#I have so many wips but this man simply took over

[ronnie999673]

[dustofthedailylife]

You were not supposed to hear that...yet

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Pairing: Alhaitham x (gn!) Reader

Summary: Alhaitham reveals a secret about the inner workings of his heart to his friends over a cup of wine and in between some banter. However, he did not expect it would go this wrong...

Tags: Fluff, crack, comfort, teasing, consumption of alcohol (by characters), the whole 4ggravate crew is here, friendly banter between friends, a small sprinkle of angst because reader is insecure (but it's unjustified)

A/N: Dust posting a new fic?! Not an April Fool's joke, despite the date! Finally felt inspired and well enough again to finish this fic that has been rotting in my WIPs forever. I hope you like it. And feel free to hit me up with asks and reblogs - it'd motivate me greatly after my long break 🥺

The usual friend group of Cyno, Kaveh, Tighnari, and him - Alhaitham, was sitting at the Tavern. A gathering like it happened almost every weekend at this point.

The wine bottle on the table had been emptied around two or three times already when Kaveh ordered a new one yet again. At this point, Alhaitham had actually lost count of how many glasses of wine he'd already had, too. But one thing was for certain, he could feel the alcohol in his system and the warm blood that was rushing to his cheeks. All things considered though, despite feeling a little tipsy from the intoxication, he was still able to think clearly.

"Let me guess I'm the one who will have to end up covering your bill again?" He took sarcastic a jab at Kaveh. 

The man in question just squinted his eyes and glared daggers at him before opening his mouth in an attempt to protest before it was quickly shot down by Tighnari's hand covering it.

Alhaitham leisurely leaned back in his chair smirking to himself, training his focus back onto the TCG cards in his hands and considering his next turn of action in the game he was playing against Cyno.

"What, am I just supposed to take it all the time and be quiet?!" Kaveh retorted, directed at Tighnari. The fox's ears were beginning to droop lower and lower as his expression became more and more deadpan.

"You all know as well as I do that if [Y/N] was here he wouldn't be acting like this. He would be on his best behavior and pay for the drinks without so much as complaining or being so cocky."

"By the way," Tighnari attempted to divert the attention away from Kaveh's ranting. "Where are they? Didn't you say they wanted to stop by the Tavern as well today, Alhaitham?"

Alhaitham played his round, throwing his card Cyno's way before looking up at Tighnari again.

"They mentioned it but I suppose something must've come up instead. I will ask tomorrow."

"Isn't it strange?" Kaveh addressed the others. "Whenever it involves [Y/N] he graciously offers himself up to talk to them and seek them out but whenever someone else is looking for him he is nowhere to be found."

"Maybe you just can't find me because I simply don't have anything to discuss with you." Alhaitham threw another jab at Kaveh with a smirk, which was promptly followed by a light punch against his bicep by the blonde architect.

"What? I constantly have to talk to you already when we're at ho-"

"SHHH! Don't say that out loud." Kaveh hissed, quickly covering Alhaitham's mouth in panic, since he didn’t want him to spell out that they were currently living together. “It's embarrassing enough that I currently have no other choice, no need to add to my misery.”

A witty quip was burning at the tip of Alhaitham's tongue after Kaveh's remark yet again, but he decided to swallow it. He didn't want to upset him too much, especially since he knew he'd had it rough lately. Even if it would've been said in jest, there was no need to add insult to injury. Instead, he simply resorted to taking another sip of his wine with a low chuckle and a glance in the blonde architect’s direction.

“Aaaaanyway…”, Tighnari cleared his throat, addressing Alhaitham once more. “What is it between [Y/N] and you anyway? You've become quite close haven't you?”

“That's an understatement.” Kaveh groaned, dropping his head on his folded arms on the table dramatically. “He can't stop talking about them. Day in and day out it’s [Y/N]-this, [Y/N]-that.”

“We started working on a project about six months ago. Things are progressing quite smoothly if I do say so myself. Certainly makes things easier if you're working with someone who is both hardworking and intelligent in every way. I’ve been lucky to have been assigned to the project with them.” Alhaitham answered Tighnari’s question rationally while ignoring Kaveh’s dramatic display.

“Here he goes again.” Kaveh huffed, directing his comment at Cyno and Tighnari. “Whenever he talks about them you hear nothing but praises.”

“If someone is doing a great job, is it not logical to give them the credit they deserve?” Alhaitham added matter of factly.

“No… I mean yes, but no. It's just not something I'd see you doing. It’s so out of character.” Kaveh huffed. “And before you say anything, yes, maybe I just don't know that side of you because I don't give you any reason to praise me. No need to add that, thank you.”

Kaveh poked his tongue out at Alhaitham before taking a big sip from his wine.

“Why, if you want to be praised you just need to say so, Kaveh. I think you're quite brilliant - your shortcomings aside.” He just had to add that last bit. Kaveh was just way too easy to tease. And what would this friend group be without the playful banter and jabs at each other?

Kaveh choked on the drink immediately and slammed his cup down onto the table with a loud clang. A fire burned behind his crimson eyes when he spoke next.

“This is exactly what I meant, thanks for proving my point!”

Kaveh looked at Cyno and Tighnari gesturing in the direction of Alhaitham with a move that said “Do you see what I mean now?”.

Tighnari just facepalmed and shook his head.

“And what is your point exactly?” Cyno inquired, playing a card from his hand.

“Did you not listen to what he said?” Kaveh gasped.

“Not really,” Cyno admitted honestly, his eyes trained back on the cards in his hands.

“It's the fact that he can praise others too, but never without also pointing out their faults in the same sentence. Did no one ever notice that? However, he never does that when it's [Y/N].” Kaveh explained.

“And?” Tighnari and Cyno replied in unison, looking puzzled as to where Kaveh wanted to go with this.

Kaveh put his head in his hand and groaned in frustration. “Sometimes you all make me feel like I am surrounded by idiots.”

Now everyone raised their eyebrows at him.

“You're all so clueless… anyway.” He sighed dramatically and accusingly pointed a finger at Alhaitham. “This guy. This admittedly handsome but blockheaded, know-it-all, stoic, annoying-”

“Get to the point.” Alhaitham chided, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine, fine." Kaveh spread his arms like he was holding a presentation and Alhaitham his canvas.

“This guy's right here, as alien as it may sound – has fallen in love.” 

“You're in love?!” Cyno exclaimed his eyes widening. “With who?!”

Tighnari rolled his eyes, knowing full well Cyno hadn't listed at all the past ten minutes because he had been so absorbed in his cards, and gently slapped the back of his head.

“[Y/N], of course!” The Forest Ranger exclaimed with a huff.

Cyno, now rubbing the back of his head just ushered a “Wait really?” while Kaveh and Tighnari just curiously began eyeing Alhaitham in the hope of seeing any type of confirmation on his face. However, it stayed as unreadable as ever.

He nonchalantly took another sip of wine from his cup while leisurely looking back and forth between the cards on the table and the ones in his hand before playing another turn as if this conversation just now hadn't happened.

“So!?” Kaveh asked, almost hysterically at this point. “Do you intend to enlighten us?”

Just how had he gotten into this situation now? Alhaitham suppressed a sigh before turning to Cyno: “Your turn. Two of your cards are down.”

“Archons!” Cyno cussed, immediately attempting to go back to study his cards but a fist slammed the table harshly, drawing all attention to it.

Tighnari flinched in shock and Cyno, too seemed to be pulled back to reality. Kaveh’s hand was trembling slightly, visibly agitated.

“Stop changing the subject, Alhaitham. The more you keep avoiding answering the question the more I think I am right in my assumptions.”

Alhaitham pinched the bridge of his nose beginning to truly feel a little stressed by Kaveh’s insistance. The man was truly too nosy for his good.

“Kaveh, just let it be if he doesn’t-” Tighnari began before being cut off by Alhaitham.

“And what if you are right? What then, Kaveh?”

Everyone at the table fell silent and everyone was staring at him with a mix of disbelief and shock.

He hadn't planned to reveal any of this yet, especially since he feared they would try to become his wingman. Which, admittedly, may be a nice gesture on paper but with them it could only end in disaster. Plus he would prefer to deal with his feelings alone first and think them through thoroughly, before talking about them with anyone. Besides, it should be you, if anyone, who should hear about them first - alas he was too deep into this now to weasel his way out.

“What?!” Kaveh’s mouth hung open in shock.

“So it is true then?” Cyno inquired, putting the card in his hand down on the table, now suddenly fully hooked on the tea that was being spilled.

“Hold on. Pause.” Kaveh sat upright, before quickly gazing over Alhaitham’s shoulder. “So you-”

“For Archon’s sake.” Alhaitham was beginning to get annoyed because he didn't know how much clearer he had to become for them to get it. “Yes - I’ve been in love with them. For a while now-”

“Alhaitham-” Kaveh tried to interject.

“No, don't interrupt me now, you pestered me about it for the past twenty minutes now you'll have to listen. I have never met anyone who is so hardworking, intelligent, and stunning in any way. Of course, I would be infatuated with a person like them. It would be hard not to fall for them.”

“Uhm Alhai–” Kaveh laughed awkwardly before being interrupted by Alhaitham’s ongoing monologue once more.

“At first I wasn't sure about it but I am now. I am thinking about them first thing in the morning and last thing when I go to sleep - unless you're hammering away on some project again that keeps me awake, Kaveh.”

Kaveh waved for him to shut up already but Alhaitham didn't let that bother him. If he wanted the full story with all the details - he'd get it. He hoped that would get this discussion out of the way once and for all.

“And guess what? They even remembered how I liked my coffee just after I told them once and gifted me a book that I had been trying to find for weeks. So yes, Kaveh. I love [Y/N]. There, does that suffice now, or?”

Kaveh let out a squeal as soon as Alhaitham had stopped speaking but upon further inspection of his expression, it hadn't been one of excitement but rather pure terror and awkwardness. 

“Alhaitham…” Cyno and Tighnari said in unison and he only then noticed as well how their gaze was trained on a spot behind him.

“What?” Alhaitham inquired, curling a brow up in confusion before all three men pointed their fingers at something behind him.

When he turned his head around to look at what they were trying to show him, he felt his heart drop to his stomach for the first time in ages.

To his utter shock, you were standing right behind him. Or rather, you were frozen in place, your hand still half lifted in greeting as if you had just been about to greet the lot of them. Your mouth was slightly open in shock still and your pupils were but the size of pinpricks and transfixed on Alhaitham.

And judging by your reaction you must've heard every last word he had said.

“I-I…” You started stammering, clearly confused about what you had just heard. “I uh-, I'll head back home.”

You abruptly turned around on your heel and marched straight out the Tavern door you had just come through as if someone was chasing you.

Alhaitham hadn't moved a muscle ever since he had spotted you standing behind him and he looked like he was frozen in place. Everyone at the table had fallen so silent, one would've been able to hear a needle drop.

Alhaitham's eyes were still fixed on the door you had left through. The little bell that chimed every time the Tavern door hit it on the way in or out was still dangling lightly from the impact. But the movement was dying down slowly but surely - just like Alhaitham, who felt like someone had dropped a boulder on his chest.

You were not supposed to hear that, yet.

“You uh…, Alhaitham you should probably follow them.” Tighnari was the first to speak again. He awkwardly scratched behind his ears. Cyno hummed in agreement while Kaveh just sat there with his mouth wide open.

Alhaitham exhaled in frustration, unable to properly place his emotions. But they were somewhere between unsettled, nervous, and discomforted.

When he got up it felt like someone had tied heavy iron blocks to his ankles that were weighing him down.

“Yeah, I guess I do,”  Alhaitham muttered before marching off.

When you stormed outside the Tavern the cool evening breeze gnawed at your skin and made goosebumps erupt all over. Although you weren't quite sure if it was the temperature or your emotional turmoil at play here.

There was no way Alhaitham had just said that and actually meant it. He wouldn't be the type of man to flat-out admit that he had feelings for anyone. Or would he? He had been talking to his closest friends after all.

You were questioning your sense of reality and thought you must've fabricated it all in your mind. Or maybe you misheard what he said and he was talking about something else entirely.

But no, he said your name, and the others looked panicked when you entered the tavern and approached the table.

As you rushed through the streets of Sumeru City the chilly wind kept whipping in your face. Not even you knew where you were going at this point. You simply went where your feet were carrying you.

But eventually, you realized you had run up the Akademiya and to the blue-green mosaic pavilion that glistened in the last rays of sunlight. The spot at which you and Alhaitham often spent your lunch break together. 

You sunk down on the bench exhaustedly and stared holes in the ground.

No way.

There was just no way.

Alhaitham. The man you had fallen for so hard that he had begun to occupy every waking thought you had. That man was supposed to have feelings for you and had just flat-out admitted it?

No, this simply had to be a dream. A bad joke. Or maybe even a bet between the group that they orchestrated to prank you.

You could feel your heart thumping in your head and it felt like your head was swimming. It was as if you had downed an entire bottle of wine by yourself, but you were as sober as one could be.

Yes, that had to be it. It was a bet between the boys over one too many cups of wine and they had all acted their parts out flawlessly.

You got up again walking to the railing, overlooking Sumeru city that shone majestically in the last remaining rays of sunshine that the day had to offer. Another gush of wind blew your way, making tears well up in your eyes. Although it may have also been your emotions who were to blame for that instead.

You inhaled deeply. Once. Twice. But nothing seemed to help calming the rapidly beating heart in your chest.

In your daze, you completely missed how someone had quietly come up to the pavilion as well.

Alhaitham leaned against the railing himself, looking over the city in silence, too. He was clearly ringing for words. Although you assumed the wrong reason for his struggle.

“Look,” you began, trying your hardest to suppress the tremble in your voice. “If you came here to apologize - please, spare me your words.”

He looked at you opening his mouth before closing it again right after with a silent nod. His cheeks were dusted in a light pink shade - you assumed it was caused by the alcohol he had downed at the tavern with the others.

“I hope that we can go back to normal tomorrow and just finish our project. I’d prefer if we kept our distance after that. I think it’s for the best” The words left your mouth at normal speed, but it felt like you had to force every single one out. They felt tenacious, like old chewing gum that you tried to pull out from in between your teeth.

“I understand.” He stated calmly before retraining his gaze back into the distance. 

You both kept standing next to each other in silence for a long while before you decided to confront him about it directly. You eventually decided it was for the best if you got things off your chest now so that you could get over him quickly. Ripping it off like a band-aid would hopefully give you the relief you so desperately craved right now.

“You know,” you began. “I don’t know who came up with the idea and I also don’t care, no need to tell me. But you guys should never do this to anyone again because you never know how much it might end up hurting someone else’s feelings.”

Alhaitham stood upright and turned to face you directly. He crossed his arms over his chest and slightly cocked his head like he always did when he was thinking about something you said.

After a momentary pause, he asked: “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you shouldn’t toy with someone’s feelings as a prank. It’s never actually funny for anyone but the people who orchestrate such a prank. No matter if the other person reciprocates the feelings or whether they believe the statement, they always end up being the one who is being ridiculed.” You explained as rationally as possible, which was a stark contrast to the tempest that was raging both inside of your heart and mind.

“Especially when the person hoped to hear those exact words for the longest time, too…” You added. It wasn't more than an utterance under your breath - so quietly it was barely audible. But Alhaitham heard nonetheless.

“But I meant everything I said.” He stated matter of factly, seemingly catching on to the fact that you must’ve assumed the wrong things about the whole situation.

“What?! Alhaitham, please, there is no need to add insult to injury. You had your fun now–”

“No.” He gently took your hands in his, exhaling heavily. “Archons, you weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

He rarely swore which made the impact of his words even stronger.

“I wanted to tell you face to face and was waiting for the right moment to do so. But, just know that every word you heard and everything I said back at the tavern was the truth. No bet or scheme made me say it. Not that anyone would be able to make me say these things in the first place.” He sighed once more, giving your hands an emphasizing squeeze. “I meant it.”

“You did?”

“Every word.”

You felt the blood rush to your face and immediately lowered your gaze in an attempt to hide your flusteredness.

“Had I known this would happen, I would’ve told you everything right from the start. I don’t like how this went now but–”, he moved his hands up to cup your face. His beautiful turquoise eyes trained on no one but you. 

“I’m absolutely certain I like you. You drive me crazy. And I love and hate how much you occupy every waking thought of mine because I can’t focus on anything when you’re around. And when you’re not, you’re still always on my mind. So please – be mine.”

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[fanaticsnail]

Snail!! Please, I have to many drawing wips already, you can't make me think of cowboy! Rosi right now!

(Unless?)

More Cowboy Rosinante? Don't mind if I indulge. Let's talk about how it'd work before we get into the little scenes.

Eyes

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 650+

He was halfway to death when he came to you.

The man had barely enough clothes to shroud him in, dripping and crusted over with blood belonging to who knows. As soon as you opened your front door, he slumped to his knees and gawked up at you with uncertain eyes that held such deep sorrow.

He claimed he had no idea who he was. All thoughts and notions as the man he chose to become was lost to him. His mind was a web of fog, clutching to each morsel of his mind, body and soul. There was nothing of him that remained: only language from his lips, and soft movement his body as he gazed up at you in the luminance of soft lamplight.

Your father tasked you to dress his wounds, and clean him up as best you could, while you waited for the medics and surgeons to attend him at your farm. Each swipe of flesh, each gentle caress, each smooth motion wiping the marred skin from the remains of his wounds slowly cleansed his body of a violent history lost to him. All you received in return was nothing but a soft look of wonder from the messy blonde receiving your care.

In that expression alone, you, and those who ran your family’s ranch, gave him a new name.

Eyes.

Those eyes never left you. Not for a single moment. Not while training with horses, learning the beasts, wrangling cattle, and showcasing stellar marksmanship. He only ever had eyes for you, and the rest of the workers gave him hell for it. With no other name to crown him with, the Eyes would have it.

When Eyes was crowned with his first hat, his heart swelled with pride. He had been with your family for so long, he felt as one of you. Each hazing he endured, brand he gifted, and championship he managed to win in riding and shooting, he only ever sought you out with that gaze that never left you.

Eyes was your protector. He stuck by you as chaperone to each foul date, never asking questions while only gazing at you from the rearview mirror of your father’s truck. Escorting you inside your family’s homestead by a gentle hand and a kind smile, Eyes ensured you were safe before tipping his hat to you and bidding you a silent farewell.

That's how you remained, Eyes watching on from afar while he graced you with that soft smile you had come to pine for. Washing his face in a troff first thing in the morning, placing a cigarette between his lips and gently enjoying a cup of dark coffee, he always seemed to find where you were with those twin hazel orbs.

There was a crack of red lightning in the warmth of his irises, something simmering beneath the surface. Something partially unhinged and hidden from all of you. While he pined and yearned for you in the silence of ten years, he never once stepped out to find the path leading him back to his memory. Only ever the gentleman, he simply never made a move on you to keep the peace between your family and yourself.

But one day, he finally plucked up the courage to do so.

Just as he was about to take that first step up towards the house, hat in his hands and clutched to his chest, no whisper on his lips other than the rehearsed speech he practiced in the silence, he was desperate for a single name to speak to you. He was so close to finally confessing to you, finally giving in to those feelings he tried to repress, there was not a single thing that would hold him back from it now.

Until it appeared at his leather-boot clad heels.

All it took was a yellow-tanned bounty with a face of a foreign man in a white spotted hat to have that red flash auburn in his eyes. Eyes would find his name, learn his family, and know all of the things he had ever done as both marine and pirate under the name of law and lawless.

Donquixote Rosinante: former marine, saboteur to the Donquixote Pirates, protector of Trafalgar Law, and proclaimed dead by those who witnessed it happen in the fall of soft snow, was holding a page with a face of a boy now grown to a man.

That same Trafalgar Law he wanted to protect had made a name living up to that middle initial that willed him to.

Romance would have to wait for this cowboy, now posed with a quest to seek out that history and reclaim it as himself again. Eyes would be yours eventually, but for now, he needed to be Donquixote Rosinante again.

[bring-backup-99]

First Time’s The Charm

Read on Ao3

PAIRING: Tech x Phee

SUMMARY: Some sweet smut about Tech and Phee’s first time together

WORDS COUNT: 2501

RATING + WARNINGS: 18+, very spicy, porn with feelings, PiV, fluff, kissing

NOTES: When I’m not working on my Batch reverse harem “Bad Choices” smutlet series on Ao3, I occasionally write other stuff. I have a long form WIP that will probably never be finished, so you all might as well have the smut from it.

And yes, this is virgin Tech (which is basically the opposite of him in Bad Choices), though I will fight people if they suggest that he couldn’t still be good at sex from the start. The man loves research. He knows what and where a clitoris is. I will die on this hill.

The first night Tech had stayed with Phee, it had simply been a matter of them talking too late and falling asleep on her couch. When they’d woken up in the soft morning light, both had felt sheepish. She’d laughed it off. 

“You’ll fall asleep anywhere, Brown Eyes.” He didn’t deny it.

A few days later, they were in her little workshop, telling each other stories, true stories, while she cataloged and he tinkered. As he walked her home, their hands brushed together until finally their fingers slowly intertwined. He didn’t come in, but they stood in the moonlight outside her door holding hands and talked about everything but what was happening between them.

When they had first met, so many rotations ago, she had liked him immediately, primarily because he was handsome, and then later because he was kind, brilliant, intense, and strong. He was so different from the other men she knew. Bringing them all to Pabu was impulsive, but she’d never regret doing it, giving them a safe space where they were appreciated for their kindness and desire to help, where they flourished, where Omega could have a home.

He began walking her home every night, and they would stand outside holding hands, until finally, one night, she leaned into him and he put his arm around her.

“This is nice, Tech,” she’d said, using his real name to show how serious she was. He’d looked down at her.

“Yes. I would use that descriptor as well.”

Impulsively, she’d risen onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. For a moment, she was afraid she’d gone too far. His body had stiffened abruptly, but just as quickly it relaxed. The kiss was sweet and soft, close-mouthed. He’d pulled away slightly.

“I have never kissed anyone before.”

The words overwhelmed Phee. She had thought it was possible his life hadn’t allowed such things, and she wanted to be careful. 

“Is this okay? We don’t have to.” Tech stopped her by lifting her chin so they could kiss again. She pulled him in, and they stayed on her couch while she taught him something new. He was a fast learner.

He stayed with her almost every night, slowly divesting himself of the various layers that he wore as the evenings passed. First, his utility belt and pouches. The night he took off his gloves, and she had felt his bare hands on her own, against her face and neck, had made her giddy. She spent the next day mooning over him like she was a schoolgirl. She chided herself for it; she was too old and wise for this nonsense, but Phee couldn’t stop.

And it was the night he took off his goggles because their kissing had knocked them askew for the umpteenth time that she knew she’d truly fallen for him. Someone’s eyes shouldn’t have that power over her, yet she’d never met anyone so absolutely honest that it reflected perfectly in their gaze. Phee’d been with other people, of course, but she’d never let them into her life the way she let Tech in. 

Because she trusted him, and she knew this gesture from him was because he trusted her too.

*

“Can this come off tonight?” she whispered, running her hands over the chest of his blacks. Their embrace tonight had been particularly passionate and she wanted him as close to her as possible.

“Yes, I would find that acceptable.” 

"Let me know if you feel uncomfortable, Brown Eyes." 

"Just...proceed slowly." 

Phee was trying to do just that. She’d imagined the first time they had sex, that she’d take him to a field of flowers or a beach at sunset…or the back of a library. But now she knew none of those was going to happen.

She circled him, her hand never breaking contact as she felt the contours of his body under the fabric. Finally, she faced him and slowly pulled up the shirt. She ran the back of her hand against his skin, noted that he was hardly breathing. She waited for him to relax, then pulled the shirt off, leaving his torso fully bare. She could feel his tension as he lay back on the bed, his eyes slightly glazed.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she lay beside him.

“Yes,” but the word was almost inaudible.

Tentatively, she stroked his chest, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. She didn’t know what she expected, but his slim, muscular frame fulfilled any fantasy she had had. Her fingers fluttered over a scar on his shoulder. 

"Droid," he said. Another scar on his side. "Knife wound. Not from Hunter," he smiled. He turned slightly and showed her one on his hip. "Shrapnel, only partially because of Wrecker." She leaned over, kissing each of them. Hungry for him, she kissed a trail from his hip to his chest. Impulsively, she licked his nipple, and he cried out in shock. Phee drew back quickly. 

“I'm sorry." 

"No, no. That felt...intense. I was not expecting it.” He drew her to him, kissed her, then whispered, "Do it again." 

Hungrily, her lips moved along his neck, drinking in every reaction he had to her touch, then down to his other nipple. Tentatively, she licked it, feeling the hitch in his breathing, then gently raked it with her teeth. He moaned. She did the same on the other side, reveling in his response to her. 

His hands began to roam around her body, finding their way under her shirt. On fire, she pulled it off and let him explore her at his own pace. She was desperate to feel his skin against her own, but she did not want to overwhelm him. As she had explored him, his hands did the same to her; caressing the small of her back, the nape of her neck, the curve of her breasts. She gasped at his touch, inflamed, desperate for more. He pulled her closer, and she pressed her body against his, chest to chest. He rolled on top of her, lips locked together, one of his legs between her own. All her control was gone. 

She let her hand slide down to the growing bulge in his pants. 

"I want to touch you," she said, giving him time to stop her, but he was as inflamed as she was. He groaned and arched his back as her hand cupped him. His responses to her were unbelievable, feeding the flames of her desire.

“Please, take this off.” She fumbled at his pants. “Please, if you are ready.”

He stood and pulled them off, as she slipped out of the rest of her clothes. Standing next to him, looking into his eyes, she took his erection in her hand. It took every ounce of his self control not to climax right then, the sensations were so overwhelming. She pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him. She leaned forward to kiss him and look into his beautiful eyes. She took his hand, and together they guided his length into her as she lowered herself onto him. 

He cried out as he entered her. She moved slowly, never breaking eye contact, until he was fully inside her. 

“Tech, if you become uncomfortable or need us to stop—”

“I can manage,” he said, his jaw clenched, his eyes focused on her, fingers intertwined. She waited a few moments, letting their bodies acclimate to the new sensations, then together they slowly began moving, finding a rhythm that suited them both. 

He held her hips and pushed his pelvis up to be as deep inside her as he could. Her gasps and cries excited him in a way he had never felt, his body responding on instinct as she rocked against him more insistently. 

He could see her eyes losing focus, even as he could sense the same in himself, as he felt the build up in his body, a pressure he had never experienced and did not fully understand. This was so different from the furtive, utilitarian fumblings he managed in the ‘fresher when the need arose.    

In a move that took her breath away, he pressed himself up, put his arm around her waist, and rotated both of them so he was on top of her. The absolutely feral cry she gave him as her limbs wrapped around his body nearly sent him over the edge. He held her close, trying to slow down, to make this last longer, this sweet, intense, incredible feeling. 

She refused to let it happen. She rocked her pelvis against him, desperate for him to lose control, to match her passion. He gasped. 

"I need to...Phee, if you do not stop…I am too close," he groaned. 

"We'll do this again," she whispered. "I want you. I want you inside me. I want to feel you." She felt incoherent, but she also felt him let go. He lifted one of her legs, hooking it over his arm, giving him an angle to somehow be deeper inside her. His body took over, his thrusts stronger, wilder. Her hands pressed on his lower back, encouraging him. 

Her moans of, "Yes, please, yes. Tech. Yes," finally put him over the edge. The absolute bliss of the orgasm was almost too much for him. He buried his head in her neck, drowning himself in her essence, as it pulsed over his body. He lay still on top of her for what he thought was an eternity as the sensation slowly drifted away, leaving him tingling all over like exposed nerves. 

Cautiously, she stroked her hand down his back. He shuddered a bit but didn't say anything, then slowly slid out of her as he rolled next to her. 

"That was amazing," she whispered.

“I…quite agree.” He lifted his head and looked at her, "But you did not..." His voice trailed off. 

She smiled, kissed him, "That's not always the most important part of sex. The...intimacy...this closeness I feel with you, right now. This is better. But also, that was still incredible. You're a natural."

"I did do some research before this encounter…Though it did not prepare me for the intensity of the physical stimulation." She laughed.

"Why is that funny? As I do not have any experience in this area, I wanted to be prepared."

"The idea of you doing research about this on your datapad is very funny, but I'm not going to complain about the results." She rolled out of bed to clean up. 

"It will take a little time before I can physically do this again, but.." For a moment he seemed almost shy, "...would you want to when I am ready?"

She got back into the bed, snuggling next to him. 

"Yes," she said huskily.

“You were correct,” he said, pulling her close against him, “This was... special. More than just a physical act.” He felt foolish for ever having suggested otherwise in one of their long conversations. His voice drifted off, and she thought he might fall asleep, but instead they lay in wakeful silence, intertwined. 

“What is going on in there?" she asked.  

In reply, his hands again began roaming over her body. Lightly, his fingertips raised goosebumps on her arms and down her back. She shivered but felt herself opening again for him. His fingers caressed her breasts, tracing a path around them until he moved and his mouth found her hard nipples. He gently stimulated one, then the other, with his tongue. 

Now that his mind had cleared, he was studying her carefully. Every action and response was filed away. His hand stroked down her side, then to her already parted legs. He kissed her as his fingers explored between her legs, and he drank up her moans. He slid a wet finger up until he found her clit and just barely made contact with it, feeling her body tighten at the touch. He rubbed against it and was rewarded with a deep gasp. He slid two fingers inside of her, leaving his thumb to work against her sensitive nub. Her reaction was instant. Her thighs closed around his hand, and she groaned as his long fingers reached deeper into her.

"Tech," she whispered. "I need you...I need you inside me." 

"Yes, but this type of stimulation will help you to orgasm. I want to ensure that first."

She shook her head, "Oh it feels so good, but I...I don't finish like that. I need..." In her state, words were hard to come by, "...the internal stimulation." 

It took only a moment for him to process this, and then, "It does seem as if I am ready to fulfill this need." Her hand had been stroking him to hardness, but he was so focused on her he had barely noticed.

He pressed into her, slowly, each stroke entering her only a little more than the last, until one had a very pronounced reaction. Then he came up slightly on his knees, lifting her legs with him, sure that this angle would allow him better access to this most important spot. He began with short thrusts and was rewarded by her immediate cries. 

"Yes, oh, Tech, yes, right there," though her physical reaction would have been enough for him to know he had gotten it right. Her hands had grabbed onto the covers, clawing at the sheets. He timed himself to match the crescendo of her moans and whimpers, varying his strokes, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow, then returning to stimulate this more sensitive area, watching the build up of tension in her body, noting how her arms moved in spasms, her eyes closed tight, her mouth whispering incoherently. 

Suddenly her fingers were digging into his forearm, her cries a higher pitched staccato than what had come before, and he watched the orgasm overtake her body. She writhed under him, his thrusts against her sensitive inner wall bringing wave after wave of pleasure. As her reaction finally subsided, he lay over the top of her, kissing her deeply, drinking in everything about her, feeling almost more satisfied now than when he had had his own orgasm. He rocked into her gently, feeling the length of himself enclosed in her, enjoying this unimagined intimacy and reveling in the whole of her. 

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him as close as she could, breathing him into her. He pressed his forehead to hers as he let the second orgasm flow through his body, kissing her, needing her, wanting her.

“Good job, Brown Eyes,” she smiled. “Hard to believe that was your first time.” She liked seeing that satisfied glint in his eyes that came from praise.

“Yes, well, there is always room for improvement, especially since there seem to be an infinite variety of positions, techniques, and implements that can be used to enhance—”

She silenced him with her lips. “Slow down. Let’s just enjoy tonight.” 

And they did.

* *

I also write a smutty Bad Batch reverse harem series that can be found here.

Warning: It gets kinky.

[ivonhart]

the moon | steven grant x fem werewolf!reader

+ marc spector & jake lockley

— chapter six

| next (WIP)

| previous

masterlist

cross posted on ao3

gif credit: @paper-n-ashes

summary: You've always hated the moon. Hated the way it made your body bend and break into a new form every month. Hated the way it tied you to one of the many gods of it. But you couldn't hate what the moon connected you to...who it connected you to.

a/n: !! chapter warnings !! PTSD, unintentional s*lf-harm / It is NOT gonna get better for her XD!!!!

You woke the next morning to Layla scurrying around the room you slept in. You weren’t surprised to see the woman here. You knew she would’ve been hot on your tail the moment you left London. “Layla?”

You noted how hoarse your throat felt as you slowly sat up with a groan. The woman stopped in her tracks and quickly made her way over to you with a soft call of your name. “How are you feeling? I started to get nervous about whether you were going to wake up or not.” Your eyebrows were furrowed as you shook the drowsiness away.

Memories of what happened the previous day came flooding back and you looked down at your bandaged hand. It was clear it had been cleaned and rewrapped but there was still confusion floating within your mind. “What do you mean you were nervous? I just slept through the night.” Layla sat at the end of the bed with a look of pity. “You’ve been asleep for almost two days.”

A few beats of silence followed before you shot to your feet…almost pushing Layla off the bed in the process. “TWO DAYS?!” And as quickly as you got up…you fell down. All the blood rushing to your head, causing black dots to encase your vision. If it weren’t for Layla catching you, you would’ve fallen to the floor.

The woman hissed out your name with worry as she slowly sat you back on the bed. “The Scarab? Harrow? Marc?” His name left a bitter taste in your mouth as you dropped your head into your hands. You remembered what you said…what you did. Layla rubbed your arm silently. “I’m guessing Marc told you what happened?” You asked without lifting your head.

A small hum of confirmation left the woman’s mouth before she spoke. “He was lucky we were in the middle of a market, otherwise I would’ve punched him.” You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips before you raised your head. “I can’t believe I snapped like that. J-Just Marc simply saying ‘sorry’ and thinking that would fix everything sent me over the edge. And Steven.”

A wave of shame washed over you as you sighed. “I can’t even imagine what he must think about me now.” You turned to Layla with tear-filled eyes. “He probably thinks I’m an animal.” Layla slightly shook her head and allowed yours to fall against her shoulder as she began to speak.

“I can tell you one thing, Marc deserved everything you gave to him. What he said was disgusting and shameful. We know that man is not easy and I’m surprised it took you so long to finally snap at him…but I am surprised he said sorry. I mean…Marc never took accountability for his actions like that.” As Layla continued to speak, you had moved your hands to wrap around her arm. “But he did it with you.” You felt her shake her head.

“I am not saying that what Marc did was okay, but it is clear that he does regret it. He regrets it because he cares about you.” A small grumble passed your lips as you snuggled closer to Layla. “What has he been doing while I was asleep?” You questioned. “Mostly running around trying to find leads. He just left this morning chasing after another. He’ll probably be back later.”

A few seconds of silence followed before you whispered. “Also…I may have confessed to him.” Another pregnant pause filled the air as Layla took your words in. “WHAT!?” Now, it was Layla’s turn to almost knock you over as she shot to her feet. There was always an unspoken thing between the two of you about how you felt.

She never got confirmation about your feelings towards the man, but she always knew something was there. And she knew it went both ways even if you didn’t. Now, that once unspoken thing was gone as you spent the rest of the morning talking to her about everything.

-

“KHONSHU MAKE IT STOP!” Your pleas meant nothing to the god as he gazed up towards the moon. The full moon. “You know this is your punishment for what you did all those years ago.” He spat the words out with hatred. “You are nothing but a disgusting dog.”

Then he vanished, leaving you pushed up against a wall as you buried your head into your knees. You could hear them…calling you…cursing you. “–YOU MONSTER–HOW COULD YOU DO THIS–YOU KILLED US–IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT–”

You tried to scream back at them, but each time they grew louder and louder until you eventually found a spot curled against the wall. Knees to your chest whilst your hands covered your ears in a futile attempt to drown them out. It didn’t work.

“–YOU WOULD BE BETTER OFF DEAD–BEAST–MONSTER–MURDER–” Wails tumbled from your mouth as you rocked back and forth. Mouth wide, spewing apologies that would never be heard…eyes snapped shut but still seeing what Khonshu forced you to see.

You slid along the wall until your head pushed into the ground. Now, fully on your knees you began to smash your forehead against the floor. “stop…please stop…” was all that left your mouth with each hit. That’s when Marc finally made it back.

The moment he stepped out from within the pyramid and saw the full moon he was quick to make his way back to the hotel. Unfortunately, he was too late. By the time he got there you had already busted your head open, causing a small puddle of blood to pool against the floor. Your cries came out low and cracked as your throat grew weaker and weaker.

“stop…please stop…” A lump lodged itself within his throat as he made his way over to you. He wasn’t going to abandon you…not again. Slowly, Marc bent down and said your name. His hand ever so lightly brushed against your shoulder as he spoke.

With one final smack you went still and the room went silent once more. “A-Are they here?” Your words dripped from your mouth in the smallest tone Marc has ever heard. He muttered your name once more. “No…no one is here. You’re okay.” Steven watched from inside and his heart never felt so heavy. You carried so much. Suffered so much.

Steven could feel the guilt growing in Marc’s chest but he didn’t know it was because Marc blamed himself for being so late. If he got here quicker the night would’ve been easier. You wouldn’t have slipped so far to the point you believed what Khonshu made you see was real.

He watched as you slowly lifted your head to look at him…and when you did a fresh wave of tears fell from your eyes. Tears of relief. In a blink of an eye you had launched yourself into the man’s arms with sobs. “You came back!” You wailed. Despite the blood, tears and snot that began covering his shirt he held you as if you would disappear with the wind. “I got you. I got you.” And he did.

With effortless movements, the man pulled you into his arms and led you to the bathroom where he cleaned your head. Then he moved to the bed where he pulled the covers over your heads like a child would in an attempt to hide from a monster. All while you clung to him. “Don’t leave me, Marc.”

The warmth from your breath crashed against his skin and created goosebumps. Your head was tucked into his neck as you curled yourself into his body. Hands clasping handfuls of his shirt. His chest burned as he placed a feather-like kiss upon your head. “I’ll never leave you again.” Was the last words you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

The warmth he offered melted away the cold that seeped through your bones with each passing second. As you lay tangled within his arms, Marc heard Steven softly speak. “You love her…don’t you?”

-

You woke up during the early hours of the morning. The sun barley began peaking over the horizon, slowly changing the dark sky into one filled with hues of yellow and orange. With lazy blinks your vision steadied as you sat up, careful of the arm that fell across your stomach.

The day after a full moon always left you in a strange state. A state in which you almost weren’t in your body. Like bits of your being floated around…desperate to return to you. The pain along your head didn’t help with the feeling either. The only thing grounding you was him.

You looked over your shoulder to look at Marc…and Steven. Quickly, you shut your eyes to combat the sting of tears. You were embarrassed…ashamed at what Steven saw. Marc was used to the full moons. He helped you through them so many times…but not Steven. Because of your internal struggle you didn’t notice the bed sheets move until you heard his voice call out your name.

You kept your back towards Marc as he sat up, the warmth provided by his arm disappearing as he moved it away. “H-How are you feeling?” His tone was lighter than a feather, almost as if he was afraid to spook you with anything louder. Your mouth opened to say something but the only thing that came out was a soft sob.

Marc sat straighter and hesitantly brushed his hand across your forearm. Then he said your name again, causing you to slowly look at him. The moment your eyes locked he watched tears pool over your puffy eyes. “I’m sorry, Marc.” His eyes saddened as he shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.” That’s when his gaze dropped. “I should’ve been there sooner. If I had, it might've not gotten so bad.”

That’s when he started telling you about the meeting with the gods. “I know you’re upset with me right now, but you have to know that I would never leave you alone during a full moon.” And you believed him. You believed him, because since your first full moon together he never left you alone. Marc watched as you wiped your tears away and slightly moved so you could face him better before replying. “I can never stay upset with you, Marc.”

The man took note of the new look that swirled in your eyes. You inhaled deeply before you gently cupped the man’s cheeks. Your eyes never leaving his as your thumbs lightly stroked his five o’clock shadow. “I could never stay upset with you because…” A soft gasp left your mouth when you felt his large hand graze your thigh as he leaned closer.

His scent made your head spin as your mouth ran dry, making it almost impossible to say what your heart burned to say. “I know.” Marc’s words kissed your lips with how close he had gotten. Both his and your breathing grew heavy with each passing second. Then, in the blink of an eye, the tension snapped and your lips crashed into one another.

The kiss was different from the one you shared with Steven to save him from a panic attack. While that kiss was gentle, this one was rough and hungry. Teeth clashed together while hands wandered. Your arms wrapped around his neck while his hands gripped your thigh and cupped your chin.

Your bodies were so close it was as if you would mold together. Despite the words going unspoken, both you and him knew just how much you meant to one another in that moment.

-

a/n: Sometimes I find it hard to write romance because I've never really felt it before so forgive me if it's kinda bad. Also finished writing and posted this around one in the morning sO.

taglist: @n1ght5h4d3-24 / @sunipostsstuff / @blackholegladiator / @ajeff855 / @daughterofthequeen / @faefanatic / @dropdeadbec / @sgt-morgan / @milk-bulb / @dev-angeline / @griffinkid2187 / @mxltifxnd0m / @badbishsblog / @local-mr-frog / @khaleesihavilliard / @rmoonstoner / @thewinterv / @oscarissac2099 / @peachyrue-777 / @queerponcho / @aristokatastrophy / @phoenixgurl030

[drchenquill]

Last Line/Excerpt Share/Proud of Tag~

I'm fusing tag games, baby~

Thank you @the-inkwell-variable and @frostedlemonwriter for the tag!

I'm currently working on a short story because my brain can't seem to focus on any of my WIPs, so here the last line(ish), an excerpt and a snippet I'm proud of all in one snippet from the short story! Enjoy~

~~~~

I stepped in front of the wooden door and took a deep breath. With a hairpin that I carried in a small bag, I tied my brown curls into a bun and stepped inside. The bedroom was spacious, which in my opinion was unnecessary for just one person. The large four-poster bed took up far too much space. The wardrobe took up an entire wall. What did he have a wardrobe for anyway? His clothes were all on the floor. Two nightstands for one man? A waste of money and space. I stepped over to the bed and ripped open the curtains. There he lay. The disappointment of the whole kingdom, or rather, the disappointment of his father. His silky blanket had been pulled off him in his sleep, exposing his muscular back. The prince liked to sleep naked, so the blanket, which was only millimeters above his hips, was the only protection I had. His dark skin shone in the shy sunshine. His right arm hung off the bed, near his clothes, which he had simply torn off yesterday. His jet-black hair was braided into many long braids, spread out on the soft pillows. A few golden rings had been woven into it, a little royal tradition. With each new year of life, a new ring was added. Now there were twenty golden rings, but they were nothing compared to his father's eighty-nine rings. Don't look at me like that, I told you that the royal couple had the prince in their senior years. Anyway. I went to the window and pulled open the curtains so that the beautiful sun could shine in. “Good morning, Your Highness! Time to get up.” Like every day, my words were followed by royal grunts and groans as the prince's sleepy eyes finally opened. “Morning already?” he grumbled. “I don't want to scare you, but… It happens every day. Every day starts with a morning.” I replied with a pointed smile. His apple green eyes, the only thing he had inherited from the queen, looked into my dark ones. “I see you still haven't choked on your tongue.” I gave a short laugh and turned to the window, opening it to let in some fresh air. The prince had managed to roll over on his back, with a groan, of course.

~~~~

Tagging with no pressure (you can choose whatever tag game from the three I fused, or all three, up to you~) @paeliae-occasionally , @finickyfelix , @theink-stainedfolk , @thecomfywriter , @the-letterbox-archives

@satohqbanana , @gabeorelse and open tag~

[anima-nostrae]

Ups, I forgot about my WIP

A curse as old as time, isn't it? A fanfic, an essay, a story, a piece of art...

The beautiful thing is that there is no deadline for passion projects. They can lay dormant for a day, a month, or a decade, but they come to life just as fervently as loyal old dogs that greet their owners when they come back from a boring but life-giving job.

That is to say, I am proud to announce Days of Reckoning have been picked up again, if there is anyone here that cares for them. I would hazard a guess that Chapter 3 will be live by the end of the month. In the meanwhile, here's a sneak peak (this is an unedited version, therefore might differ slightly from the "published version"):

If the temperature inside the cottage could be classified as breezy the previous evening, then the morning was assuredly cutting. The second Bloom opened her eyes, with one being covered by a duvet she had to throw over her face sometime in the night, she wanted to curl up even tighter into herself, suddenly missing her grandmother’s favourite hobby, knitting, and particularly discovering the art of weaving herself into a tight woollen ball. The very next thought was that she had to be smelling burnt toast, since that particular charring process is, at least to the nose, unmistakeable. The third thought was that she was in the goddamn cottage, and not alone but with…

With a groan that was just a tiny bit exaggerated she rolled over onto her back and sat up straight, still wearing the protective cocoon all around her trembling body. Her eyes were lacking their usual sharpness, hence why Bloom couldn’t be convinced that she saw Valtor cooking in front of her. 

He didn’t mind her much, focused tightly on his fried eggs and probably very much less than fresh toasts with butter, all of which the stars themselves only knew where he got from.

“Erghm,” she cleared her throat. He turned around like a startled fawn, a reflex probably polished by hundreds of battles and assassination attempts. All he found was a half-naked woman, freezing on the bed they made love in the night before. The same woman he fought for many months, the same woman he’s wanted for more than that.

“Morning,” he said, in the most curated monotone.

“I didn’t know you…” she started, but hesitated, “cook.” Nevermind the first thing that came to her mind was eat.

He returned her a slight smile. “I don’t like to, usually. I simply refuse to be dependent on someone because of my lack of skill.”

Bloom took a moment to appraise him - having her enemy before her the morning after they had each other in turn was not something that would happen any other day. His hair wasn’t a complete mess like she would expect, but it wasn’t the shiny wave it was normally. He was shirtless - with his jacket on, but shirtless nonetheless. Bent over the stove like a—

He was shirtless because she was still wearing his shirt.

Something in her brain that hadn't acknowledged Bloom was already awake decided it was a fair thing to return him his property - it was his shirt, his silk against her skin - so her palms made their way to the collar as she was making rounds with her neck to warm up the stiff muscles. The silk was already past her elbows when the cold hit her directly and Bloom understood she was very much awake. Just like him.

As she was working her way up she realised how pitiful she must’ve looked. Cold, so probably red - nevermind blushed - with morning hair, actively performing a striptease before Valtor, who very mindfully and pointedly was admiring the view outside, but his sly smirk betrayed how much of the show he’s actually witnessed. 

“I thought you’d sneak a peek,” Bloom tried to seem unaffected, but more importantly - not embarrassed - which granted her a rare, and before the previous night unknown, pearly laugh. The kind that makes you show all your teeth and shudder your shoulders.

“Oh, I wouldn’t. Bloom, I am a powerful wizard, and a man, but before that - a gentleman. And,” Somehow, his eyes gained an intensity otherwise improper between a pair of lovers during their first shared morning, “There is nothing you can show me now that I haven’t committed to memory already.”

Bloom broke the stare first, trying to concentrate on the fire instead of this man. He was right, he already got everything.

“That is to say,” he continued, clearly sensing her unease, “Don’t think that I would ever dare to forget even a centimetre of you. A second of you. Now, please dress yourself and come to the fire. The eggs are getting cold, and so I think are you.”

Now that was a convincing argument, Bloom thought, as his previous train of thought remained uncontinued by both of them, seemingly in agreement. But those goose feather bedding seemed much cosier than the proximity of the fire.

“Can’t I have breakfast in bed?”“If you want to sleep in stains for how long we’re staying here, yes. Otherwise - come here.”

Some sweet little fluff huh? Do we like it? There's not much of it coming up, so savour it while it lasts.

[frustratedasatruar]

September 25th

(In response to my participation in this that week's WiP Wednesday) (I also participated on July 10th and July 31st) (Sorry this one's late, life happened. Also, I was having trouble writing 24 consecutive sentences for Black Lotus, and I was too neurotic to convince myself to just post 24 sentences in two non-consecutive chunks.)

I have received 17 total comments requesting one of my five WiPs. The Distribution is:

Bionicle 40K, WiP.odt

None. 🙁

The Black Lotus (Avatar LoK fanfic).odt

@kalira, @asha10100101010, @eriquin, @violet-prism-creatively, @whimsicalmeerkat, @kallisto-k, @enigma-the-mysterious, @post-and-out, (8)

Fug that Squishy Space-Babe! (Alien Isolation).odt

@aisalynn, @adhdavinci, (2)

O Lei, O Lai, 'Alor (Star Wars Time Travel WIP).odt

@wizisbored, @somefishycat, @zyrafowe-sny, @lizhly, (4)

Quirk; Witchcraft (Teen Titans+MHA) WIP.odt

@auburnlaughter, @stonemaskedtaliesin, @mystarduststories, (3)

The Black Lotus (Avatar LoK fanfic).odt

It was embarrassing, but Korra was still a little hazy on exactly what was going on. The Fire Nation was bad again, or maybe still. Korra knew that for certain after what she’d seen with her own eyes. What she still saw when she went to sleep. But why? Was Fire Lord Izumi directing this? How far did it go? Too many questions, and Ming-Hua had been locked up for long enough that she didn’t know much current information. But all the same, Ming-Hua was very sure that the Earth Kingdom was in on it. Korra was inclined to agree on the Earth Kingdom’s apparent hostility after having been traveling through the Earth Kingdom for the last few weeks and seeing the widespread misery of the Kingdom’s citizens, but that left only more questions. After all, Korra knew that in the Hundred Years War the reason for the Fire Nation’s crimes was their desire to conquer the world, most especially the Earth Kingdom. So why were they working together now? Or was the Earth Kingdom independently hostile, and not actually coordinating with the Fire Nation? She remembered from her lessons that the Dai Li had been Avatar Aang’s enemies during the War, and Korra was pretty sure that was even before they betrayed the Earth Kingdom to the Fire Nation. Is that it? Did the Dai Li control the Earth Kingdom? Korra glanced to the lakeshore, where Ming-Hua was pouring over the newspapers they’d acquired today. She was a little weary of leaving that job entirely to Ming-Hua. She didn’t think the elder waterbender would lie, or do a bad job on purpose, but she hadn’t known Ming-Hua long enough to guess if she would do a bad job by accident. Ming-Hua wasn’t so condescending as a lot of adults she’d met, but there was still a lot Korra didn’t know about her. For all that she hadn’t actually made much progress finding herself an Earthbending teacher since running away, Korra was actually feeling good about her progress. In theory, there was Ming-Hua’s friend Gazan, perportedly an excellent Earthbender and even a master of Lavabending. But, much as Korra would jump at the chance to learn Lavabending, she was also realistic enough to suspect that Gazan was not alive. Not that she wanted to voice this to Ming-Hua, of course, who needed all the comfort she could get.

Fug that Squishy Space-Babe! (Alien Isolation).odt

The discarded skin was long cold by the time she got to it. Yuck. Fortunately, she wasn’t here for the skin itself. Instead, she wanted the tricks and toys her Vex had affixed to itself before its molt. Seeing them now, simply sitting there inert waiting for the Vex to use them, was somewhat surreal. This thing here, Quiet Cleaner knew, was one of those cacophonous distractions. Four sticks which she knew could catch alight and burn a piercing red, though she didn’t know how.

O Lei, O Lai, 'Alor (Star Wars Time Travel WIP).odt

Asajj took a deep breath, and settled into her best saber-stance. The terrifying man watched her judgmentally, “Your Master was a practitioner of Form Two.” Asajj wasn’t sure if that was a question. “He called it Makashi, Master Maul,” she offered tentatively, hoping she wasn’t speaking out of turn. “They are the same, Apprentice,” Master Maul corrected as he circled her, “I take it you have not been taught the Forms.” “I-, he also taught me a style called Niman, Master?” “Niman, or Form Six, is for amateurs. We shall test your skill in Makashi.” In less than the space of a blink, Master Maul’s saber ignited and came down on her in a heavy diagonal chop. Asajj only narrowly blocked in time, before swiftly backpedaling. For just an instant she glanced behind herself to check her footing, and immediately had to frantically duck to avoid being decapitated. “Good, Apprentice; you recognize that you do not have the strength to fight me directly, and wisely avoid doing so.” That’s nice, please stop trying to kill me!

Quirk; Witchcraft (Teen Titans+MHA) WIP.odt

“Hold still,” Kaneko-san ordered, her sharp, violet eyes permitting no refusal. “I’m fine, Kaneko-san! I just need to stop by Recovery Girl, and-” she wasn’t listening to Izuku, firmly maneuvering him into a nearby chair as her other hand was enveloped by her Quirk, and Izuku was distracted, “Oh, wow! Your Quirk gives off the impression of glowing, but it seems to actually make things darker? I can still make out your hand through it, but its as if all of the color and saturation has been totally removed! How would it look in a photogr- Ah! Ahh, ohhhhhh…” Izuku felt his mind suddenly blank itself as he felt his bones clicking themselves back together, and the crashing euphoria of disappearing pain scoured his brain. Kaneko-san tsked quietly, “What have you been doing to yourself? You muscles feel like they’ve gone through a meat processor.”

[ekwolfwriter-blog]

WIP Wednesday

Hello, posting in for another WIP Wednesday. And this time, a little behind the curtain for an sneak peak of meeting a spirit that I have show cased before but have not had a chance for their time to shine.

Plus this is for a bigger rewrite for sure, but here we go

Katara took another breath as she realized that the voice changed and sounded sweeter, calmer and even familiar even if she could not say why. “You are a waterbender?” she asked as she looked more. But then realized that the water was shimmering. She leaned over the spot as much as she could while staying on land.

“In a manner of speaking, I am, but also the giver for all of the waterbenders in this world.”

The shimmering spot in the water suddenly had eyes as it floated up and began to take form. Katara was still looking before she saw the water taking form of a person. It was hard to tell if it was a man or a woman, but the glowing eyes were still prominent as it looked at Katara with a toothy grin. It had it’s body forming as he took a more in between look that Katara still could not tell what to make of them. But their face began to form as they looked on. Lean face but ever changing and flowing like water should be.

Katara watched a bit worried as she was not sure what to do with a being of water. Especially this one that seems to be more powerful than any other spirit she had encountered on this trip. She braced herself to fight but her nerves were betraying her.

But the spirit seemed to notice her fear as they bowed to her. “Apologies for the informal approach but I must say, getting to meet a waterbender with this much potential is fascinating. And you already have a strong spiritual connection to bending even at such a young age. Yet, you do not have a master. You are a curious bender to be under my element for sure.”

“So much so that I just could not resist and simply had to meet you in person,” it said with a confident tone.

Katara was not sure if to take this as a compliment or just a strange observation as she got up. “I am sorry, great spirit,” she said slowly. “I thank you for your words, but I do not know who you are to know if that is a good thing.”

“Interesting, you bend and yet you know not of who I am,” the spirit said as they looked on more masculine for a moment. “But then again, if you are from the southern tribes, I should not be too surprised, unfortunately.”

“But you are right, introductions are in order.” With a smile and proud stand, the spirit looked at Katara. “I go by many names of the water, human or spirit tongue. I can be as raging as the oceans you humans name,” they turned into a strong masculine man; “Or as dainty as the brooks and creeks that flow into the rivers.” This time they turned into a woman and had shrunken down to be small enough to stand in Katara's hand before returning to form.

“But the name that I know the North call me is in relation to a legend about me and my sister… and a fire king, but no matter. I am named there as La.”

For anyone confused about why I am calling La they, they are a water spirit that can change their form so they can look as they want. Thought to play around with water taking on many forms for sure.

Hope you all enjoy.

[enigma-the-mysterious]

WIP Wednesday: All progress so far!

Original post

Rules

Join the Community

@aparticularbandit @whimsicalmeerkat @stonemaskedtaliesin @owlbearwrites @adhdavinci @mystarduststories

[Blue indicates previously written lines]

"Bhai, what would you do if you ever woke up as a jalebi? Would you try to eat yourself?"

"...."

"I know I would."

"Akhtar, what the fuck?!"

The point was, the man lived for food. He had the appetite of a baby elephant. At home, his doting mother had no qualms about spoiling her beloved son with his favorite delicacies. Even when he was at Ram's apartment, Akhtar was often helping himself to the snacks pilfered from his kitchen. 

So, when Ram found himself wandering into an English confectionery shop on a whim after another long and futile day spent roaming the streets of Delhi in search of his target, there was one thought that dominated his mind. 

Akhtar would have loved it here.

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

"What is this, bhai?" Akhtar asked as he curiously peered into the packet in Ram's kitchen.

Ram smiled as he put the stove on heat. "The English call it chocolate."

"Choco…late?" Akhtar repeated, rolling the new word off his tongue.

"You can put it in cakes, or sweets," Ram explained, walking past his friend to grab the bowl of water by his side. "Or use it to make a drink."

Akhtar followed him to the stove, watching as he placed the vessel on the stove. Always so observant, his Akhtar.

"Drink? Like a chai or sharbat?"

@eriquin @zyrafowe-sny @violet-prism-creatively

"Stop it!"

Bheem froze, not because of the command, but because of the voice. That damned voice.

The sea of khaki parted to make way for blood red and gold. Bheem's lips twisted in disgust. 

He held his head high and kept his eyes trained on the bars of his cell, beyond the rigid shoulders that marched towards him. Bheem did not squander his attention on his enemies.

(And not because he could not bear to see the face that looked nothing like the man he once smiled at, laughed with, ate with, called broth-)  

"Keep struggling and it is Malli who will pay for your stubbornness," he said, curt, low, cold.

@1attheedge @auburnlaughter

[Blue indicates previously written lines]

Ram hissed as he began to pull the shirt off himself. The fabric caught on the congealing blood over the claw wounds and pulled on the fragile scabs.

Fuck, that hurt.

He took a deep breath, clenched his jaw and ripped the shirt off his torso.

Ram's vision blacked out and his knees almost buckled from the searing agony that shot through his chest. He choked on a sob as hot tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

It was from the pain throbbing through his wounds, he told himself.

(He had gone through worse without batting an eye, without shedding a single tear)

@somefishycat @kalira @scifikimmi

[Blue indicates previously written lines]

The whip was slick with his blood.

"Kneel."

He wouldn't.

His back was flayed to the bone.

"Kneel."

He wouldn't.

The nails stuck to his skin, hugging, crushing, suffocating, ripping off his flesh and muscles and veins.

"Kneel."

He would'nt.

"Kneel, or die."

He chose death. It did not come easily.

@sourb0i @wizisbored @violet-prism-creatively

"And I am sorry for giving you so many scars."

"Because you never struck me at the same place twice."

Ram's breath hitched in his throat. His head snapped up and he stared at Bheem, wide eyed and dumbfounded. 

Did he....

Bheem simply smiled.

"I am a healer too, anna. Do you think I do not know how the human body works? How much punishment it can take?"

[phantomskeep]

For those who want an update on Putting the "Fun" Back in "Funeral" - chapter four is nearly done! Just writing the last POV now. Chapter 4 should be about as long as chapter 3 (maybe even longer? It's at 6.8k right now and Jason's pov is going to be pretty lengthy) :D

For now, have a WIP since I missed Wednesday! Some parts are beta'ed, some aren't. If you notice any mistakes please let me know! :)

(The "..." means scene break. I kinda just grabbed random parts from the doc and slapped 'em in here hehe)

Excerpts from Putting the "Fun" Back in "Funeral" Chapter Four: Welcome to Gotham's One-Stop Shop for Villainy

...

Danny gave an involuntary awed noise. “So you guys have heroes here, too?” A dark tendril of smog wrapped around the back of the couch, resting gently against Danny’s neck.

The idea of having other heroes around was something that greatly appealed to Danny. Being the lone super-powered protector of Amity Park for so long took its toll on the young man, even with his human companions. It just wasn’t the same, being the only one with advanced abilities. He had to take the bigger hits, he had to be the one to save his friends if they got into too great of a bind, he had to be the one to try and take on the burden of Amity Park alone when they all went off to find their place in the world. With great power comes great responsibility, after all. And being the Ghost King? Well, Danny had more than enough “great power” to spare.

The thought was just as sobering as it was exciting. Other heroes, super or not, meant that there was something to have caused those heroes to come into play. Some great villain, or a world-ending disaster, or even large crime rates. Lady Gotham only said criminals, though, so maybe there were no supervillains Danny needed to worry about.

“Yes. In fact, there is a large society of both heroes and villains.”

Well, it was a nice thought while it lasted.

“But many of the aliens you were so excited to hear about are among those heroes.” Gotham continued, not noticing Danny’s sudden mid-afterlife crisis. “There is the Batman, who is one of the founders of the Justice League. Superman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Green Arrow, and many others are all part of this superhero society - the Justice League.”

“Okay,” Danny was desperately trying to keep up with this sudden information. “So, Batman is a super-powered dude who helped to start an entire squad of superheroes?”

“He has no powers. The Dark Knight is just a man, same with Green Arrow and many others. They simply are able to keep up with the aliens, gods, and metas.”

Danny paused, taking in a breath. He touched his fingers together, pressing his palms flat. Another breath was taken, this one deeper than the last. With every ounce of teenage angst he still had within him, Danny lifted his hands up together to rest against his forehead before bringing them down in an arch that would have made Sam proud. “What the fuck.”

A laugh rolled from Gotham’s form, his guardian sneakily tightening her protective hold on him. “What the fuck indeed, Little One.”

“Okay, okay-” Danny’s voice cracked with indignation, “So regular everyday humans fight supervillains and are able to keep up with gods? And super-powered aliens?”

“Yes.”

“And one of those humans - who named himself after a bat - is the sole protector of your lair? Besides yourself? And he doesn’t let any of his superhero friends help him?”

“I never said he worked alone. Though, for a long time he did not have any help.”

“Lady G,” Danny said again with exasperation. “I repeat: what the fuck.”

...

Gotham huffed, “Because, quite frankly, there are magic users who know about your coronation. Any being with ties to death - through magic or dying or any other way - heard the Song of Ancients as you took the crown. It will not take long for your influence over the Realms to reach here, and when that occurs they will know.”

“And then the jig is up?”

“Yes, then the ‘jig is up’.”

A loud groan left him, frustration causing Danny to get up and pace. “So, what? I just go around and snatch everything while invisible? Or in the Kingly gear? Wouldn’t that just give everything away from the get-go?”

When Gotham didn’t respond, the young man turned to face her. The City Spirit was staring at him, not saying anything.

“What?” He finally asked when he couldn’t stand it.

“You can change the outfit of your form.” She stated. “Did you not know this?”

Danny let his silence speak for him.

...

It took flipping through old news channels, trolling internet forums, random fan blogs, and even watching a few interviews of various heroes for Danny to get a vague grasp of this new reality. There were some heroes that he couldn’t get a full view of - the Batman being one of them. All he could find were grainy photos of the hero and hints that he wasn’t the only hero in the city.

Which would make Danny’s job a bit harder.

During his deep dive into this dimension’s cultures, Danny flipped through the little journal Clockwork had gifted him. His mentor’s steady handwriting listed out the various artifacts he was going to need to find as well as their general location. Many of those artifacts, after using his shiny new high-tech computer to look them up, were located in public places or stored in secret, secure facilities. Yoinking the public ones wouldn’t be too much of an issue for Danny - his abilities would make it rather easy to avoid detection, after all - but he had no idea what a “Fortress of Solitude” was. Or even something as vague as “The Watchtower”. Seriously, some of these places sounded weird.

But others had cities listed out. Star City was obviously a town, he knew where Gotham was (duh), and even places like Themyscira were easy enough to Google. It was with this brilliant deduction that led Danny to believe some of the weirder names weren’t attached to a city at all which was rather worrying.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on who asked) Clockwork wasn’t one to steer Danny in a direction the old ghost knew wouldn’t work out. So with a healthy dose of blind faith, Danny chose to focus on whatever artifacts he could easily access for now. This meant Danny spent a decent amount of time casually scrolling through museum articles, even more blogs, and whatever else he could get his grubby little hands on. Honestly, it made the Ghost King feel like he was back in highschool trying to desperately write an entire research essay the day it was due.

The first item on Danny’s newly named “List of Shit I Need to Steal” was an item called the Hand of Greed. According to the Gotham Museum of Natural History’s website, the Hand of Greed was a statuette found in an Ancient Greek city. There were some general facts about when it was found, who discovered it, and how it came into the Museum’s care. The Wikipedia page elaborated more on the lore behind the dark statuette, though.

According to random people on the internet, the Hand of Greed had been found by Ancient Greek farmers after a lightning storm in a graveyard. Which then led Danny to a dead end on his brief dive into detective-ing, something his growling stomach was happy to see.

...

Jason landed hard on the roof across from the museum, rolling into a light jog as he shook off the pain racing through his knees. He could see the top of his targeted building, stopping at the edge of the rooftop he was occupying to try and get a better view.

He needed to figure out what caused the alarm to trip on the building in the first place. It didn’t seem like the type of area one of the usual Gotham Rogue Gallery would target for any occasion. Maybe Catwoman, but Jason didn’t know of any jewels in any exhibit that she would try to steal. “Oracle, this is Red Hood.”

“This is Oracle - go ahead, Hood.” Barbara's voice filled Jason’s ears as he kept a moving eye on the building across from him.

“Do you have any information on who might’ve broken in? I can’t think of anything Catwoman would try to get her hands on.”

A thoughtful hum came from the other side of the transmission. “I’m looking at the CCTV footage now. The person who broke in is still inside, and appears to be wearing a dark outfit along with a white hood. White accents as well - whoever it is, they’re not one of our usuals.” 

Jason cocked his head, body lighting up with adrenaline. “Roger, going in now. Might as well figure out who it is.” Aiming his grapple gun towards a secure part of the museum’s building, he triggered the mechanism with a satisfying pop and whirr. With a practice ease, he jumped off the rooftop, soaring above the late-night foot traffic with a small thrill. His shoulder protested the movement, still sore from the earlier tussle Jason had gotten into. 

...

Hope you all enjoyed the sneak peak! If everything works out in my favor, chapter four should be up by Monday or Tuesday :)

[wylstarion]

good morning i was tagged by the lovely @tacticalgrandma

rules: in a rb or separate post, post the last sentence you wrote in any of your wips (original, fanfic, etc), and tag as many people as there are words.

I’m feeling very generous today so I’m just gonna give y’all a snippet of my bloodweave fine dining AU that I’ve been working on. It’s way more than a single sentence LOL.

anyways i’ll tag some of my moots: @koalamatcha @butnodamage @yeahyouresocool and @foxflowering

if y’all have anything ur working on feel free to share a bit :) (no pressure tho)

“Listen, darling, I’ve had a lot of dalliances, so we really don’t have to think much of it,” Astarion’s words were sharp, an edge to his voice that was almost mean. “Just because I kissed you doesn’t mean I expect you to confess your undying love to me.”

Astarion watched Gale’s face for a moment, watching for cracks. It was easy to try to find ways to get under the man’s skin. They were quite practised in provoking each other by now, it seemed.

Gale scowled at Astarion, running his hands along the front of his apron. He took two steps forward, eyes sparking with something unreadable.

“I wouldn’t describe it as undying love, per se. Maybe something closer to provokation, an enthrallment perhaps,”

“Enthrallment?” Astarion couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his chest. “Like I’ve cast some spell over you, really? I didn’t know you enjoyed it that much,”

“And you didn’t?” Gale stepped closer now, Astarion could see the way his jaw flexed as he spoke, a sudden urge to reach out and run his fingers over the soft stubble of his beard overcoming him. Astarion balled his fists, cursing his own brain for egging on his terribly inconvenient attraction to this rather grating chef.

“I never said that,” Astarion found himself rising to Gale, face to face as he struggled to calm his drumming heartbeat. “I kissed you, you fool, of course I liked it. I’m simply not the relationship type, and I’m not looking for romance and courtship like I’m sure you’re accustomed to,”

Gale laughed then, a rich and warm sound. He stepped further into Astarion’s space, Astarion’s back flush with the stainless steel countertops. He leaned forward, full lashes framing a shimmering golden brown gaze that seemed to pin Astarion in place.

He was close now, close enough Astarion could feel the cold metal of the mini fridge against his hips. Gale’s breath was warm against his lips, smelling faintly of cigarette smoke and citrus. His chest pressed close enough that Astarion could feel the sharp outlines of the pens he kept in his front pocket against his own silken shirt. Astarion couldn’t help the way his breath caught, his traitorous head lulling backwards ever so slightly, eyes flickering for a moment as Gale pressed closer into him.

“Who said I’m looking for romance, Astarion?” Astarion’s name sounded so sweet, far too pleasant in Gale’s soft, sultry tone. For a brief minute, Astarion wondered how sweet his name would sound poured from Gale’s mouth in a tone far raspier, far needier. The thought left a pit of desire deep in his gut. He was teasing, but his tone revealed more than he likely wanted. There was earnesty, and an almost eagerness. Desire matched with desire.

“It’s like I can’t get you off my mind since that night,” Gale was practically agog with want. How he had made it so far with practically no filter and so much unfettered earnesty, Astarion would never know. “I can’t stop thinking about touching you, kissing you. I want to do it again,”

He was annoyingly honest. The hard part of Astarion’s mind wanted to brush him off, to tell him not to sound so desperate. Hypocritical, when Astarion knew that he hadn’t been able to think of anything except Gale for the last 48 hours.

His mind beamed with memories of his touch, the softness of his lips, his rough hands cascading through Astarion’s hair, grabbing at it so frantically. He kissed like he was drowning, all consuming and feverish. Images of Gale pressing him against jagged bricks, the scent of Gale’s shampoo mixing with the familiar homely scent of their restaurant. Astarion could still feel the pressure of his lips, the way his tongue licked into his mouth and left him wanting, wandering hands that groped and grasped his body with such reverence, copious amounts of alcohol and desperate pleasure diluting the better parts of his senses. It was heady, intoxicating, and almost downright maddening with how quickly it caused Astarion’s knees to buckle, blood rushing to his face in what surely was a humiliating blush across his cheeks.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Astarion had the forethought to raise his hand to Gale’s chest, half-heartedly trying to push him away. They really shouldn’t be doing this here. “Service starts in an hour, chef, and I would really prefer none of our coworkers see us like this,”

“I need to hear you say it,” Gale moved to grasp at Astarion’s wrist, his finger’s clasping over Astarion’s pulse point. His other hand pressed against the steel of the countertops. An impish smile spread across his face, now keenly aware of how fast Astarion’s heart was racing. Astarion was caged against his frame and the line, the icy metal a thrilling contrast against his quickly warming skin.

“You’re absolutely insufferable, do you know that?” Astarion snipped, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes grew wide at Gale’s touch, a soft gasp leaving his lips as Gale squeezed at his wrist. “We make out once and now you’re practically smitten!”

He hissed as Gale leaned his weight into the counter, the masculine angles of his face framed by loose hairs falling from his updo, his eyes searching Astarion’s expression for any signs of discomfort.

“Tell me you want this,” Gale’s voice was a murmur against his lips, and Astarion’s mind sang with desire. It was infuriating, how quickly this vexing, bloviating man could have Astarion flustered, weak in the knees and practically keening against his touch. “Tell me you want me to touch you again,”

Fuck.

Astarion’s breath caught in his throat. Any sour words, any snappy denials he had at the forefront of his mind seeming to disappear as Gale’s eyes met his, soft and sincere. His expression was intense, but he didn’t move any further. Astarion relished in the weight of him, the warmth that spread through his body at every point of contact.

Fine. Astarion thought to himself. If this foolish, wide-eyed man wanted to try his hand at seduction, Astarion could do the same.

[mr-nauseam]

for this ask game

Can you tell me about "You let me desecrate you"?

I'M SUCH A YAPPER. SORRY GRACE THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG BECAUSE I HAVE A LOT OF THINGS TO SAY ABOUT THAT FIC. It was tormenting me on my wips for MONTHS so I DO HAVE A LOT TO SAY. (Favorite Scene) From the second chapter in general I quite liked writing that whole scene when Sejanus is undressing and we find out how he's been living those terrible months and all that makes him decide to go “murder” Coriolanus in the shower <3 (which by the way was a blatant reference to the murder scene in psychosis, which I did not only because it's a very iconic scene but because the murderer is dressed as his mother and there's something abt Coriolanus forcing Sejanus to fulfill a maternal role in his life in BE...)

I especially liked this part: The door is opened carefully, his steps are silent and slow, he tries to hide among the crying of the shower, until the curtain shows him a silhouette he knows well. One that he has adored madly, a blurred image that hides his reward, the fair price for what Sejanus has lost, what has been taken from him. He pulled back the curtain. Abrupt movement. The weapon felt heavy as he placed it against Coriolanus's chest, aiming straight for his heart, and Sejanus remembered for the first time in years that he was actually taller than Coriolanus.

LIKEEE Coriolanus IS SHORTER THAN SEJANUS IN HEIGHT, VERY SHORT I WOULD SAY, but he is so BIG in a way. The power he hold over Sejanus and their relationship is so immense that Sejanus feel small next to him even physically, that he has forgotten that HE IS TALLER!!! That's craaazy I liked too the final scene of the third chapter (and in general of the fic) were I talk abt the fusion of both in one monstrous being. (My favorite chapter) I really like the 3 chapters but I have a special relation with THE SECOND FUCKING CHAPTER, LIKE NOT GET ME WRONG I ADORE DO SECOND CHAPTER BUT IT TOO FUCKING DRIVE ME CRAZY, IT TOOK ME AN INSANE AMOUNT OF TIME MANAGED TO WRITE IT. Honestly I feel I lost for complete the control of that chapter 😭 it's SOMETHING ELSE UH . So I kind HATE IT WITH MY SOUL and LOVE IT AT THE SAME TIME. (Hardest scene to write) ALL THE SEX SCENES SKJHSKJHSJKHS Vicó was making fun of me bc this was "😰" my face everytime I remembered THE SMUT FIC NEED INDEED HAVE SMUT... I simply suck so bad to write smut yet Im doing it bc I think we need more bottom Sejanus in snowjanus tag (Favorite character to write in the fic)

💖 SEJANUS 💖

Look writing Coriolanus sometimes is fun but I WAS SICK OF THAT MAN, because an unwritten rule is that in our collabs series (Bad Ending & Laboratory Au) I usually do Coriolanus POV and vicó does Sejanus POV (the reason is because I love her sejanus pov and she for a reason I don't understand likes how I write coriolanus) it's not a real rule because when the time comes she has written coriolanus and I have written sejanus but by the time I was doing this fic, I had already spent a lot of time writing from Coriolanus' POV, SO I WAS TIRED OF HIM, besides even if always is tragic and depressive, I always enjoy getting into Sejanus' head in bad ending.

(Favorite dynamic to write in the fic) The whole fic is centered around Snowjanus so clearly them but I liked the small mention of Sejanus and Strabo's fucked up relationship I did (Why I chose that title) I suffer from the sickness called "all my fics have names of songs," I'm also an addicted to make playlist at the slightest provocation so OBVIOUSLY I MADE A PLAYLIST JUST FOR THIS FANFIC, and one of the first songs I put in it was: Closer by Nine Inch Nails.

So the tittle is taken from the first verse: You let me violate you You let me desecrate you You let me penetrate you You let me complicate you

There were many parts of that song that I wanted to use as a title but in the end I went for that one because of the meaning of desecrate.

desecrate verb to damage or show a lack of respect toward something holy or respected.

There's a recurrent topic in the fic of Sejanus trapped in the madonna-whore complex in Coriolanus's eyes (pure or corrupted), of Coriolanus saying he adore and love Sejanus but literal abusing him and never having any respect for him, and all the blaming Snow do to Sejanus FOR THE OWN DAMAGE HE DO TO HIM???????? It feel adequate in a way, all this Sejanus is holy, but he "let" Coriolanus to desecrate him. (A fun fact about the fic) It started as a joke… Me and vicó, we talked fthat from our perspective Coriolanus is yes a pathetic virgin but he sure had a thousand kinks, and would ask Sejanus for “strange” things in bed, and how Sejanus knows how to use a gun in canon,,,, yeah gun kink appear in the talk and we discuss about the difficulties of them using a gun because well Coriolanus is paranoid and blah blah blah.

How did I end up writing it seriously and on top of that dealing with such heavy topics like Coriolanus' power and murder fantasies, Sejanus then fantazing to murder his abuser and etc etc? WELL THAT WAS VICOS FAULT because she put at the beginning of "My boy only breaks his favorite toys,"a scene of Sejanus fantasizing about murdering Coriolanus and SOMETHING CHANGED IN MY HEAD. And somehow the gun is a great symbol of the power imbalance that exists in their relationship, and after I wrote District Whore for Bad Ending Universe, I lost fear to post terrible smut SO I WAS ALL "WHO'S GONNA STOP MEEEE??? WHO'S GONNA STOP MEEE???" and no one stop me indeed, and this how THAT FIC HAPPEN...

[cycas]

Ancestry Makes the Man

For @tolkienocweek day 1: Family, here's a chapter of a long-neglected WIP about a Second Age Numenorean settler who lived in Lond Daer.

*******

I’m an old man now. If the Enemy returns again, as the Elves say he may, one day, I shall not be here to see it. 

I saw him once and did my part, when he came in flame and fury with his hosts even to the western coasts, and that was enough.  

Now I sit under the big oak tree and look out over the shining blue waters, and I am glad that I and the oak tree are still alive under the spring skies.  

But this account is not for me.  I am writing this, my last report, for my distant kinsman, Elrond.  

He writes in his letter, ‘that it would be well for these matters not to be forgotten’.  

How can I answer no?  I shall write my story, and then, he tells me, he will have copies made, and it will be remembered among the immortal Elves, and a copy sent Over Sea to Númenor, to the King’s own archive, and maybe even into the Uttermost West. Such fame, to send word out among those who have never heard of me! I know it’s an old man’s vanity, but I don’t care.  I’ll take my small immortality in words.  It’s better than being dead and forgotten, for I know Death is beginning to come close at my heels now, a hunt with only one ending..

So.  I should speak first of my family, of my ancestors.  Thus, you shall know who I am, and how I came to write this account. 

Ancestry makes the man, so the saying goes. 

My name is Berengar, and I am called a Númenorean, but I have never been to Númenor.  

It was my great-grandfather Derufin who came here to Eriador from Númenor.  

In those days, the word goes, the harbour of Lond Daer was the main settlement on the coast, and Tharbad, which is now a great trading town, was little more than a market-village for the growing timber-trade.  It was timber that first brought Númenor here: timber for buildings and ships, but as the forests fell, meadows spread out where they had been, feeding the great herds of Númenorean cattle and sheep, for Númenor needed more and more leather and wool.   

Nobody was too concerned that the woods already had people living in them.  There was a lot of woodland, in those days.  They used to say that a squirrel could go from Lond Daer all the way through the mountains to the Great River and beyond, without setting foot to the ground. 

To eyes from Númenor, one forest is much like another. My great-grandfather did not, I think, understand why the people who lived in the woodlands along the River Gwathló would not simply move away from the timber-works and the herds, or better still, buy cattle and build herds and timber-yards of their own. 

I am none too sure myself how to explain that choice, even though I have kin on both sides and have lived my life, to some extent, upon the cusp, neither Númenorean, nor a Woodsman. I find myself unable to speak for either side. 

The common way of thinking is that the Men of the Wood had no desire to sail beyond sight of land, or build tall towers, or change the ways of their fathers. 

I hesitate to say they felt no discontent, because can there be any Man of whom that is true? At any rate, their discontent did not lead them to fell trees, or make cities. 

But the Men of the Sea desired all those things and more. 

Further east, in Tharbad, it was different. Númenor brought trade, new knowledge and unknown luxuries, and in Tharbad, there were many who took to the new ways and made the best of them. I’ve kin in Tharbad, and the people there call themselves Númenorean, though there are those who are no more than five feet tall, bald as an egg on top and bearded beside.  In Tharbad, almost all the children learn Navigation, Architecture and Law as matter of course.

But not so in the coastlands around Lond Daer.  

Kinsmen I never knew were among those who raided the Númenorean settlements, stealing sheep, killing cattle.  Sometimes they went so far as to attack the trading ships passing up and down the Gwathló river, and that was a perilous enterprise, for if caught, the attackers risked death or transportation to Númenor or Pelargir or perhaps some still more distant colony. 

There were few who could hope to make their way home again to the western woods after many years of servitude to the Crown estates. Life is long for Numenoreans, and so are the sentences they hand down upon their enemies. And yet the attacks went on, and along the rivers, fort after fort was built, to ward off the men of the woods. 

So the world stood when my great-grandfather came here  from Númenor as a young man: a younger son eager to make his way in the world. He was not himself counted royal, as these things are reckoned in Númenor,  but he was a great-great-great-grandson of Elros Earendilion, via the great king’s youngest son’s youngest daughter. 

Or... so he said.  I believe there are a great many of our kin at home, by now, and it’s a long, long way from Númenor to the mouth of the shadowed river Gwathló. 

I only remember him as an old man, stiff in the back, with a great craggy nose much like my own. But in our family, we say that in his youth he had the height and shining dark hair from the portraits of King Elros Earendilion himself.  He was beardless as one of the king’s line all his life, as I am myself.  

That would be an advantage for a young man even now, and more so then, when there were none too many sons of Númenor on the western shores of Eriador. With this advantage, and, I must admit, a certain lack of scruple, he rose to second-in-command one of the new river-forts, built to ward off the people of the woodlands. 

I remember, even as a very old man, he always dressed very much in the old Númenorean style, with the long wide belt double-wrapped, and he wore his grey hair long and loose, with just a head-band to keep it from tangling. He used to say it made the right impression.  Though, I don’t know if they even wore their hair like that in Armenelos. 

He said they did, but then, he said he was a great-great-great-grandson of Elros Earendilion, and I’ve had my doubts about that, too. 

I cut my hair short, and wear a good woollen hat on top. It’s warmer in the winter, and I can’t imagine anyone hearing my manner of speech and thinking I am from Armenelos, even if I wanted them to. 

Ancestry makes the man, so the saying goes, but thinking of my great-grandfather, I wondered if it was the man that made the ancestry. Or I always did, until I went out to war, and met Elrond...

No matter. I was writing of my great-grandfather, founder of our house.  

So: he had his navy pay and a little investment of some kind from Númenor.  He said it came from a childless kinsman at home in Númenor, who died before I was born.  But I don’t think he ever intended to go home to Númenor, where descendants of Elros are unremarkable, and land and houses expensive.

Wherever he got the money, he invested in shipping; part-shares ships sailing home with cargoes of wood and leather. Small cargo of gems from Eregion, and metal-work from the great and renowned smithies of Khazad-dûm.  

And people, too. It was his duty to deal with those who attacked Númenorean traders, stole Númenorean goods, and deal them justice, even if that justice was none too particular, and carried heavy chains. 

If it had not been him, it would have been another man. Númenorean thralls eat well. Some of them do come home afterwards. But I cannot feel easy in my mind about it. 

He was a hard man. My great-grandfather’s name is remembered among my kinsmen in the wood, and it is not remembered fondly. 

The usual tradition for those not destined for high office was to leave the navy at the age of sixty years. By that time he already had a house in the port of Lond Daer, and another in Tharbad.  In Tharbad, he married Abrainzil, a lady with no great ancestry to boast of for all her Númenorean name, but whose well-established brewery in Tharbad produced ales that were much in demand by the Dwarves, who in those days often paid in gold for goods that pleased them. A prosperous ancestry to be born to.  A thought comes to my mind, which I shall write down here, in this report that will be sent to Numenor.  And that is: A man can choose his path. He cannot choose his ancestors.

[acatalystrising]

As fellow member of the Church of Boba Fett ♥ May I please have anything for the song 'Sunflower' - Post Malone.

Can be of Boba, can be anyone. No context (even tho I break this rule a lot lmao), any style, any pair, can be a wip, or just write it as you feel it, hear it, vibe to it. Anything. Go! ♥

*casually vibes* ♥

GAAHH my Boba bestie this took far too long to answer, and I am SO sorry you had to wait! Just had a death in the family so I had to take some time away to process. But I’m back with a lovely one shot that I had a blast writing!

The Church of Boba Fett needs as much content of our beloved green tin can man as possible, and I hope this was worth the wait 💚🖤

Boba Fett knew you wanted him.

It wasn’t a matter of an overly inflated ego on his part or a lack of obvious flirtation on yours. To put it simply, you were pure sunlight, something brilliant and blazing in his often bloodstained world of crime and order. Something untarnished by the very violence he’d been born into.

The violence he’d committed.

It wasn’t even so simple to say he didn’t deserve you. Yes, that would be true, however dramatic a statement in his opinion, but there was something else. Something that itched in the back of his brain even as he watched you from atop his throne, seated near the back of the room, engaged in conversation with several people who, from his perspective, would easily kill you for the right price.

He cared for you, truly, truly cared. And Boba knew that logically, the best way to protect you was either to send you away, or claim you as his own. None would dare lay a finger on you if you were his. He’d ensure it.

But still, he hesitated.

At the end of the day, it was a simple truth. A manacle over the proverbial ankle, truths clamping down to tight they might as well have choked him.

You were fiery, passionate. Full of vigor and sparks, so capable. But you were also innocent. Untouched by the bloodshed he knew like breathing. And he could not, in good conscience, pull you into a world you were never meant to be a part of.

He sighed, his breath hot and weighty on his lips. His armor suddenly felt too heavy on his chest. Even heavier as the hours bled to the evening, visitors finally slipping out of the throne room for the evening. But not you - as stubborn as Fennec in so many ways, who made her point quite painfully made via a raised eyebrow, followed by a smirk, then her final wink as she left the room.

Boba was very grateful for his helmet when you stood, shyly ambling toward his throne under the guise of cleaning, nimble fingers picking up pieces of trash that littered the ground. For some reason it made him angry. You were too pretty to lower yourself so.

Damn it. He was too attached.

“Don’t worry about that, mesh’la.” His voice cut through the room, tone a tad harsher than he’d intended. “Leave it for the droids.”

You blinked, finally looking up at him, then glancing away in an unsuccessful attempt to hide your blush. Stars, you were like a sunflower. Radiant, ethereal, and too perfect for his broken hands to sully.

“Okay,” you dipped your head in acknowledgment, still hovering on no move feet, as if waiting for something. Disguising with with a nervous dusting of the throne’s steps.

Words hovered unspoken, thick as the tension in the air. Worry wove into your brows like a sudden change of weather, tension of an oncoming storm. Did you think he wasn’t interested? How could he let you down easy? Tell you that he was interested, but…

But, what?

Kriffing damn it. Boba Fett was afraid. Afraid of hurting you, of marring your sunshine. Of not being good enough for you.

“Well, it’s getting late. If you need anything, just let me know.” You dipped your head in a goodbye that came across too hasty, clothing rustling as you went to flee.

The sight made everything in Boba revolt.

“Wait.” The word slipped from his mouth before he could stop himself. You spun on your heels, expression undeniably hopeful. Oh gods, this was too much. “We need to talk, little one.”

You blushed at the moniker, but swallowed hard as you approached.

“I…”

“You don’t have to do this.” You cut him off with surprising bravado, hands clenched at your sides until they were shaking. “You don’t have to let me down easy. I’m not stupid, neither are you. Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done: letting me work here, protecting me, giving me a chance to get back on my feet. Nothing has to change. I’m…used to it.”

Boba blinked behind his helmet, shock rippling through him like a tidal wave. Stars, she was more perceptive than he thought. There was a strength to her he hadn’t previously seen, and also…an old wound. Maker, he’d been a kriffing jerk.

“What,” he kept his tone soft, lacking the harsh edge it normally carried. “Are you used to?”

It was your turn to blink. Clearly, you weren’t expecting the question.

“I…” you nervously crossed your arms, chewing the inside of your cheek. “I’m…used to…being ignored. People don’t look at me and see someone worth pursuing. Just,” you looked up, meeting his unseen gaze, “well, just someone who is useful. And that’s okay, you know. I’m happy here, truly, and I don’t need anything else other than-“

“Easy there,” he gently interrupted your rambling, the words softer than even he thought possible. You blinked again, but pointedly refused to meet his gaze. “Look at me, sweet girl.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you obeyed, and something in him constricted in pain when he saw the tears forming in your eyes. Boba chose his next words carefully.

“I‘ve never ignored you. Always noticed your smile.” He removed his helmet with a sigh, meeting your gaze with his own. “You deserve someone as bright and lovely as you - someone who can usher you into new depths of love and happiness. I’m broken, scarred, a killer…”

“You think that would stop me?” Your voice was surprisingly strong despite the tear that slipped down your cheek. “You think I haven’t already thought of that? Boba…I know who you are. What you are. And that’s why…I find you so endearing. Why I want to be with you.”

You thought him endearing? Boba could barely believe it, if not for the sincerity in your tone. He fell silent, pondering your words, and you stood there, braving his silence, wiping the tear away with a trembling finger.

Finally, at long last, Boba caved. He couldn’t hold back any longer, or deny you what he felt you both knew to be true. And he’d left you waiting long enough.

“Come here, little one,” he held out an arm like a white flag, and you didn’t hesitate to approach. He guided you onto his lap, holding you close against his chest, and felt you relax against him. “This okay?”

You nodded eagerly, curling closer, fingers clutching the fabric at his shoulder.

“I want you, mesh’la.” His voice was a low rumble as he caressed your cheek, making you shiver. “If you’ll have me.”

“I want you too,” your affirmation was like a song in his ears. “I want to be yours. Only yours.”

“Then you will be mine, little sunflower.” He ran a hand though your hair, then your jaw, fingertips lingering on your chin and lifting your lips to his. “Always.”

[eden031]

Late night revelations

Jonathan Archer/reader, Jonathan Archer/original female character

Late night conversations, major character injury, Ensign!Reader, Ambiguous/open ending, pre-slash, insomnia

A/N: Hey, so this is not proof read or beta read. This was an ancient WIP I dug out and decided to finish, this might have a few errors, hope you still enjoy!

Summary: Neither her nor the Captain can sleep at night, late night conversations ensue and feelings grow.

Her steps were loud compared to the silence of the ship. The only sounds coming from around her were the hums of the machinery and the occasional snoring loud enough to get through the doors of the quarters. Most of the crew was asleep, only the people pushing the night shift would still be awake, only manning the engine room and the bridge in case of emergencies. During the night the usual buzz of the ship quieted down and made it an almost otherworldly experience to walk through the long corridors.

They had been in space for a few weeks now and she had come to multiple conclusions over the course of their journey. The crew of this ship had grown together, many of the crewmembers spent all of their freetime together, playing cards or board games, watching movies, training or reading, Hoshi had even created a language group for people interested in learning new languages. Most of it also pointed towards boredom, most hours spent working on the ship or in space travel, there was barely any interaction with other species and most of the time only the higher ranking officers got the chance to meet new lifeforms. Finally her destination was in sight: the mess hall. In the last few days it had become less and less easy for her to find sleep, tossing and turning in her bunk. If she was honest with herself she was not sure if it was because of her roommate who talked rather loudly in her sleep or if it was because an uneasy feeling had started growing on her mind, a feeling of restlessness. As the doors to the mess hall opened she saw a figure standing at one of the windows. Their back was turned away from her as she made her way into the room, the man turned slightly and a gasp almost left her lips.

“Ensign,” the soft voice of the Captain greeted her. He looked tired, like something was plaguing his mind.

“Captain,” she nodded and made her way over to the dispenser, ordering a mug of chamomile tea. She hoped that it would ease her mind, maybe she would have to ask T’Pol about the Vulcan meditation techniques.

“Can’t sleep?” the Captain asked, his voice sounded rough, probably from not speaking for a while.

“No, Sir,” she shook her head, taking a seat near the window. Clasping the mug in her hands she took a deep inhale from the scent.

“Yeah, me neither.” the man sighed, moving over to her, gesturing towards the bench she had taken a seat on. “Mind if I join you?” he muttered softly, she simply shook her head, staring into the mug in her hands. The smell of pine and orange engulfed her as the man took a seat beside her, a small smile grew on her lips at that, it reminded her of her aunt’s home in the countryside.

“What is keeping you up, Ensign?” he asked, his gaze still firmly fixed on the stars moving outside, they were currently travelling somewhere around warp 4, fast enough to make good time to the next inhabited or habitable system. She sighed, setting the mug down, glancing at the man, whose face was beautifully illuminated by the dim light of the stars going past them.

“A lot of things, Captain.” she paused, not sure if she should really be sharing her deepest worries that actually kept her up at night with her Captain. Deciding to bring a bit of humour into the situation she decided to add, “But mostly my bunkmate, Crewman Powalski has the unfortunate habit of talking in her sleep.”

A deep, single laugh came from the man by her side. His eyes were slightly crinkled by the sides, for the first time she noticed that the man looked rather old for someone in his late thirties, that was at least what his profile said when she had read up on him before she took up her posting.

“If you want…” he trailed off, “There are still a set of empty quarters on E Deck, I know that you work a lot and it would be irresponsible to let you work sleep deprived,“ the man turned away from her, smiling slightly as she gaped at him.

„Sir…“ she was not sure what to say. The prospect of having her own quarters was truly tempting, but she knew that these quarters were kept empty in case another high ranking officer would join the mission or they had distinguished guests on Enterprise. Then there was the fact that he knew what she was doing during her duty shifts, something she had thought improbable.

„If you don‘t want to have these quarters I understand, but from what I have heard you are one of the people on this ship that deserves the most rest.“ a slight twinkle in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat.

„It would be amazing to have these quarters…permission to speak freely, Sir?“ she asked carefully. A laugh came from the Captain, who nodded.

“Go ahead, Ensign.“ a smile settled on his face as she took another sip from her mug.

„I do enjoy the company of Crewman Powalski, but her talking is driving me to the brink of insanity.“ she sighed, „It is not just when she is asleep, it feels like she never stops talking. In some way it is endearing and I really like her, but when you have spent the entire day with people and creatures that never shut up I think it is understandable to want some peace.“ she sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose.

„I understand that. Especially when you have to work with Dr. Phlox‘s menagerie every day.“ he laughed. Her head snapped up, again she wondered how he knew what she did.

„Sir, may I ask why you know so much about my work?“ she asked carefully, not sure if it might sound self absorbed.

„I read your research, I did so before you even came on board the Enterprise. You got to work with the Vulcans…on Vulcan and as it seems you are one of the few humans they seem to tolerate.“ he laughed, „Phlox often tells me about your research regarding the possibility of crossing plants from Earth with plants of other planets, I think something Vulcan with an earth Lily?“ he tilted his head to the side.

„Yes, I was trying to work on combining the DNA of a Vulcan Favinti plant with the DNA of a Turk‘s cap lily.“ she explained, trying to keep it a bit more plain and not throw around all the terminology she would use in a research paper.

„How is that coming along?“ he asked, his brow raised. He seemed genuinely curious about this, something that made her rather happy.

„Well, I have succeeded in creating multiple different hybrids, some of them have come out how I wanted them to come out visually, others not so much. However the bigger idea behind this experiment was trying to find a way to make sure these hybrids could reproduce naturally and did not need artificial assistance. The ones that are not as visually appealing as the others have the potential to reproduce on their own while the others don‘t. This is what I am currently trying to figure out, how this came to be and with which genomes this is connected so that I can create the final version of it.“ she explained to the Captain. He nodded slowly.

„It sounds interesting, but may I ask why you are doing this?“ he sounded almost amused as he asked the question. Right now she did not care about it, she was just happy to tell the man about all of her ideas for future experiments, but also the cheesy reason why she was creating the hybrid.

„Well, first of all the basic idea of this whole project was trying to find out if the DNA from something from Earth and the DNA from something originating from Vulcan could even be combined! Now that we know that it works I would like to test it on smaller animals as well, in the long run the research could also be used in case there is something like a Vulcan-Human hybrid, we know that even in plants and animals on Vulcan and Earth certain genomes are similar to the ones of the further developed species. But to be honest with you, that is mostly for the reports…“ she felt her face heat up as the Captain quirked his eyebrow at her, „The reason I actually began this project was because I wanted to give something symbolising science, but also the growing together of Earth and Vulcan to two Vulcans I have worked with previously.“ she smiled softly as the Captain looked slightly taken aback by that.

„This sounds interesting. But I have to say that you are very optimistic to think that there would ever be a Vulcan-Human hybrid, I honestly don‘t think that the Vulcans would let that happen.“ he paused, she simply shrugged. He sighed, shaking his head slightly, „Still you never know what will happen, better have some knowledge on the subject than going in blind. Who were the Vulcans you worked with?“ he sounded genuinely interested again and she could feel her stomach begin to stir. She had always secretly hoped that Captain Archer would find her or at least her research interesting.

„Uhm, one of them was from the Vulcan Science Academy, Osu Katha, he was the one that kind of guided me through the program and was one of my closest colleagues while I was on Vulcan.“ she explained, „And Ambassador Soval, he was the one that recommended me to the Science Academy as a candidate for the exchange.“ she almost laughed as she saw how Archer‘s eyes almost popped out of their sockets at the mention of Ambassador Soval.

„But to be honest with you, I think Ambassador Soval would rather gouge out his own eyes than admit that he likes me.“ she sighed, that much was true. They had talked a lot and she had thought that the man and she had become rather familiar over the course of almost three years, but after she had called him her friend he looked like someone had just told him that his ears had become round.

The Captain laughed and shook his head. There was something more relaxed about him now, almost like the worries that had plagued him before were replaced with pleasantness. She smiled at the older man, the butterflies in her stomach doing backflips. If she was honest with herself she had always found the Captain attractive, but this was different now. Usually he was stern, her commanding officer, but here right now he looked so soft and at peace.

„And you, Sir? What is keeping you up, if I may ask?“ she asked carefully. The man beside her sighed, shaking his head.

„The usual burdens of the Captain.“ He smiled at her again, „Wondering if I made the right decision, questioning if my approach to certain things was right and thinking about possibilities to proceed.“ his shoulders sagged slightly, a sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head. “There are always things I think I could have done differently or should have done differently.“

„Sir, I don‘t know how it is to be a Captain of a Starship, the Enterprise no less, but my mother used to tell me that the past is the past. That no matter how much we think about what we could have done differently the only thing that we can change is our outlook and how we will handle similar situations in the future. I know it is easy to say this as someone that is no in your shoes Captain and to be honest I do not always follow my own advice, but the crew needs you. We need you to be confident in your decisions…“ she paused, the man looked at her with something that she could only describe as fondness.

“Thank you, Ensign.“ he smiled softly, „Sometimes I need to be reminded of that, though most of the time no one is bold enough to tell me to stop overthinking.“ a laugh escaped him as she felt her face burn with embarrassment.

They sat together in silence for a few moments, the Captain seemed to be lost in thought while she continued to stare into her mug. This mission was more than she had ever expected, it was more than she had ever hoped to dream of becoming a part of. Sometimes she wished that she and the research team had more opportunities to leave the ship and explore different worlds, but right now she knew that the simple fact that they were part of the mission is enough.

„Is someone waiting for you to come back?“ the Captain asked, it was barely above a whisper. A soft laugh escaped her.

„My family is waiting for me. I know my parents want me to write more to them, but if I am honest with you Sir, I don't really know what to tell them. They have already retired and are basically only waiting for me to start popping out grandchildren. And the rest of my family…well they are all busy with their own lives.“ she smiled. The man raised his eyebrow with amusement, again evident on his face.

„Sounds like you are looking forward to getting back home.“ he laughed slightly, sarcasm dripping from his words. She let out a snort.

„Definitely not. I love my family, but honestly if I had to choose I would much rather go on vacation with the crew of this ship than them.“ she sighed softly, thinking that there was one person in particular she wanted to go on vacation with, but knew that this little dream of her‘s would never become a reality. She mentally slapped herself, the man was her commanding officer, someone she reported to and who gave her orders, it was against every protocol there was regarding relationships between crew members, something that was a sensitive topic anyways.

They continued to chat about this and that as the night went on, she learned a lot more about her Captain than she had ever thought she would know. How Commander Tucker had been the one to help him push the NX program while the Vulcans were so against it, how his father had shaped his dreams of commanding a starship one day and how much he hoped to have an impact on people's lives, to make them better and more fulfilled. She had just sat there and listened to him talk about all of the things that had been on his mind for so long. He looked so different then, his face smoothed out and his eyes sparkling in the dim light of the deserted mess hall. She had always admired him, always thought that he was meant to commandeer the Enterprise, he was one of the few people in Starfleet she actually thought was competent enough to go through with this mission. He had enough drive and determination to keep going even after a bad mission. He was the perfect Captain for Enterprise.

After their initial late night meeting in the mess hall they became somewhat regular. Even after she had changed quarters she had nights where she barely slept, not being able to rest, too much on her mind while her body desired to finally slip into the peacefulness of sleep.

Every time she could not sleep she came to the mess hall, sometimes it was completely empty, then she just sat by one of the view ports, looking out as the stars shot past her at astonishing speeds. Thinking about the events of the day or about her research, more often than not she also found her way to the lab she worked in so regularly, staring at the hybrid plant she had been working on for such a long time. It never seemed to have the same effect, no matter how much she wandered around the ship and stared at the planet she loved dearly it never caused the same kind of deep relief the talks with the Captain caused. She never felt like the weight of the world was lifted from her shoulders and she could breathe again.

Other nights she would enter the mess hall and see the now familiar silhouette of her Captain. When they found themselves together they sat at one of the tables, talking in hushed tones. Most nights it almost felt intimate, to sit with him in the darkness and share thoughts that needed to be brought to the light. They could be honest during these times, they could speak their mind and express their worries. She learned more and more about the Captain, more about his childhood, about his time with Starfleet, about the time before the launch of the Enterprise. He never mentioned how even after she had changed quarters she seemed to be restless at night, something she appreciated greatly. For the first time in her life she felt understood by someone else. It was not the surface kind of understanding some people had of her, it felt like the Captain could understand every single one of her facettes, understand why she had chosen Starfleet, why this mission meant so much to her. He listened, always speaking with consideration and she never wanted to let these nights pass. But all good things come to an end, even the nights spent in the mess hall where time seems to stand still, where the universe seemed to hold its breath so that they could enjoy some peace together. Usually the exhaustion of the day overwhelmed them at some point and they walked back to their quarters. She always felt so much happier and more at peace than she had before. Her dreams were haunted by the attentive eyes of the Captain, his smile, she often dreamed about how it would feel to be held by him, how it would be like to lay next to him and be held through the night.

Their talks had been happening for a few months now and it had been a day after an especially long and sleepless night spent in the mess hall talking to him. She had been in sickbay, talking to Phlox about ways to improve some of her experiments, as well as exchanging ideas about possible ways to incorporate her research and her findings in the medical field. Most of her suggestions she had already told the Captain and like always he had listened carefully and given her even more ideas and possibilities into account. If she ever published her work she would have to give him some credit for some of the things she had found out; he had given her so many ideas, told her about ways to improve her work and just listened to her when she needed someone to talk to.

It had happened so suddenly that she had not been sure what exactly had happened when the entire ship shook violently. Once the alarms began to sound she was sure what was happening: they were under attack. Like usual it had not taken long until the first casualties began coming into sickbay so the doctor urged her to stay and help.

She clung to one of the beds as the ship shook again. Smoke was everywhere as she continued to administer a dose of pain medication to the crewman laying on the bed. Blood came oozing from large cuts from his arm and head. Treating him while alarms were blaring through the room and Phlox was shouting commands to everyone that had a basic understanding of medical knowledge was more than nerve wrecking. Grabbing the electrical suture from the tray beside her she began working on closing the wounds. The smell of fire coming from somewhere promised more crew members to come in with burn injuries, probably varying in severity; she only hoped that no plasma conduits had ruptured, plasma burns being the worst kinds of burns to treat.

Finally she finished the suture, turned to make her way to one of the consoles to get the next hypospray for the pain when the ship shook again. Then everything happened too fast for her to even register what had happened. A high pitched whirring sound surrounded her, then the console exploded, flames shooting out of the opening created, shrapnell and fire coming her way. A sharp pain spread through her chest as she stumbled back from the console. Everything around her spun like a carousel, as the ship shook again her legs gave out beneath her. While tumbling to the ground, barely able to breath, she saw where the pain was coming from.

A piece of metal protruded from her chest, blood came gushing out of it as she laid on the ground, not sure how much time had actually passed since the explosion. The sounds around here were fuzzy and she could only make out Phlox’s voice, shouting something, she was not sure what the Denobulan was saying, was it her name?

As his face came into her field of vision black spots began dancing in front of her, everything suddenly turned dark, the only thing she still could make out was the sharp pain in her chest as everything around her went completely dark.

Warmth. That was nice. And something soft. Also nice. Was she dead? No, this was not what death felt like, right? She wiggled her fingers: they moved. Slowly she tried to pry her eyes open, being met by nothing but darkness. Had the explosion blinded her? Maybe she was dead. Then she heard it, soft and even huffs of air coming from somewhere. Someone was close to her head, turning her head carefully she saw the familiar figure of the Captain slumped in a chair by the side of the bed she was laying in.

Her eyes scanned his features, he looked exhausted even though he seemed to be asleep, deep lines were visible on his forehead and between his brows. She could feel her heart hammer in her chest as the realisation hit her, he had sat at her bedside even if there were probably many more things on his agenda that were more important. There was a small cut on his forehead, probably from being thrown around during the attack on the ship. Her eyes scanned the rest of sickbay, besides the cages of Phlox‘s animals it was empty, not even the Denobulan scurrying around the room. As she tried to sit up a quiet whimper left her lips, right the injury. Looking over at the Captain hse saw that her action and the sound had woken him, he had his eyes opened slightly, then grew almost comically large as he saw that she was awake.

„Lay back down,“ he instructed, gently pushing her back down on the bed. She simply nodded, laying back down.

„How long was I out?“ she asked carefully, not sure if she actually wanted to hear the answer to her question.

„Only a few hours,“ he explained, gently taking her hand. It was something he had sometimes done when they had spoken in the mess hall, though it only happened rarely. His eyes sparkled in the dim light of sickbay, they were filled with worry and something that looked like fondness.

„I am glad you are alright.“ he paused, his expression shifting into something she could not quite place, „I am not sure what I would have done if I had lost you.“ he smiled, gently squeezing her hand. As these words left his lips her heart began hammering in her chest. Staring at him in shock, the only thing she was able to verbalise was a quiet humm. Before she was able to shake her shock he gently kissed her forehead.

„Rest, I am going to get Phlox so that he can take a look at you.“ With that the Captain left her extremely flustered in one of the beds in sickbay. Maybe her feelings for him weren‘t so foolish after all.