his mouth hasn’t been… 
You’d both been too needy earlier to take things slow, but it seemed like he was trying to rectify that. The man’s mouth was warmer than the water as he kissed across ur skin, pausing before he sealed his plush lips over one nipple. You arched your back at the feeling, shoulders pressed against the wall - and when you moaned his name out, Marcus flicked his tongue against the hardened bud. Oh, shit. 
Bringing his other hand up to mirror the action on the other side of your chest, you watched with hooded eyelids as he pushed your breasts together, releasing the first side and licking across them to take the other into his mouth. It sent a jolt through you - straight from his mouth to your core, and even though your brain wanted him to keep going, your body craved something else. 
“Hey.” He hummed at your voice, but didn’t pull his mouth away, even when you said his name and tugged on his hair. He’s so focused. He’s focused on me and … You closed your eyes, breathing shallowly as you let him continue - the sound of the water splattering against your bodies and the tiled floor of the shower soothing you, along with his continued attention on your slick skin. 
You kept one hand on his hair and moved the other away from him and down your torso, following the same path you’d taken hours earlier. He can keep doing that, but I need to touch myself. I need more. But much like that first time, Marcus halted you before you reached your goal, the man pulling his mouth free with a soft pop that you felt instead of heard. “You keep trying to touch yourself.” He sighed the words out, giving your chest one final squeeze before letting go, both hands moving to your waist and urging you to turn away from him. “When I’m right here and could do it for you.” 
He pressed against you from behind, the man’s chest flat against your back, the length of him hard against the lower part of your body. “What are you waiting for then?” Putting your hands flat against the wall, you rocked your hips backward. You bit back the sound of surprise as he tightened his hold on you, the man anticipating your move. Smart. He’s been with me for one night and he already knows me that well? “Fuck, Marcus. You -”
“Looks like we get to use at least three places in this suite after all.” He kissed the space behind your ear and then dropped his head, resting his temple on the back of your shoulder. “Tell me if you need me to stop, alright?” Nodding in response, you felt him shift, using both hands to pull you further away from the wall by your hips, the arch of your back giving him a better angle. Widening the spread of your legs, you opened your eyes and looked down, the sight of his large hand pressed against your belly making your knees shake. 
Marcus used his other hand to guide himself into place, and even though you were ready and anticipating his entry, the first push into you made you gasp, hips jerking backwards as you sought him out. He murmured your name, returning his hand to your thigh - and then Marcus was fully inside you again. 
Oh fuck, this angle. He feels… Your hands slipped a few inches as he increased the pace, and when you were in the new position, he was able to sink deeper into you, the movement surprising him, too. “Marcus!” You slapped one hand against the wall, head hanging down. “Holy shit.” He only grunted in reply, the hand on your stomach moving lower as he dug the fingers of his other one into the meat of your thigh, keeping you steady. 
You nearly screamed when his fingers made contact with you - sliding between your legs then beginning to move - back and forth first and then in a slow circle, the man alternating between the two motions as he kept his hips moving in a steady pace. “You feel…” He panted between words, sucking breath in between clenched teeth. “So fucking good like this.” 
It was a shock to hear Marcus speak that way - his words and tone at odds with the man you’d gotten to know so well. But it suited him nonetheless, the peek into what he was like beneath his typically calm and composed demeanor making you fall even harder. Because that’s exactly what’s happening here. What’s been happening. Even if he never let you see that side of him again, simply knowing it existed was enough. 
“You’re going to make me come again, Pike.” Mouth falling open in surprise as the tension in your body began to build yet again, you curled your toes in the puddled water beneath your feet, the ends of your fingers also slightly bent. “I don’t even know how it’s possible, but -”
“This isn’t going to happen every time.” Marcus pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades and then rested his forehead there. “So I hope you really enjoy tonight, and -” He grunted, pulling almost all the way out and then sliding back in, his thighs making contact with the backs of your legs. “And don’t hold it against me when we can’t do this again.” 
Every time? That means he’s thinking about the future. “I wouldn’t survive.” You breathed the words out, trembling under his touch. “There’s no way.” You didn’t know if he heard you or not, but Marcus continued what he was doing - his hold accompanied by deep, slow thrusts, your body wedged between his and the wall. It didn’t take long to get you close, Marcus’ skilled fingers finding just the right angle and pressure to drive you wild. 
He seemed to know it, too, doubling down on the efforts with his hand and kissing the back of your shoulder, mumbling words that you couldn’t make out over the sound of the water and your own breathing. 
You’d just opened your mouth to warn him when with one more stroke of his fingers, you came again, the breath tumbling from your lips in a shaky exhale as your muscles tightened, thigh tensing beneath his touch. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit, you just…” He groaned, continuing to move, thrusts just a little more erratic, the pads of the man’s fingers still gliding over you, though much more slowly. 
You didn’t know where to focus, and so you didn’t even try, instead only doing what was necessary to keep yourself upright and on both feet. The aftershocks of your orgasm pulsed around him each time he was fully inside of you, keeping you full. God he feels incredible. Your mouth was hanging open, the top of your head resting against the wall as your bent elbows supported as much of your weight as they could. 
And then he was gone, the emptiness left behind making you whip your head to the side as you gasped out his name. Where’d he go? You didn’t need to wait long, Marcus crying out your name as he fisted himself once more, short quick strokes bringing him the final way over the edge. He came on the small of your back, the heat of it mixing with the water that was still raining down on you before it dripped down your legs. Fuck. 
You hung your head, eyes finally closing, and then Marcus was turning you again, your back pressed to the tile as he crowded you against it. When you met his gaze, you saw the warmth in his eyes, his lips set into the tiniest of satisfied smiles. “That alright?”
“More than alright.” You reached out for him, hands going to his slim waist, and when he leaned in to kiss you again, you didn’t stop him. That kiss was slow and openmouthed, one of his hands slipping between the back of your head and the wall as he urged you to step forward and under the stream of water.
You stayed there, wrapped in his arms for countless minutes, and when Marcus finally broke away with a shaky breath, he was grinning. “Forgot we were in a hotel. The water’s not going to run cold.” You laughed at that, the sound echoing off of the glass walls. “You clean enough?” Nodding in agreement, you slicked his wet hair back with one hand. I’m going to have to be.
“I’m ready to lay back down. Maybe we should use the other bed, though. The first one’s a little … messy.” He didn’t disagree, and only a few minutes later, the two of you were towel-dried and laying in the second bed, the curtains pulled tightly shut to block out the light from the surrounding buildings - and the morning sunrise. Neither of you had bothered to get dressed after your shower, but you had brought your bags with you from the main room for easy access when you woke.
It was quiet in the room, the sounds of traffic below you muffled by the distance and the thick window glass - but all you could focus on was Marcus’ heartbeat, the steady thump pulsing against your palm. You were cozy beneath the bedding, your naked bodies curled around each other, and for the first time since before your fight with him days earlier, you were completely relaxed. 
“It’s wearing off.” He sighed, raising his hips and then settling them back against the mattress. “I feel more like myself.” 
“I do, too.” You frowned, taking a breath and then beginning to move your hand, swiping it slowly over his chest. “I’m just … tired. Exhausted, actually. You wore me out, Marcus Pike.” He chuckled, the rustle of the blankets quiet. 
“I still want you, though.” It froze you in place, hand halted against his skin. But you said we weren’t going to do that tonight. Not until - “I just want you to know that. I’m not … I really don’t plan on trying to make sure things go back to how they were, or pretend this didn’t happen. There’s no point.” 
“So what are you saying?” You pushed onto one elbow, looking down at him. “Marcus?” It was too much to hope for - that the two of you would emerge from the room and everything would just continue between you - but you couldn’t help feeling a tiny spark of excitement at the thought that it might. 
“We’ll talk about it later, like we said earlier. But …” He reached up, fingers glancing off of your temple and then curling against your cheek. “But you know the truth now, and so do I. And … and we go from there, if you want to.” 
“Ok.” There was more you wanted to say to him, but you wanted to be clear-headed when you did. And I want the same from him. I want to know it’s all him and not he Lapis. “Ok, Marcus.” 
Every part of you felt heavy, and you were counting down the seconds until you could collapse against the mattress, closing your eyes and letting sleep take you. But you weren’t too tired to lean down and kiss him one more time, the press of your lips lingering against his. 
You tried to break the kiss but Marcus didn’t let you. His hand curved around the back of your head to hold you in place as he inhaled. “One more.” You hummed in reply, the sound closer to a sigh than anything else and then kissed him again, his other arm beneath your body and wound around your waist, palm flat against your lower back. Only one? 
He ended it with a short peck to the corner of your mouth, pausing before he relaxed against the mattress and loosened his hold on you so that you could lay back down, too. As the two of you got comfortable, you began to doze off again, breaths lengthening as his did the same. In the dark, long minutes later, you heard Marcus’ voice, the words already thick with exhaustion - and so quiet you weren’t sure whether or not you’d imagined them. 
“I can’t wait to wake up next to you tomorrow.” 
—  
Surprise, there’s going to be one more chapter coming to tie everything up ... should be up tomorrow, but it may need to be pushed until Wednesday - we’ll see. 
Tag list reblog coming soon. 
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prose-for-hire · 11 months
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Hello can i ask for a Spike x 20 something female reader. She is a demon but she looks human, here's the kicker she's tiny like REALLY tiny, small enough to fit in somones hand. Shes about 6-7 inches tall and she's small permanently like all the time.AvatarnovenaproxySpike would have heard about what type of demon she is but he just thought they're a myth so he'd be suprised and curious about her. I also imagine y/n would be pretty skiddish being so small means being rather vulnerable
I can't get the idea out of my head of Spike teasing the reader by tickling her under her chin with his finger 😳 I also imagine apon seeing Spike she'd try to hide from him can be intimidating and she's vulnerable as mentioned previously.
A/n: As described above, reader is super tiny so don't feel obliged to read if you're not into it !!
You can always send me in a little prompt of your own and if it takes my inspiration I will write you something small (like this reader lol)
Warning: little fight. Biting (but not what you think).
Spike and fem!demon!reader (srry they don't get on) 💖
Bite back:
Spike was lonely. He can only think that was why he had done it. I mean, sure, he was curious but he could have just a sooner read up on your kind. God knows he had the time. An eternity, even.
He was bored and honestly, you had been annoying him. Buzzing about, standing on the bar and commenting on everything he was doing. He had tried to swat you away more than once but you had been persistently bothering him since he had arrived.
That was, until he snatched you up along with a beer for the road, pocketed you and took him to his crypt. He grumbled the entire time, you only caught some of it after having a fight with some of the lint and crap rolling about in his pocket. He kept his hand in there, preventing you from making a big jump and escaping from his grip.
He let you out once he closed the door, setting you on the table next to his sofa and staring at you as if you were some kind of annoying bug. Poking and prodding at you.
Usually, you had confidence bigger than your height. You were decidedly palm-sized in stature. But now, suddenly, you were frightened.
You ran, hiding behind cobwebs and piles of crap that spike had left around his crypt. He chased you around, every step of his like a small earthquake to you. He eventually managed to snatch you up again.
“Not so tough now are you, pet?”
“I’m not some pet! Let me go!” You squealed, struggling against his closed hand.
"Now, now don't get your knickers in a twist" he chuckled, moving his free hand to tickle under your chin. You scowled, announcing him as your enemy which made him chuckle even harder.
You made a decision, biting down on his pointer finger, making him yelp in surprise rather than pain. He shook his hand to try and get you off but you had clamped down, trying your best to hurt him. You eventually let go, the force of the way his hand was shaking to remove you sent you flying across the room.
"Bloody women! Even when you're bloody pintsize you give me nothin' but hassle!" He shouted, kicking various pieces of furniture in his home.
"Maybe it's because you treat us like objects" You frowned, though anyone looking would probably describe it as cute.
"Not my fault you look like a bloody thimble now is it" He shouted vaguely in the direction of your voice.
You hid for a while, moving slightly if spike got close to finding you. Eventually he got bored and went to watch tv.
You had a plan. You had found that you could climb up the crumbling wall to unlatch the lock on his door. But you needed a distraction.
You quietly made your way to his fridge, hoping to find something you could work with. Your eyes lit up as you managed, with a lot of effort, to pop open the door and clamber up the shelves to look inside.
You crashed about in the fridge as you turned the lid of a jar. Spike heard something and muted the tv. He didn't have much going on in his life at the moment, what with being recently chipped and all, so the prospect of annoying and teasing you was too great.
"Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum, I smell the blood of-" Spike "No, I actually do smell blood. This should be fun" he grinned, following the scent to his fridge.
You tipped it so that it spilled over him. Laughing at his curses and yells you as he tried to wipe it off him only to spread it around more.
You took your chance, taking a running jump at the wall and unlatching the lock on your first try. You let the door open itself and slid through the widening crack.
"This isn't the bloody end of this! I'll find you again you sodding jumped up little Thumbelina!" He insisted, watching you running out of the door and into the soft light of dawn.
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abcd-em · 5 days
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6 & 23 for the writer ask game please? :)
6. do you have any kind of consistent writing schedule or just hoping for the best?
It's a little bit of hope for the best on WHAT I'm writing but at minimum I try to write everyday - i can usually write a chapter a day depending on the length and contents. Sometimes life gets in the way - this week has been a great example of that, my brain just hasn't been in it to write longer chapters
23. how do you deal with writers block?
If its writers block caused by my own skill: I take a break, sit with the feeling and figure out next steps. Is it just the horrors™️ or is it that I've bitten off more than I can chew then I'll jump to something different or new that I'm comfortable with so I can shake those cobwebs away. It helps build my confidence back up
If its caused by lack of ideas or lack of direction: I read a lot, watch something new and listen to music that inspired the fic. I keep chopping away at the part of the fic that I can.
Fic ask game
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the-hinky-panda · 1 year
Text
Day 7: Cobweb
This is my first time writing for Benny “Borracho” Magalon so go easy on me. 
10/7: Cobweb
Universe // Characters: Benny “Borracho” Magalon
Rating: This one is a soft R for language and mild spiciness. 
“Weren’t we supposed to get the lab report on the shell casings?” Conners puts his feet up on the corner of his desk. 
Borracho shuffles through the papers and files on his desk. “Supposed to. Don’t see ‘em yet. Lemme check email.” 
“Don’t fuckin’ bother,” Nick yells from his office. “Fuckin’ internet is down again.” 
Henderson gives a lopsided grin. “Sounds like someone had his porn interrupted. Again.” 
“Fuck you!” Nick shouts back. “Borracho, call down to IT. See if you can light a fire under their asses.” 
Borracho grumbles but picks up the phone away. “Why is it always me?” 
“Because that cute little IT girl likes you,” Zapata snorts. 
Henderson leans back in his chair. “And Z here struck out with her so she won’t do shit for him. But our man B here still has a chance.” 
Borracho flips them off just as you answer the phone. 
“IT. Yes, we know the internet is down. Yes, we’re trying to get it up and running again as soon as possible. Yes, we know you have very important jobs to do.” 
He clenches his jaw to keep from smiling at the level of exasperation in your voice. “It’s Magalon from Major Crimes.” 
There’s half a beat of silence on the other end of the phone and then. “Yes, I will meet you in the server room in five minutes.” 
He hangs up the phone and makes note of the time. In three minutes he’ll get up and leave but until then, he fiddles with the computer mouse and acts like he’s trying to solve the problem. 
“Well?” Nick comes out of his office, chomping loudly on something. “What’d IT say?” 
“Something about a car accident knocking out a tower. They told me to try to reconnect on the computer and if that didn’t work, go reset the server.” 
“So, we’re fixing it now ourselves?” Nick scoffs. “What’re we fucking paying them for? Probably just some fucking technical college moron paid to push buttons and record our calls.” 
“Or monitor our browsing history,” Henderson hides a smile behind his protein shake. 
“That’s why you watch it on your phone, asshole.” Nick responds. “What are you, a fucking ameture?”  
Three minutes is up and Borracho stands up from his desk, heading out of the bullpen and towards the server room. Not knowing who he might run into on the forty-three second walk to the glorified closet that houses the servers and modems for the LA Sheriff's department, he keeps his head down and continues to tamper down the smile that threatens to show on his face. 
You’re not some moron from a technical college paid to push buttons. You’re a graduate of MIT and also hold a Masters from Cal Tech. You’re a freaking genius, trying to get into the FBI as an intelligence analyst with a focus on internet and social media postings. He remembers listening to you in the dark bedroom, your eyes bright even in the dim lighting, as you talked about algorithms and online flags that you were in the process of developing in an effort to track social media posts that could be used as warning signs for potential mass shooters. 
He pushes open the door to the server room and you’re already there, swinging wildly at something in the corner and sputtering. He automatically reaches for his pistol thinking there was someone else in there that you are trying to defend yourself against but as his eyes adjust, he sees it’s just you. 
“Boxing with a ghost there, mamí?” 
You’re still spitting and pawing at the air. “Damn cobwebs! Doesn’t anyone clean in here?!” 
“Why would they clean a closet?” 
“Because there’s over half a million dollars worth of equipment here that is being used to keep LA safe.” 
Borracho laughs shortly and steps over to you, tugging his flannel shirt over his hand and swiping over your face. “I don’t think it’s working. How’s that?” 
You wiggle your nose and pass a hand over your cheeks. “Good.” 
The smile he’s been holding back finally emerges. “Good.” 
He leans down and presses his lips to yours and you lean into him. There is no hesitation on your part, there never has been from the first time he kissed you in this enclosed space. Your arms slide around his chest, your fingers press into his shoulder blades, and it feels like you’re trying to superimpose yourself on him. He’s going to feel the press of your body against him for the rest of the day, clinging to him with the stubbornness of cobwebs. 
You slip your tongue into his mouth and he pushes you back against the cement wall with a low growl. He moves his knee between your legs and feels your grind against his thigh. He’s trying to remember if he has a condom in his wallet when you tip your head back and break the kiss. 
“Benny…” 
God, he loves hearing you say his name. He starts pressing open mouth, sloppy kisses along your perfumed neck. 
“Benny.” 
You’re more insistent but he’s still focused on the slender column of your throat.
“Benjamin!” 
He groans in frustration and takes half a step back. “IT should stand for ‘infuriating tease.’” 
You laugh lightly. “I’m sorry, baby. Tonight though?” 
It’s a Friday night and Nick is having one of his parties. But fuck it. You’re the only addictive substance and girl he wants. “Yeah, tonight. Six?”
“Your place or mine?” 
He smiles and presses a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll pick you up. Let’s do a proper date tonight.” 
“Oh my. What’s the occasion?” 
I love you. You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you have no business giving me a second look but you did and now I can’t get enough of you. That’s what he wants to say but all he manages is a small shrug and “No reason.” 
You hum in acceptance. “Okay. Six it is. And Benny?” 
“What?” 
You reach off to the side and press a switch, the modem that sends the connection to Major Crimes thrumming to life. “You really need to stop turning off the modem to get me up here.”
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Text
Tears of Fire
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[image description: a photo of a rose lit on fire, set against a dim backdrop] [photo from Unsplash]
Filling out the prompt "we'll see each other again kisses" from this prompt list with Elliot and Princess Hestia, from my WIP Fractured Stars Falling. May or may not be canon later (at least the scene will be if the actual words written won't), this is just me filling out a writing prompt with my characters for a writing exercise. Does take place during Handsome and the Beast.
Warnings: a fuck ton of angst, first draft with minimal editing (aka just basic grammar stuff)
Word Count: 1084
Song: my tears ricochet, by Taylor Swift ; exile, by Taylor Swift (listen while reading for extra angst)
Fractured Stars Falling Taglist: @rose-bookblood @chalcid @evethenovicewriter
~~~~🌹~~~~
They drifted out of the ballroom, and as the music faded they danced slowly for a minute before starting to walk. The garden was beautiful, a light blanket of snow starting to cover the overgrown flowers and rose hedges, the snowflakes highlighted by the full moon.
They walked for a good hour before Elliot’s coat couldn’t keep him warm anymore. Instead of going to the ballroom, when they went back inside the castle Hestia led him up a staircase.
“Where are we going?” Elliot asked.
“I want to show you something,” Hestia said, her eyes flicking back to him and his golden yellow suit again and again as she tried to hide her reddening face.
Elliot could hardly blame her, he was doing the same with his blushing cheeks every time he admired how stunning she was in that dark blue dress.
At the top of the staircase, Hestia pushed open the old door. On the other side was a small room. There wasn’t much, only a tall window that let in moonlight, a mirror covered by a cloth, an old trunk in the corner, and musty rafters overhead filled with cobwebs.
“What’s this?” Elliot asked, grabbing the edge of the cloth.
“It shows you whatever you want,” Hestia said, “Answers, memories, anything really.” She grabbed the other edge of the cloth and pulled it off the mirror, revealing a tainted silver frame around a crystal clear reflection. Hestia looked into the mirror, and the mirror’s surface rippled, revealing a different scene on the other side.
It was the same castle, but new and thriving on a sunny day. In the courtyard, a young girl that looked like Hestia was playing with a bunch of kids her age that had the same dark hair and olive skin. All of the girls blasted different elements into the air as they played, the one in the center having the most fun making balls of fire. Faint laughter and shouting could be heard coming from the reflection.
Hestia stared at the reflection in a sad trance, slipping her hand inside Elliot’s. Not knowing what to say, Elliot just squeezed her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles comfortingly.
After a minute, Hestia said, “Is there anything you want to see?”
Elliot nodded without a word, and Hestia stepped aside. When he looked directly into the mirror, the surface rippled, and changed again. 
It was his house, warm and cozy in the winter night. His father, wearing the same clothes that Elliot had last seen him wearing, lay on the sofa, weak, pale and sweating. Grandmother was sitting in her chair, unable to do much more than direct Daisy, who was desperately trying to take care of his father.
Elliot’s heart sank. “Papa… Grandmother and Daisy can’t take care of him on their own. And where’s the doctor?” He stepped away, shaking his head. “He was fine, he should be fine- He was fine when I sent him home…. This can’t be happening-” His hand was shaking as he ran it through his blonde locks, trying to think.
Hestia, who was holding his other hand, squeezed it. “You need to go to them.”
Elliot blinked. “What? No- I can’t just leave you-”
Hestia shook her head. “They need you.” She walked over to a nearby dusty trunk, and opened it. Inside, there was only a ring. It was a pretty silver thing, with a light green jewel in the middle that twinkled in the dim light. She brought it over to him. “This will take you and whatever you’re touching there instantly if you just think about where you want to go and twist it around your finger.” She added, “And those roses out in the gardens, they’re healing roses. You can take a whole bud if you want, but just one petal will be enough to heal almost any sickness.”
“I’m not leaving you-”
“I’ll be ok, I’ve been alone for so long I’m used to it now,” Hestia told him, “One of those roses can heal your father, and he and your family need you.”
Grabbing both of her hands and turning her to face him, Elliot looked into her warm amber brown eyes that glowed like a comforting fireplace during a blizzard. “I will come back for you.”
Hestia looked away, slowly shaking her head. “No one’s ever stayed this long. And I know you’ll forget about me.”
“Hestia.”
She hesitantly looked back at him, tears starting to burn behind her eyes.
Elliot dropped both her hands to gently cup her face. “It’s not goodbye forever. Once my father is well again, I’ll come back for you. We’ll see each other again, I promise.” He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, having to raise up on his tiptoes a little bit.
Both of their faces were wet with tears now as he pressed his forehead against hers for a minute. Hestia softly guided his hands away from her face and kissed his cheek, barely there for fear that it may never be returned.
Hestia took a deep breath, shaky from the tears. “You should go. And you don’t have to come back.”
Elliot gave her a small smile, “I know I don’t have to, but I want to. I want to see you again and make sure you’re not pushing everyone away.”
A small, breathy laugh escaped Hestia. “Go. They need you.”
Nodding, Elliot gave her one last kiss, one that lingered on her hand as he ran his thumb across her knuckles. As he left for the door, he kept holding it, not letting go until the last possible second.
She watched through the window as Elliot stood outside the castle with his horse, the saddle bags packed. The servants were standing in the doorway of the castle, waving goodbye. He carefully cut a rose from the nearby bush, and tucked it in his coat that he hadn’t the time to change out of. Then he climbed on his horse, waved goodbye to the servants, cast one look up at the window where she stood- then twisted the ring on his finger.
And then he was gone.
And Hestia screamed so loud she was sure the whole world heard it, as she collapsed to her knees and fire erupted in her hands, burning brighter than ever and burning everything as her heart felt like it was ripped out of her chest- she knew that the sweet bookworm who had been so kind to her would never return.
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nyxetoile · 1 year
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State of the Fic
Ahem. Been a while since I did one of these, huh? How’ve you been? How’s the family?
Right. You’ve probably noticed our output has slowed down and there’s nothing really actively posting right now. Just want to say that, generally speaking, Olives and I are okay. No major issues going on, just a lot of little life things one after the other. Some good, some bad, all of them taking up bandwidth that might be used to writing. Olives got Covid that left her in a bit of a fog Then she got a new manager and stopped hating her job, so it’s getting more of her brain power. I’m at the tail end of my annual bout of SADS. Disney Dreamlight Valley is really addicting. Kids are in school husbands are fine. Life is going on.
The big problem right now, to be honest, is Marvel hasn’t really been putting out anything to grab us. Nothing that give us any inspiration anyway. We enjoyed Love and Thunder, I’ve watched a few of the recent Disney + shows, but nothing has inspired any plots. We have a lot of WiPs and AUs that we peck out, but without fresh, distracting ideas it’s easy to let life get in the way. We’re still writing, because we’ll always be writing, but not with the frequency or consistency we do when there’s a fire under us. Maybe Black Panther will shake something loose, but with Boseman gone, I think it might just be too sad.
That being said, I have high hopes for Thunderbolts. It think it’s an awesome lineup full of characters we’ve been wanting to do things with, including Yelena and Taskmaster. Plus any Bucky content is good. And I’m really hoping Zemo shows up so we can have more Amanda and Zemo show. The new Captain America movie has potential as well, but those are both out summer of ‘24. I don’t know what, if anything, will interest us in ‘23. Hopefully we can shake off some mental cobwebs and get some ideas going or finish some WiPs but when and which ones I can’t tell you. We will try to get some fun stuff up for the holidays, as we usually do. We do love our readers and hate to leave them without entertainment, so I promise we will make an effort to get you some good content before the end of the year.
If any of you have ideas or plot bunnies or things you always wished we’d do, send them to me. I can’t promise anything, but inspiration comes in all forms and all we need is a spark.
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imaginyimagines · 2 years
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Unexpected Reunion - Ch. 2
A/N: I was inspired by @let-me-love-you-loki​ and her amazing fics and I decided to write out the fictions I wanted to, for me. This is an AU pairing of my main OC Sabrina ‘Rina’ McMahon and Nick Jackson of the Young Bucks! I also tried going back and forth between perspectives for the first time!
Chapter 1 
On with Chapter 2~
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Nick I was only vaguely familiar with what hit me in the head, and the surprise was enough to send me over to my back. The laughs from the guys let me know they knew precisely what they were doing.
"Nick?" God, her voice saying my name was a drug I was willing to hit a thousand times a day. She giggled, and I opened my eyes to see her above me. Another sight I wanted to repeat a million times. "You okay?"
"Physically, yes. My ego will be bruised and require treatment for many days; I'll be accepting applications for a nurse." In joking, I figured I could slip in a subtle flirtation and see how she responded. She giggled again, stepping back as I got to my feet and dusted myself off.
"My schedule is completely open, Nick. You just let me know when you need some…attention…" A blush bloomed across the apples of her cheeks, and she skipped toward the group, leaving me dazed in her wake. I needed a moment to shake the cobwebs free and process that. Heat raced up to my face as the rest of the group enjoyed laughing at the exchange.
"I might take you up on that," I grumbled as I walked into step with my brother. He just shook his head at me as we continued our way back to the building. Things fell back to regular conversations, and soon we piled ourselves into the elevator. We offloaded onto our respective floors, and everyone disappeared down the halls to their rooms.
Rina As the group split up for the night, I couldn't get to my room fast enough. My boldness soon ran away from me, and I kicked myself for what I allowed myself to say to Nick. Around the rest of the group as well, no less. Hopefully, it would all be forgotten in the morning until AJ grabbed me by the belt loops of my jeans.
"Hold on there, cowgirl. What's with you and Nick?" He backed me up against the wall with a Cheshire-like grin. I looked down at the carpet sheepishly. The only answer I could give with any certainty was a shrug. AJ wasn't accepting this as an answer, though, crossing his arms across his chest and awaiting further explanation. I sighed, took him by the shoulder, and asked him to come into my room. I didn't want to blast this tale to everyone in the hallway. Once inside the room, I plopped on the bed with a sigh. AJ sat at the foot of the bed and gestured with his hand that the floor was mine.
"So back in TNA, I met both of the Jacksons in 2009 and 2010. They were working with the Guns then, and Caly had a short fling with Matt. We spent a lot of time together, and back then, at least, Nick had a bit of a puppy dog crush on me." I looked down as the blush bloomed across my cheeks again. "I thought he was the sweetest thing ever, but I was in a relationship. And seeing him again gave me feelings I didn't know were still there. At least on my side."
"Oh, he is still a puppy for you. He couldn't take his eyes off you, not from when we met with them. And it's maybe cute; I think he'd be good for you." I stared at my best friend in wonder. No way he could still have feelings for me! A good, sweet, kind, and gentle soul like that couldn't possibly be interested in a misfit like me. I shook my head in disbelief. AJ ruffled my hair. "We'll see. I'm sure you won't be able to pretend not to notice for long. Just try to enjoy yourself here, alright?"
"AJ, thanks again for inviting me along," My best friend got up and went back to his room, and I laid back on the bed. AJ's take on Nick and how he felt about me replayed in my head. I hadn't noticed him staring, where I certainly had with Marty. At that moment in the restaurant, I bumped into his hand, and we locked eyes, but that could be a fluke. Curling up on the bed, I pledged to be more aware in the coming days.
Nick The following day I woke up and decided to accompany Matt on his morning jaunt for coffee. I didn't drink the stuff often, but I knew she did. And as luck would have it, she was already at the station where the coffee was. I quickly straightened out my sleep-rumpled shirt and smoothed back my ponytail. Matt watched this with an entertained smile on his face. He went over to the station and casually bumped Rina with his shoulder. 
"Good morning," He greeted her. "Not sure how I feel about someone beating me to the coffee," She laughed, throwing her hair back out of her face. 
"Morning. You'll have to get up early to beat me to coffee, Mr. Jackson." She turned around and rested against the corner of the counter. "Oh, good morning to you too, Nick!" I could feel my cheeks heat up with her noticing me and sounding so happy. 
"I had to ensure my big brother stayed on his best behavior while searching out the solution to his caffeine addiction." I teased as he looked back at me with a scowl. 
"Spoken like a true younger sibling," She said, toasting me with her paper cup. 
"Oh, no wonder you guys get along so well. Annoying younger siblings." Matt quipped with a smirk. 
"No wonder you're so uppity, stuck-up older siblings," Rina responded, not missing a beat and giving a smirk of her own. My brother and I burst out laughing as we moved away from the counter and towards a seating area in the corner. Rina followed us as the rest of the group shuffled along from the elevator bay and joined us. 
Rina Settling into the overstuffed chair, I felt very much at ease with the group around me. I could get used to this, I thought. I brought the warm coffee to my lips with a smile and inhaled its aroma. Oh yes, I could get used to this...
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top-tier-tickles · 2 years
Text
Loathe Me, Loathe My Mug
This is a cuphead angst fix requested by an anonymous user. I really hope you enjoy it, I've never wrote an angst fic before, so please give me some feedback.
__________________________________________
In the dark of the night, a cozy cottage set atop the hill. A snoozing goat laid outside, inside, a Kettle snored away, small puffs of steam spouting out of his nose with each exhale. Down the hall, two brothers slept, the older of the two on the bottom bunk, the younger resting on the top.
Everything seemed just and perfect, until a looming shadow met the window, it creaked open, and Mugman was slowly taken out of his bed by a pair of silk gloves.
The blue mug shifted at the feeling of being lifted from the plush mattress, only to be rocked back to deep sleep by the slow rumble of a moving car.
He slowly began to wake up again, feeling chilly air, the only warmth he had was his blanket, which wad wrapped around him so tightly that he could barely move.
The sound of a overhead light flicking on was enough to jostle him awake.
"Hm? What..."
"Hello, Moogman.."
No. That voice. It couldn't be...
"L-Ludwig?!" Mugman, now fully awake, trying to wiggle out of the tight wrap, "How? I thought you were in jail!"
"You'd be surprised at what you can get away with when your family is as influential as mine..." The phonograph said, a dark chuckle following.
"Why did you bring me here? Where am i?!" Mugman's voice pitched up higher as his fear rose.
"You think you can crush me with a piano, then humiliate me and get away with it?" Ludwig tapped his finger on the side of his head, strangely enough, his glove was gone, "No, I won't let that happen! I will see to it that I have my revenge!"
"Renvenge?! W-What do you want? The money?-" Mugman began to ramble.
"No. The money is the least of my concerns. I want to enlist you to do something." Ludwig said.
"It will be difficult to get back into the music scene with everything that happened, and I cannot write pieces in that little amount of time. So, you're going to do it for me."
"B-But why me? You said so yourself, piano isn't my thing-"
"Oh please, after spending the whole day with your brother, it was evident that he isn't competent enough for this."
Mugman remained silent.
"But, you are. And you're going to write songs for me to perform, got that? You don't have a choice."
"And what happens if I don't?" The mug was almost scared to ask the question.
"Well, we'll simply see how YOU like being crushed with a heavy object." Ludwig got up, and walked towards the door.
"Don't disappoint me."
He closed the door behind him, a clicking sound following. Mugman was locked in.
He stared at the floor silently, unable to move. His breath shallow, and his eyes beginning to dry from not blinking.
Mugman started breathing deeply, he'd read about how that calms you down. He began to try and wiggle his way out of the blanket that confined him. Only managing to gain a little freedom of his legs, Mugman attempted to stand up from the chair.
Only to hit the concrete floor in mere seconds.
The floor was dirty, layers of sand, dirt and even cobwebs caked it. Mugman despised a dirty floor, especially having his face planted right on it.
He tried to free himself once again, the attempt was in vain.
Mugs rolled onto his back, the dim ceiling light shining into his eyes. Thoughts began to swim around in his brain.
Why did this have to happen to him?
What was gonna happen to him?
How long until people find out?
How long until Cuphead comes to rescue him?
What if....
Cuphead doesn't come at all....
Upon that bone-chilling thought, thousands of fears and anxieties swarmed throughout his mind. His breathing quickened. The blanket felt as if it was choking him, no escape, and barely getting air.
Tears dropped onto the concrete as they rolled off of his face.
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"Mornin' Mugsy." Cuphead yawned, "How'd ya sleep?"
No answer.
Strange, by this time Mugman was shaking Cuphead awake, telling him to "be productive".
"Mugsy? You up?"
Nothing.
Okay, something's wrong.
The red cup shuffled out of his bottom bunk, climbing the ladder to find an empty bed with the covers gone.
"Mugman?"
Hastily, Cuphead looked around their bedroom for any clues to where his now missing brother is.
Suddenly, he saw it.
There, snagged on a protruding splinter on the window frame, was a glove.
A piano playing glove.
Cuphead's face went red with rage, milk bubbling out of his head and straw.
"Oooh, that no-good, dirty-" he grumbled, picking up the glove. "Don't you worry, Mugsy. I'm on my way."
__________________________________________
Croaks sniffed in the ocean breeze deeply, sighing out an exhale.
"Gotta love that mornin' sea wind, ey Ribby?"
Ribby, looked up from his newspaper and nodded, taking another sip of his coffee.
Suddenly, a knock at the door broke the silence.
"Who could that be?"
The frog brothers opened the door to their boat home, surprised to see a red cup standing outside.
"Cuphead? What brings you for a visit?" Ribby leaned on the doorframe.
"Not that we're not happy to see you, of course!" Croaks quickly added.
Cuphead gave no answer. His face had a mixed expression. He looked angry, but also sad. He clenched the clue in his own gloved hand as big, warm tears welled up in his eyes.
"Woah, hey! Woah, woah. You alright, kid?" Croaks, put his hand on Cuphead's shoulder.
"Of course he ain't alright, look at 'em!"
"Not now, Ribby."
Cuphead was now full-on sobbing, barely able to get words out.
"M-Mugman... He took him..."
"Someone took your brother?! Who?!" Ribby asked, the cracking of him knuckles being heard through his boxing gloves.
"His old piano teacher. The one that stole my song."
"Is that so? Well, lead the way, he ain't getting away with this!"
___________________________________________
Mugman stayed lying on the floor like that for quite a while. The tear tracks on his face had long dried, making more floor dirt stick to him.
How long had he been here? Minutes? Hours? All day?
He guessed he was lucky that Ludwig hadn't been bothered to check on him.
Suddenly, a heavy force cracked right through the door, shattering it.
Mugman shrank.
"Mugsy!"
"Cuphead?"
The brothers nearly slammed into each other. Cuphead wrapped his arms around his brother, internally swearing to never let go.
"Are you okay?! He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"No, I'm okay."
"Well, that's a relief." Ribby and Croaks appeared behind him.
"What? What're you two doing here?"
"Well, Cups here came to us when he found you missing from your bed."
"Wow. Thank you guys..." Mugman felt like he could cry again.
"Eh, don't sweat it. Like we said, yous guys is family! You ask, we'll help you."
"Alright, let's go home, I'm hungry!" Cuphead said.
The four passed through the house, passing a knocked out Ludwig lying on the floor, the cylinder on his head bent and a few teeth missing.
They happily continued out the door, ready to put this behind them.
___________________________________________
THE END.
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tbh I’m thinking this block is powered mostly by intense internal criticism leading to the point of imagination censorship. I’ve been banging my head against this wall trying to figure out how to get around it and it’s just 🤔 not clicking. i want to write these stories so much that I don’t want to move on and lose desire to write them by trying to shake off the cobwebs writing other things. yet that is probably what would help me 😐 ah well 😉 what if the key to my motivation lies in my excitement to improve upon my past work? yet, am I finding any joy in it? banging my head against the WALL over here.
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thejokersenigma · 2 years
Text
Loki Laufeyson x Reader - All Coming Back to Me - Part 2
So.... It's been a long time....
Sorry I haven't been writing in a long time, I can't even guarantee I'm back, or - more importantly - that my writing will be any good anymore!
I want to start writing again however, and I think Fan Fiction is a good place to practice, so I guess if you have any requests fire them at me and I'll see what I can do. Might not be as quick/as good as I use to be because I'm rusty and I want to dedicate some time to some original fiction too.
However, I did manage to write a small part to this series I started... It is only short and I haven't actually edited it, so I apologise if there's many mistakes, I just wanted to get something out there to shake off the cobwebs!
The characters might not be great - I obviously haven't been writing them for ages! - and I literally just wrote this so I can't say it'll be any good story-wise either...
Let me know what you think anyway!
MASTERLIST
You had needed a change and New York certainly was it, you thought as you gazed out from the balcony over the city below. The wind whipped coolly at your shoulders, but you welcomed the cold reminding of you the home you had left for here. Permanently? You weren’t sure. At least you head didn’t hurt here. Your heart not ache for something else.
Here wasn’t home. You knew that. No city could be, you enjoyed greenery too much.
You sighed out loud, rubbing the goose bumps on your exposed arms. Movement out of the corner of your eye made you turn as someone entered the living space behind you through the glass doors. Barton raised his hand in greeting to you as he moved through to the kitchen. You smiled pleasantly back, lifting your hand off your arm briefly to return his gesture.
You glanced once more out at the overcast city sky then ventured back inside, the warmth immediately making your skin tingle pleasantly.
“Coffee?” Barton called from the kitchen, noticing your entrance.
“Tea, if that’s ok.” You replied with an apologetic smile
“Of course.” He smirked, catching your anxiety and trying to put you at ease.
You wandered a few paces as you thought over your words. “Have you seen, Thor?” You eventually called, voice cracking slightly and you flinched silently in embarrassment.
If Barton noticed, he ignored it. “He’s out bringing in trouble.” He answered, turning now to place too steaming mugs on the kitchen’s breakfast bar. You frowned. Barton raised an eyebrow, then smirked. “His brother.” He clarified.
Of course, you thought, wrapping your hands around your mug.
“Should be back any moment though.” Barton reassured you, monitoring your expression. You nodded in thought, eyes on the liquid steaming calmly between your hands. “You know him?” Barton ventured after a moment.
“Hm?” You glanced up, having been lost in thought, though you couldn’t have said what that thought had been about.
Barton’s eyes crinkled with a teasing, but friendly, smirk, “Do you know Loki?” He repeated patiently, “You seem pretty close with Thor.”
You felt an odd ache in your forehead. It wasn’t a sharp pain like a headache, but it was an odd discomfort. It then vanished as soon as it had come. You lifted your hand to rub the spot, but the pain did not return. You frowned, but then shook your head, offering a smile to Barton’s concerned look. “Slight head ache.” You explained, then nodded, “Yes, I would say I am reasonably close with Thor, I must admit I feel like I’ve known him since we were only children.” So how did I not know he had a brother? “But I have never met Loki.” You confessed, bringing the tea up to your lips, “I didn’t even know he had a brother.” You said taking a sip.
Barton frowned slightly, seemingly as confused as you. “Well if I were you I tried to miss him again, he isn’t the best guy to hang out with.” He muttered, swing his own coffee cup up to take a drink.
“Why?” You frowned, intrigued.
“He isn’t much like Thor… Except the powers.” Barton conceded, “Their personalities are quite different. Personally I’ve had a run in or two with him. Don’t wish to relive it.” He admitted.
At that moment an intercom beeped and Tony Starks voice filled the room, “Point breaks back. Get yourselves ready.” There was a pause. “And despite what Thor said I’m still gonna be packing a bit of wallop up my sleeve just in case - anyone else is welcome to join me.”
The intercom shut off.
“Well,” Barton sighed, moving out of the kitchen and into the living space with you, “if you don’t mind me, that’s my cue to get as far away as possible.” He smirked, though the humour didn’t breach his stony eyes this time. “Good luck.” He muttered, patting you upper arm as he moved past you, disappearing out into the corridor beyond.
You frowned after him, confused how a person could be that bad you had to hide from them. You perched on the nearest bar stool and waited.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
“[Y/N]?”
“Brother!” Thor grabbed his brother’s arm as he lunged forward before the bright light of the rainbow bridge had completely vanished.
“She’s here isn’t she? Where is she?” Loki demanded almost desperately, eyes darting over the open landing pad at the top of the Avengers Tower.
“Hello to you too, reindeer games.” Tony greeted dryly and Loki turned to face him, his expression clouding with annoyance.
“Where is she?” Loki demanded again, a bite to his tone now.
“Brother, relax.” Thor soothed, squeezing Loki’s shoulder reassuringly, “She’s not here right now.”
“Not here?!” Loki snarled, turning on Thor, “You told me-“
“She is with Agent Romanoff.” Thor interrupted calmly, dropping his hand from Loki’s shoulder.
Loki’s eyes flickered with relief momentarily, “Well, where?”
“Out.” Thor shrugged.
“Why?!”
“For exactly this reason, brother.” Thor stated, gesturing at up and down his brother. Loki shook his head, scowling incredulously. “Loki, she doesn’t know who you are, you’ll scare her.” Thor explained.
“Hang on, back up –“ Tony began, stepping forward, confused.
“She’ll know me the minute she sees me.” Loki stated, brushing off Thor’s concerns.
“I wouldn’t be so sure brother.”
“Woah,” Tony interrupted, stepping forward again, holding a hand up to get them to stop, “care to fill in the rest of the class, kids?” Tony asked, waving his hand in a circle to include himself and the two that lingered behind him. Loki glared down at Stark, but the man didn’t seem to care. Thor glanced around the rest of the landing pad at the few other team members that had dared to greet him on his return with his brother. Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner still stood back watching his brother’s entrance with a mixture of hesitancy and bewilderment.
“My brother has a history with [Y/N].” Thor admitted, addressing the others, “However she has no memory of this history.” Thor glanced at his brother. Loki’s enthusiasm seemed to faltered and he now moved away from his brothers gaze, heading towards the edge of the landing pad, staring blindly at the scenery beyond.
“What do you mean she has no memory?” Tony frowned, also glancing towards Loki’s back.
“Something happened a long time ago. We don’t know what.” He confessed. “Neither I nor Loki were there.” Loki seemed to flinch at that. “When I returned she spoke to me as if nothing had changed…” Thor trailed off, glancing over at this brother’s now dejected-looking figure. “Except she knew nothing of my brother, nor anything he had ever done.”
“A sort of memory loss?” Rogers frowned.
“A very specific one.” Banner added. “Any ideas what caused it?”
Thor shook his head.
“Hang on, is that the only reason he’s here?” Stark frowned, jutting a finger over at Loki whose back visibility stiffened at the question.
Thor looked back to his brother, pity in his eyes. ”It is what convinced him.” He confessed with a nod, then turned his head back to the others, “But I truly mean for this to be a rehabilitation for him. I assure you he has changed.”
No one seemed convinced.
There was a moment’s pause before Loki turned. “Well, thank you all for your strong vote of confidence.” He sneered dryly at the team, “Now I’ve had my very warm welcome, might I be shown to my new room?”
“Oh course, brother.” Thor clapped him on the back and Loki scowled.
“Just don’t get too comfortable.” Tony muttered, turning back to the tower’s entrance.
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Creative Journal [July 18]
inspired by @kinetic-elaboration who made a post a bit ago about sharing updates throughout July about what we’re working on! It felt good to compile my thoughts into one place as I think about what I’m trying to accomplish!
Taking a creative hibernation has been one of the best things I could have done for myself! But it also means now that I’m wanting to get back into things, the itch is twice as intense as before! I think my plan is to still keep things either somewhat vague or at least without any update plans. Getting to work in my own little cocoon has been quite lovely, especially since I do plan on making most of my work this month try to be outlining. 
WRITING PROJECTS
As warm ups, I’ve taken to picking a couple of the prompts from the 2021 Crackling Fires and combining some and writing either summaries or outlines for my ideas for them. I’m thinking once I get all of them outlined, I can get to writing them as actual writing warm ups. I also have a horror/slasher oneshot that I’m attempting to wrangle (base idea = good, execution = struggling) that I’d desperately love to write in time for spooky season. Also a follow up to my Bellarke + CAOS AU would be really fun and I’ve gotten multiple people requesting one (since I mentioned it in the author’s notes). That one is the least likely but we’ll see! But since I’m getting married this fall and all of the stuff involved with that, we’ll see. But I would love to get some fun Halloween content pre-written for the season! 
I’ve fallen victim to my old Stranger Things addiction so some plot seeds have taken root with that as well. The zombie rewrite is always floating in my mind but I do think I have more plans for that now rather than just a simple rewrite. Flushing out plot holes, upping the stakes. Making it the truly complex story I think it deserves. I’ve also fallen for a side ship and am in the depths of planning something out for that one as well! But that’ll be a secret one until it’s further along I think. 
As for my other WIPs, I think I’m settling into a place that I can open them up again. I have a couple that I really don’t think I care about anymore, but I don’t want to write them off quite yet. I think I’ll first look at the ones that have a more defined direction and see what I feel most inspired to work on again! It’ll be nice to write off of ~vibes~ again though and not feel as much pressure. I’m hoping that’ll make it easier to finish them! I’ve also begun to lay the groundwork for a Bellarke AU I promised my partner I’d write and I’m SO excited for that to take shape!
DESIGN PROJECTS
There are definitely some creative projects that take precedent over everything––aka my two contract jobs right now as well as all of the designs for my wedding lol. I’m working on improving my scheduling of work and removing distractions so that I can work more productively during the day. I also need to finish updating my portfolio, which is woefully lacking.
In the more fun element of designing, I want to keep doing some character and episode graphics for Tumblr. I can’t believe my Eddie one is almost to 1k notes!! Those are great exercises for me and a fun way to play with fonts that I don’t have a place for in my day to day work. I also have an idea for making a series of badges/patches inspired by camping that I want to do. Plus my million other art ideas on my Notion board! 
As always, “intention” is my word that I’m focusing on. Planning and being intentional about my time, especially even when it’s not “working” on things, is so crucial and I’m excited to be shaking off the cobwebs and getting back into things!
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