#also when I get my ao3 account next week(estimated) then I’m going to be reading so much fan fic from this

[tortibomb]

Ga-On is going to destroy the world with kindness! I am crying right now. This mother fucker could have been a murder kitten but he took the better road. Ga-On giving back to the fraud victims pulled on my heart strings. That had to be healing. I am sure it didn’t fix everything on the inside, but it definitely had to help. His little smile. 🥹

Ugh!!!!! He is so precious. He has such a good heart. ❤️

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Frozen

*screeches in delight* Ok so I just finished the TSS masterlist (also please add me to the taglist) and at least in the past, you did literal interpretations of sayings. My question is, does this apply to fight/flight/freeze or brain freeze, and if so, do you have the spoons to write a fic? - diamond-blade

So I just saw this post (do links work in asks? It’s by orbmanson7), and now I want a Logan angst fic where the other sides literally silenced him. Or just any Logan angst, I’m not picky! - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: paralysis

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 2284

    Out of all of the ways he envisioned the argument ending, this wasn't one of them.

"Look, if we could all just get on the same page—"

"Same page? You're on a different chapter, Pocket Protector!" Roman throws his hands up. "Matter of fact, a different book! A different library!"

"There really is no need to be so dramatic."

"No—no need?" Roman splutters. "What do you think my job is?"

"It's not to be a constant nuisance!"

"I dunno," Virgil mutters, "could've fooled me."

"Oh, like you can talk!"

"Now, now, everyone—" Patton raises his hands in what is supposed to be a placating manner— "let's stop with all the name-calling and just settle down."

"Oh, I haven't even started name-calling."

"I think the point was to pre-empt any name-calling you may have done," Logan points out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

There really was no reason for this argument to spiral out of control so much. It was simply to decide whether Thomas would spend the day writing—as he had planned for the week and had already declined other weekend activities for, he had expressed multiple times that he wanted to write and in fact, missed it—or whether he would accept the invitation for coffee from someone he'd met a few days earlier.

Logan, of course, had maintained that they decline. They had plans, they had projects, ones that Roman himself had been advocating they work on.

Roman, however, being as fickle as he always is, had the prospect of romance figuratively waved under his nose and he'd been derailed faster than—well, a train derailing.

"Logan's got a point, Princey, you're the one who's been pushing for us to do the projects for like, a month." Virgil leans back against the stair rail. "You realize that this is likely the only time Logan's gonna be agreeing with you on…anything for the next year, right?"

"Logan, on average, how long does 'getting coffee' normally take?"

"Well, based on most estimates the actual act of procuring the coffee takes about five to ten minutes depending on the density of the other customers, extending to forty minutes if during peak rush hours—"

"You know what I meant."

"—but the act of 'getting coffee' in a romantic setting normally lasts at least an hour."

Roman gestures emphatically. "One hour! One hour! We can spare one hour from our busy day of writing to go and get coffee with someone."

"Interrupting your creative process has rarely shown such productivity. Additionally, it is unlikely that it will remain one hour when you account for travel time."

"Aren't you the one who's always advocating for healthy scheduling and taking breaks? I seem to recall a lengthy conversation with both you and Janus about pacing myself." Roman gestures at the door. "This is a way for me to take a break! For all of us to take a break!"

Virgil snorts. "Speak for yourself, Princey. Both you and I are gonna be on the clock."

"Plus—" Roman points at Patton— "the other day you and I were talking about how I need more inspiration! Because we decided that going on quests in the Imagination wasn't good enough, so I need new material! This is how I get new material!"

Patton falters and inwardly, Logan curses. If Roman can get Patton on his side…then the argument is as good as over.

"You also have a tendency to get distracted very easily by new things," he points out, "and it is likely that you will become so preoccupied with fantasies about this new potential suitor that you will lose all motivation or inspiration to work on these projects."

Virgil hums, pointing at him. "He's got a point."

"…he does, kiddo."

Roman makes an affronted noise, all but wilting. "Come on, this'll be good for Thomas!"

"Good for Thomas," Logan asks, "or good for you?"

"What's the difference?"

"Well," he continues, adjusting his glasses, "what's good for Thomas can also be working on these projects he's been letting sit and stagnate for almost a month now to help appease his Anxiety and maintain a consistent level of productivity."

He raises an eyebrow.

"And it allows more than one of us to take 'center stage,' if you will."

"I appreciate the theater reference, but come on, I'm asking you for an hour! Two, tops!"

"We've kinda already set this day aside for you, Roman," Patton says warily, "you—don't you think you're getting a little greedy?"

There are points, Logan has realized, where, in hindsight, he can label them as the moments where the nosedives begin. And while he will grant both Roman and himself the respect to admit they'd been somewhat antagonistic towards each other, Patton's remark had…well.

"Greedy?" Roman draws himself up. "Excuse me, what exactly am I being greedy about?"

"We have already decided this day shall be for writing. That means that you will be the one who is 'in charge,' so to speak, or at the very least your connection to Thomas will be prioritized." Logan gestures around at the others. "However, as Thomas's creative process revolves around us as well, as characters he has created and such, that means we shall also have a part to play, even if yours is disproportionate to ours."

"Okay—"

"However," Logan continues as Roman tries to interrupt him, "if you choose instead to go on this…coffee date—"

"I didn't say it was a date!" Roman holds up a proclamatory finger. "Let the record show I never said it was a date."

"That's kinda what you implied, though," Virgil muttered.

"—if you choose to go," Logan says, speaking over them, "then it will very much be a 'one-man show,' if you will, save for the occasional inputs you deign to allow the rest of us."

"Except me," Virgil adds, "you get no say in that matter."

"So, yes, Roman." Logan crosses his arms. "Trying to force an activity where you have more of a say could be considered greedy."

Roman splutters, looking back and forth as if expecting someone to deny it. When no one does, he puffs himself up and clears his throat. "I am trying to ensure Thomas gets adequate socialization and continues to meet new people! I-if anything, it's Logan who's being greedy for insisting we stick to his strict schedule!"

"Oh, god."

"Roman…"

Logan draws himself up too. "I have at least taken the time and care to make sure that everyone is content with the schedule, whereas you—"

"I"m not content with it! In case that is very much unclear—"

"—insist on blundering through things as you always do and expecting everyone else to cater to your needs—"

"—no, I am not happy with it. And you're the one who insists I have only 0.5% of any given day, were you just looking for an excuse to—"

"—without realizing that we have to work together. I understand that might be a difficult concept for you to grasp—"

"—shut me out? Oh, and here we go again, el principe es estupido, is that the only insult you have?"

"—but I assure you it is a worthwhile endeavor. Perhaps if you were capable of seeing beyond yourself—"

"I don't know how to put other people first? Why do you think I've let this project be pushed off so much, because none of you—"

"—then you might realize that the world does not, in fact, revolve around you and whatever you think is important—"

"—seem to think it's worth doing even though it's Thomas's source of income! You don't understand how hard it is to—"

"—and since you clearly cannot afford even the basic respect of listening to me and letting me speak uninterrupted, then clearly you are not capable of considering the fact that you are not—"

"Shut up!"

—worth having this argument with, is what Logan would say, or perhaps even don't tell me to shut up!

What he ends up saying is nothing.

Nothing at all.

Which is, of course, because he has been frozen.

His arms go rigid at his sides. His lungs refuse to inflate. His eyes begin to water from their inability to blink. His mouth dries up and he stands there, hangs there, freezes there as something horribly cold and deadly seeps into him.

I can't move. I can't move. I can't move.

An interesting thing about pain; pain requires functioning nerves. If you can't feel anything, then you can't feel pain. But if you can't feel pain, then you can't tell when something is wrong. And if you can't tell when something is wrong, you can't tell when it's getting worse.

Mouth open, one hand slightly raised, his weight imperfectly balanced on one leg because he'd been in the middle of shifting, Logan freezes in place. He looks at his hand and for a moment, he doesn't quite recognize that it's his hand because he can't feel it. He can't move it. He can only stare at this thing a few inches in front of him that looks like a hand that used to belong to him.

Then he remembers he can't scream.

"What the fuck did you do?"

"Logan? Logan, are you okay?"

"What the fuck did you do, Roman?"

"I don't know! I didn't—I don't know, I've never done this before!"

"Well, fucking undo it then!"

"I don't know how! I don't—don't shut up! Talk, Logan, say something! Move!"

"It's not working!"

"I can see that it's not working!"

"L, L, you gotta move, you gotta—come on, bud, you gotta."

"Un-shut up! Anti-shut up! Move again! Undo whatever I just did! I take it back!"

"That's not working either!"

"Fuck—I'm sorry, Logan! I didn't mean it, I just got angry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Roman, I swear to god, if you can't fix this—"

"Unfreeze!"

Logan gasps, sensation flooding back into his body so quickly it's almost painful. He collapses into a heap as blood rushes through him, pounding so heavily in his ears that it's almost deafening. His hands—his hands, he can move them now—scream with pain as he clenches and unclenches them, his muscles trying slowly to reacclimate to moving, to feeling, to being unfrozen.

"Easy, bud," comes Virgil's low voice, "in for five, okay? One…two…three…four…five. Good, good job. Hold now…"

He lets Virgil walk him through a breathing exercise until he can breathe normally. He looks up and nods when Virgil gives him a quiet you okay?

"Logan, kiddo? You okay, sweetheart?"

"Yes…yes, I think so."

"Go slow, okay," Virgil warns as he starts to stand up again, "you just gotta go slow."

Standing is…challenging, but he manages. The whole ordeal had lasted barely a minute and now that he's able to move again, the panic fades and he can start to function once more. He takes a few more deep breaths to steady himself before he looks around.

Patton is hovering, concern written plainly all over his face. Virgil is next to him, there if he needs to grab onto his shoulder or sink out. Roman is—

Roman is standing on the other side of the room, his hands held over his mouth in horror. There are tears on his face.

"I'm sorry, Logan," he whispers, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, I didn't even know I could do that, I—are you okay?"

"Yes," and surprisingly, he is, "I'm alright now. I would…appreciate if that didn't happen again."

"No, no, of course, I won't—I won't do it again. I promise."

"Thank you."

Roman nods, his hands finally moving away from his face. He swallows and draws himself up, although this time it's far more similar to a child trying to save face than an arrogant prince. "I, um…we can…I'll be ready to write on Saturday."

"That would be great, thank you."

"Do you…need or want anything else right now?"

He pauses, considering, before slowly reaching out for him. Roman balks, confusion and fear warring on his features before he slowly crosses the room to let Logan grab onto him.

"You're the warmest," Logan mumbles, lurching forward to hug him—only it ends up being more like leaning his entire weight on Roman while Roman holds him up— "I'm still cold."

"Oh, of—of course." Roman wraps his arms carefully around him and Logan hums. "Would—do you want to sit on the couch?"

"Mm."

"…was that a 'yes?'"

"Yes."

Roman helps him carefully over to the couch as Virgil and Patton pull out the coffee table to make room for everyone's limbs. Logan turns his face against Roman's shoulder and closes his eyes.

"I'm going to sleep here now."

"Okay." Roman adjusts his grip so he won't get a strain in his neck. "I really am sorry, Logan."

"I know." He blinks up at him. "We can't do Saturday, but maybe…we may be able to do Sunday?"

Roman smiles. "We can talk about it later. You should sleep now."

And so he does.

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[lilyvandersteen]

Home Away From Home Chapter 2: Charming

Chapter summary:

Blaine arrives in Ohio and starts to tackle the disaster zone that is Cooper's hotel. But after he's been there for just a week, inspectors arrive at the hotel. Can he convince them to give him extra time to fix things?

Many thanks to my beta @hkvoyage!

You can also read this story on AO3.

~~~~~~

Chapter 2: Charming

 It didn’t take long for Monique to call Blaine back, and the news she had for him wasn’t all bad. The property’s title was in Cooper’s name. There would be no problems on that score.

“And it’s quite a bit bigger than just the hotel. The sale also involved 500 acres of land. That’s a lot. Not around the hotel, it’s further away. It used to be an industrial area. Factory buildings that haven’t been used since the eighties or nineties at the latest. Might have squatters in them, though. Lot of poverty and crime in that area. Not really the ideal place to buy a hotel. I don’t know what Cooper was thinking.”

Blaine snorted. “I doubt he was thinking at all. Anyway, thanks a bunch, Monique!”

“Are you sure you want to go to the trouble of doing up the place?”

Monique sounded worried.

“Well, Cooper put a lot of money into this, so we’ll have to make the most of it. It’s right next to Interstate 75, so I’m sure there will always be travellers needing a place to sleep. Right?”

Monique tut-tutted. “Don’t throw good money after bad, Blaine. I doubt you’d be able to make the place profitable. I’d advise to sell it again, for the best price you can get for it, and cut your losses. Mind you, it won’t be easy to sell, what with the neighbourhood it’s in. My hubby and I passed through Lima on a road trip a few years back. I’d rather have driven on for another eight hours than sleep there. You should have seen the trailer park we drove through, and all the boarded-up buildings – it looked eerie.”

“Maybe things have improved since then,” Blaine said. “But here’s what I’ll do: I’ll ask Cooper if he wants to sell or not. It would help if you could e-mail me an estimate of what the renovations would cost. If he decides not to sell, I’ll tell him to make you an authorized signatory on his bank account, so that you can buy stuff for the hotel in his name, and pay the renovation bills and the staff’s salaries, including my own if I’m to spend my whole summer running Coop’s hotel. Is that okay with you, Monique?”

Monique sighed. “There’s no talking you out of it anymore, is there? All right, lovey, I’ll send you that estimate for the renovations, and if you decide to go through with this, I’ll help you as much as I can. I already have my eye on a lot of beds and mattresses. If I can get a nice price for them, I’ll send them to Lima asap.”

“You won’t get into trouble over this with Father, will you?”

“Nah, he trusts me blindly, after all these years. And you’re his sons, so when I’m working for you, it all stays in the family.”

“I’m not sure he considers me family anymore,” Blaine muttered, but that made Monique scoff.

“You’re his child, Blaine, and you always will be, and I’m as loyal to you as I am to Mr. Anderson himself.”

Blaine wiped away a tear and thanked Monique again. “Anyway, my roommate grew up there, and she’ll help me out, she says. I will contact Cooper, and I’ll let you know what he’s decided. Okay?”

“Okay. Talk to you soon!”

K&B

The day after, Blaine and Tina flew to Columbus, Ohio.

Cooper didn’t want to sell and had given green light to renovate the hotel.

Thankfully, however stupid Cooper was where money matters were concerned, his entourage was not. His agent and manager were competent and shrewd, and made sure he got paid well for every project he did. He’d spent the bulk of his money on the property he’d bought, yes, but there was still enough left to get started on the renovations, and more money was on the way for several ads he’d done, as well as some voice-over work.

“You tell Monique she can use it all. I trust her, and I trust you.”

As soon as Blaine had gotten the okay, he’d contacted the pest control firm as well as an electrician and a plumber recommended by Monique. Then he booked his flight and started packing.

Tina remained determined to come along, and she’d called all her high school friends to see who was in the area and who would be willing to help out. Two girls called Marley and Unique promised to drop in and help as soon as the weekend rolled around, and a guy called Puck said they could count on him for handyman jobs.

A good thing, too, for as soon as they walked into the hotel, they found out they might not be able to count on the existing staff.

A group of uniformed people were surrounding a guy in a suit, yelling at him about months of wages he owed him, about horrid work conditions, about being understaffed and having to work double shifts, and about being harassed by unhappy guests.

“And if you think I’m going to stick around to see if this new owner is gonna treat us better than you, think again! I’m out of here, and I’m gonna ask if I can have my old job at the Lima Bean back.”

There were a lot of yeahs in response to that, and muttering that they could do better, and then everyone took off their name badges, threw them at the guy in the suit and walked off, straight past Blaine and Tina.

The guy in the suit just shrugged and walked in the other direction, without so much as looking at the stuff his former staff had chucked at him.

“I know some of them, I’ll smooth things over,” Tina whispered to Blaine. ”You go talk to the manager guy.”

Blaine hurried after the guy in the suit, guessing that this had to be the one Cooper had bought the property from.

“Mr. Smythe?”

“What now?” said the guy in the suit, turning around and scowling.

“I’m Blaine Anderson, sir. I’m here on behalf of my brother, Cooper Anderson…”

“Ah, Cooper’s little brother! Yeah, he told me you’d come and sort things out here for him.”

Smythe smirked at Blaine, giving him a lingering once-over. “Guess he got the looks and you got the brains in your family. Not everyone can have it all, like me. Looks and brains and money. But don’t worry. I’m sure some people are into the bashful schoolboy vibe you give off. Plus, you’ve got a great ass. Very nice. I wouldn’t say no to a quickie, if you’re game.”

Charming. Not.

Blaine felt his ears redden, but kept his response formal and to the point. “I’d like the keys to this establishment, please, as well as to the factory buildings you also sold to my brother. The insurance information would be welcome, too. And I need to know who’s been managing this hotel until now. I’ve been informed the factory buildings are not in use, is that correct?”

“That is correct, killer,” Smythe drawled. “Come with me and I’ll give you the keys.”

Blaine shot a desperate look behind him, but Tina had caught up with the hotel staff and was talking to them, so he wouldn’t be able to use her as a buffer from this sleaze. Ugh.

It took a quarter of an hour and plenty more innuendoes before Blaine got the keys and the information he’d requested, and Smythe made Blaine very uncomfortable, touching Blaine any chance he got and staring at his lips, crotch and ass without even being subtle about it.

Finally, with one last smirk and a “Good luck”, Smythe departed.

Blaine let out a deep sigh and got up to find Tina and get an update on the staff situation.

He heard someone laugh, and looked up to see Tina in the doorway with the Latina staff member who’d been yelling at Smythe when they came in.

“Smythe takes the word eye-fucking to a new level, doesn’t he?” she drawled.

Blaine shuddered, and she laughed some more, Tina joining in too.

“He’s good-looking, though. You sure you don’t want to tap that?” Tina teased him.

“I’m sure,” Blaine gritted out, taking his laptop to send the insurance information to Monique.

Tina introduced the staff member to Blaine. Her name was Santana, and she’d been in high school with Tina.

“I sounded her out on what staff members to keep; and what others we need to recruit. And I promised you’d pay them the back wages Smythe owes them.”

Blaine nodded. “Of course.”

Santana took him to see the rest of the staff and told him their names and what each of them did to keep the hotel running.

When they heard Blaine was willing to make up their back pay and hire extra staff, all of them readily agreed to stay on, and they even suggested family members of theirs who could come and work at the hotel.

That was one worry down.

“So what’s next?” Tina asked.

What was next was the electrician and plumber showing up to tour the whole building with Blaine, and give their professional assessment of what had to be done.

Blaine followed in their wake, jotting down everything they mentioned to compile a to do list and starting to panic the longer the list got.

“This is going to take longer than our summer break,” Tina whispered.

“I know. We’ll do what we can, and the rest will be Cooper’s responsibility.”

Fat chance of that, Blaine thought sourly. It was way more likely that Cooper would wait for Blaine to finish the work he started once his next school break rolled around. No, Blaine had better hire a manager for the hotel before he left, so that he could leave the place in good hands.

While touring the place, Blaine also found out there was a family of five, the Evanses, living in a hotel room permanently, for now, because they’d lost their jobs and consequently their house, too.

“The previous manager gave us a hefty discount,” said Mrs. Evans, wringing her hands.

Mr. Smythe hadn’t mentioned anything about this, but Blaine nodded. “No problem. No problem at all. We will be renovating the hotel, though, so it’s possible you will have to move to another room at some point. But we will honour the agreement you had with Mr. Smythe, absolutely, please don’t worry about that.”

“Maybe we can help with the renovations?” said Mr. Evans. “My eldest son Sam has a job as a bike courier, but that’s mostly in the evening. During the day, he and I can help you spruce up this place.”

Blaine smiled at the man. “That would be a tremendous help.”

“I could help with the cleaning,” Mrs. Evans offered, “and I’ll make sure Stevie and Stacey stay out of your way.”

When they went on to the next room, the plumber whispered to Blaine that it was sad, really, that the Evanses had come to this. “They worked at that chemical plant that closed down. They’re such great, stand-up people. And now because they both got laid off, they’ve lost everything, and they need to rely on charity to get by. Most people who get laid off here are taken in by family, but the Evanses are from Kentucky. They don’t have any family here. And the children want to stay here in Ohio because all their friends are here, but the parents are struggling to find a decent job. It’s so sad.”

After the tradesmen had left, Blaine let out a deep sigh.

Apart from technical stuff, he’d also noticed lots of trash, dust, grime and filth.

“This place needs a deep clean,” he sighed.

“True, that, and we need to do something about the smell, too,” said Tina, wrinkling her nose.

She was right about that. The hotel smelled stale and musty because none of the air conditioning units seemed to work.

The HVAC specialist Blaine had contacted hadn’t been able to come straight away, so they’d have to have some patience.

In the meantime, all Blaine could do was keep as many doors open as possible, including the outside doors, to get some fresh air circulating.

“Cleaning party?” Tina asked, waving her phone at him, which was showing her dance playlist.

Blaine grinned and nodded.

“I’ll go fetch Santana and the other housekeepers,” Tina said. “There’s only three of them, can you imagine? For a hotel this big! How many rooms are there exactly?”

“114 rooms and suites. Yes, no wonder the rooms aren’t clean, they must have been rushed off their feet doing the bare minimum. Let me get Mrs. Evans, too. She promised to help us out with the cleaning.”

The six of them teamed up and managed to give about a dozen rooms a thorough cleaning.

Then Santana looked at her watch and said her shift was over. She and her colleagues Zoey and Kaylee went home, promising to come back the next day.

“Let’s continue cleaning for a bit longer,” Mrs. Evans said. “We won’t be able to get all the rooms done, but the more we can do the better.”

Blaine kept the receptionist updated on which rooms they’d tackled so far, so that when a new guest was sent up, Blaine could show them to a sparkling clean room.

When Blaine’s stomach began to growl, he ended the cleaning party and announced that it was dinner time.

“What do you usually do for dinner?” he asked Mrs. Evans, and she said they normally had Sam pick up some take-out.

“Would you and your family have dinner with Tina and me?” Blaine asked. “We’ll make something quick here in the kitchen. Maybe stir-fry?”

She smiled at him and said that would be lovely.

“Let’s check what’s in stock in the kitchen and then go grocery-shopping,” Tina said to Blaine. “Santana said the cook had walked out before we arrived, and that he wasn’t any good anyway, so we’ll have to hire a new one. Until we’ve found a cook, we’ll need to prepare the breakfast buffet for our guests ourselves. Nothing too fancy. Orange juice, coffee, rolls and scrambled eggs and bacon, that sort of thing. I’ve asked Santana what we need to serve, and where it’s normally bought. And we can buy supplies to make ourselves dinner. Thank heavens the electrical appliances in the kitchen all seem okay, according to Jim. I can’t live without an oven and a refrigerator.”

Blaine checked the provisions and drew up a shopping list.

“Let’s also bake some cookies to get a better smell circulating here,” Tina suggested. “Chocolate chip!”

“Chocolate chip it is!”

As they went out, Blaine told Jayden, the front desk clerk, that he’d be gone for a while, and would Jayden hold the fort in the meantime? The guy scowled. No doubt he’d been hoping to go home. It was getting late, and he had to be hungry too. But Jayden was the only front desk clerk Blaine had at the moment, so he’d have to stick it out a little longer.

Blaine resolved to be as quick as possible with the shopping.

When he and Tina came back, both carrying overflowing grocery bags, a loud voice berated them as soon as they came near.

“This hotel is the WORST I’ve ever been to! I’ve got a reservation for tonight, and I can’t even check in! There’s nobody at the desk and when I ring the bell, nobody comes. And don’t think I’m the only one! You’ve missed out on at least five customers while you were away!”

And yes, there was no-one behind the front desk. It seemed Jayden had not waited for Blaine to return and had left his post and gone home. Probably seconds after Blaine’s car left the parking lot. Ah well.

Blaine hurried to get behind the desk and check the girl in. She looked no older than he was, but stylish and sophisticated, and he wondered why on earth she’d be staying in this run-down hotel in the middle of nowhere.

He checked the reservations spreadsheet on his laptop, and yes, her name was on it. Harmony Brentwood.

“I apologise, Miss Brentwood,” Blaine told the girl. “My brother has only just bought this hotel, and we’re short-staffed. I hope you don’t mind waiting in the lounge area while we prepare a room for you, and I hope you will join us for dinner, on the house, to make up for any inconvenience.”

Miss Brentwood’s chin went up. “No, thank you. I’m going to eat at my grandma’s. I just want to leave my luggage here and get the key to my room. You can expect me back around eight thirty. Make sure my room is ready by then.”

“Certainly, Ma’am.”

Blaine handed Miss Brentwood a key, jotting down the room number in his spreadsheet, and grimaced as she left the hotel, still clearly displeased.

“We’re not making a good impression on our customers.”

Tina shrugged. “We’ll have a grand re-opening once the renovations are complete, and invite the local press. That should help.”

A while later, they were eating stir fry with the Evanses. The chocolate chip cookies were just out of the oven, and Stevie and Stacey were sniffing the cookie smell appreciatively.

“Much better, huh?” said Tina. “We’ve made good progress already. Thank you for your help, Mrs. Evans. I’m sure you’re just as glad as I am that your room has been cleaned thoroughly for a change. And we managed to do enough rooms from top to bottom to offer each of our guests a clean place to stay. Plus one extra for Blaine and I to sleep in. Thank heavens we bought those towels and sheets that were on sale at Walmart. The ones that were in the rooms were dingy, ugh. And we’ve gotten the trash out of all the rooms and put some cleaner in every toilet, sink and shower to let it soak. That’s a good start.”

Blaine hummed in agreement, too exhausted to speak. They’d not only cleaned rooms, but also the reception and the lounge.

While making the stir-fry, he’d resolved to get started on the kitchen the following day.

The state of the kitchen was horrendous – no wonder the guests had mentioned mice!

It needed a good scrubbing until all the stickiness was gone from the counters and the floors. They would also have to clean out the grubby fridge and oven and wash all the cooking utensils thoroughly, until they were spotless.

Recruiting more staff was on the agenda for the next day too. He needed more staff, and that really couldn’t wait if he wanted the hotel to run like clockwork.

After finishing the stir fry and having two cookies each, they put the rest of the cookies in a plastic container, washed up their plates and cutlery and wished each other good night.

Blaine and Tina headed to the room they’d assigned for their own personal use.

“Do you think Harmony has arrived yet?” Tina asked.

As they approached their room, the question was answered by loud singing further down the hall.

“I think Miss Brentwood’s in her room, yes,” said Blaine. “I really hope she doesn’t plan on singing long. My head aches enough as it is.”

“So what’s your plan for tomorrow?” Tina wanted to know.

“Recruiting staff. Apart from that, it’s going to be cleaning again. This place needs it.”

K & B

The next morning, Blaine woke up early, slipped into his clothes without waking Tina and went downstairs to prepare the breakfast buffet for the hotel guests plus Tina and himself.

Most guests that turned up in the dining room ate the breakfast he provided happily enough, but Miss Brentwood turned up her nose again for his cooking, requesting only hot water with lemon.

She thawed out, though, when she inquired at check-out who the new owner was, and Blaine told her it was his brother, Cooper Anderson.

“Cooper Anderson? The actor?”

“Yes, Miss Brentwood.”

“So he might show up here any moment?”

“Well, not any moment,” Blaine hedged, “seeing as he’s in New Zealand right now, for…”

“Oh, yes, I know! I so look forward to seeing him play in Dragons and Rings!” Miss Brentwood squealed, all smiles now, and she winked at Blaine. “Tell you what, if you give me a heads-up when Cooper arrives here, I’ll give you a good Yelp review.”

Blaine, who knew Cooper enjoyed being fawned over, readily agreed to that, and added her e-mail address to his spreadsheet.

Blaine spent most of the day interviewing job candidates, sent his way by the existing staff and by all the temporary employment agencies he’d contacted in the area. The very first people he recruited were Mrs. Evans as the head of housekeeping and Mr. Evans as the maintenance manager.

Mrs. Evans teamed up with the housekeepers and Tina again to give the kitchen and the rest of the rooms a thorough scrubbing.

Though Blaine had been afraid Jayden would not show up anymore after having to work such long hours the day before, the clerk was back at the front desk by nine a.m.

Blaine made sure to recruit more hospitality staff so that they could work in shifts from now on.

In the afternoon, Tina’s friends Marley and Unique showed up. Marley was accompanied by her mother, who wished to apply for the job of hotel cook.

“My name’s Millie, sir, Millie Rose. I can’t do any fancy cooking, but I gather it’s just breakfast you need here. I can do breakfast.”

“The hours are early, though,” Blaine warned Mrs. Rose. “You will be expected here at five o’clock in the morning, seeing as breakfast is served from six until ten.”

“Those hours are perfect! I’m an early riser anyway, and I work as a lunch lady at the McKinley High School, where I’m expected at eleven.”

Blaine pursed his lips. “The kitchen staff will be expected to tidy and clean the dining room and the kitchen as soon as the breakfast buffet is closed. You will have help, of course, I’ll hire a few bussers, but…”

“Oh, no worries, sir, I won’t leave before everything’s sparkling clean. I’ve got time enough. The school is only five minutes from here, so even if the last guests don’t finish their breakfast ‘till after ten, I’ll still have enough time to clean up after them.”

Millie smiled at Blaine with hope in her eyes, and Blaine nodded. “Welcome to the team, Mrs. Rose!”

K&B

After a week, the first shipment arrived of what Monique had managed to buy for the hotel: beds and mattresses. The entire hotel team helped unpacking the shipment, and after that some of the male staff, supervised by Mr. Evans, started taking apart the old beds and assembling the new ones.

Monique had called ahead and apologised that the lot she’d bought wouldn’t be enough for all the rooms, but Blaine was very pleased nonetheless, and thanked her with a lot of gushing.

He’d been sleeping on one of the old mattresses, and now his back was aching worse than it ever had. So even one new mattress would have been welcome, and she’d sent enough of them for at least half the rooms. Seeing as the hotel wasn’t exactly overflowing with guests, that would be enough for the moment being.

Mrs. Evans was happy as well, telling Blaine that even Stevie and Stacey had complained about back pain. “And these new beds look so comfy, and they don’t creak at all. I think we’ll all sleep a lot better tonight!”

While having a quick lunch, Blaine went over his checklist.

All the rooms were clean now – check!

The rooms that were in use had new beds, new mattresses, new bedding and new towels -check!

The reception and lounge were tidy and clean – check!

The kitchen and everything in it was clean – check!

The pantry, fridge and freezer were stocked – check!

He halted at the next item. “Provide ramps for wheelchairs and strollers.”

Right. That was definitely something he needed to do as soon as possible. And he needed to look into making some of the rooms on the ground floor accessible for people with mobility issues.

He spent the rest of his lunch break researching and then called Monique for advice on where to get ramps, automatic door and blinds openers as well as grab bars for the toilet and the shower.

She promised to order all of those for him with next-day delivery. “No skimping on that, it’s too important. Are you doing all right otherwise?”

“So far, we are, yes. Thanks for all your help, Monique!”

A bit later, the pest control firm arrived, and Blaine had to warn the Evanses that they would have to leave their room for a bit so that it could be fumigated.

Blaine was replacing a lightbulb in the lounge, humming along with Sam, who was playing the guitar and singing to entertain his younger siblings, when he saw a van arrive in the parking lot. Minutes later, two men headed towards the hotel. One of them was in a wheelchair.

“Sam, go find a few sturdy planks from the old beds please, we need a wheelchair ramp!” Blaine yelled.

Sam was back in a jiffy, carrying the planks with his dad, and Blaine helped them create a makeshift ramp.

It did the job, though the man in a wheelchair told them they needed a permanent ramp.

Blaine was so glad he could tell the guy they would have a real ramp the next day.

He forgot all about that, though, when he asked if they had made a reservation, and the answer was that they were inspectors. The one in the wheelchair was called Inspector Abrams, and the other, who was tall, stunning and sharply dressed, introduced himself as Inspector Hummel.

Wow. We’ve only been here a week and we’re already being inspected? That’s not good. There’s still so much to be done!

Inspector Hummel asked after Smythe. Clearly, no-one had informed them the hotel had changed ownership, so Blaine hastened to tell them his brother owned it now, and that they were in full renovation mode, sending the inspector his most charming smile, and hurrying to fetch the documents he requested.

The charm offensive did not work. Inspector Hummel frowned at him, a frown that only deepened when Tina turned up and happened to know Inspector Abrams from high school.

She spent some time chatting with him, which led to Inspector Abrams offering them more time to fix up the place.

Inspector Hummel looked like thunder by now. His jaw was set, and Blaine couldn’t help but admire the classic beauty of his profile – like a marble statue.

The two inspectors argued, and Blaine was quick to point out issues he’d already solved so as to tilt the scale in favour of him getting extra time.

The stakes were high, that much was clear.

From the argument between the inspectors, Blaine learned that they’d come to inspect this hotel several times, and that Smythe had made promises he’d never delivered on so as to get them off his back. And this was supposed to have been the final inspection, and if anything wasn’t in order, the hotel licence would be revoked.

Wow. No wonder Smythe wanted to offload the hotel. Bastard.

Inspector Hummel didn’t want to grant them any more time, fearing that Blaine was going to back out of his promises too.

Tina was quick to defend Blaine, and in the end, that must have helped.

Inspector Hummel agreed to give them more time. There were two conditions, though. Blaine would receive a list of issues from the inspectors, and had to solve each and every one. And the inspectors would come back every fortnight to check up on his progress.

Well, that was no more than Blaine had expected, and that list would be handy to have, so he readily agreed to those terms, and gave the inspectors his contact information, promising to keep them in the loop.

He was thankful to have averted the crisis of losing the hotel licence.

For now, yes, but Inspector Abrams was friendly enough, and Inspector Hummel, well… He’d win him over too, Blaine vowed to himself. He would put the inspector’s fears to rest by improving the hotel in every way he could.

He watched the inspectors leave, enjoying the back view Inspector Hummel provided, and looking forward to seeing the gorgeous man again.

However handsome the inspector looked when he was angry, Blaine was determined to get into his good graces.

I bet with a smile he looks even more stunning!

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

Summary:  Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM. 

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V /  Part VI /  Part VII /  Part VIII  / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

Almost two months after moving out of Beck’s place, Peter was able to rent an apartment in the same building as Ned and MJ. It was tiny, of course, but pretty inexpensive, compared to other options he found around that area. Besides, with the money he made with Just4Fans over those few weeks, he would be able to afford it comfortably for at least a few months – largely thanks to YKWIM. He still planned on saving up as much as possible, so he put a lot of effort into making his account grow and it was working – by the end of April, he was up to five hundred subscribers.

He didn’t check to see what Beck was doing, he was too afraid to look and see him with his new boyfriend, but he got lots of comments from his old fans, who still followed Beck, telling him that the new boy had nothing on him. Again, he didn’t dare to check, but the ego boost was nice, even if he didn’t really believe them. Also, he was down to crying once every two days instead of every other day, so he was counting that as a win as well.

His apartment was still pretty empty, specially because he spent most of his time downstairs at his friends’ place, but he decorated the bathroom and his room to the best of his ability, since they would be the background of pretty much all his videos and pictures. He also bought some new lingerie sets, a few costumes and sex toys he wasn’t even sure how to use, but he was slowly figuring them out.

Aside from decorating his room and the bathroom, he also bought an armchair and placed it by the  window with a couple of pillows. It was a nice spot to spend the afternoon reading or working on his computer. The light in that apartment was great, sunlight streamed right into his living room and warmed it up nicely. As they approached the end of April, the weather was getting better everyday.

Some days, he felt happy. He felt okay with the fact that he was still doing porn and that it wasn’t a terrible crime. Sure, it wasn’t what he had planned to do with his life, but he was young, he would eventually figure things out. For the time being, he needed that gig and he couldn’t beat himself up for it. Also, it wasn’t so bad now that he was only doing solo stuff.

Some other days, though, were just – hard. He remembered all the videos that were still online and he felt awful for the sole reason that they existed. Not so much for the ones he filmed with Beck, he was somewhat okay with those, the guy was his boyfriend after all, they had sex anyway, the only difference was the camera in the room. But the other ones…

When he started filming with other men, it quickly turned into an unpleasant experience for him. He hated every second of it and always ended up feeling guilty, used and disposable at the end of the day. Beck didn’t make it any better with the way he looked at him afterwards as he told him to get in the shower.

He wasn’t entirely sure of the reasons why those videos bothered him so much, sometimes it felt like it wasn’t even him in them. It was like he was watching a different person, he looked at himself and felt completely dissociated from that boy – at the same time, he looked at him and he knew – he knew – exactly what he was feeling when those were shot.

But that was a lot to unpack and he just wasn’t ready for that particular crisis.  

So in short, sometimes he was still a little unsure about how long he would be able to keep his Just4Fans account, because even though most days he didn’t feel too weird about it, sometimes it reminded him of things he preferred to forget. But that was fine, he was usually able to work around that. Also, most of his subscribers were great and didn’t make him feel like a cheap whore, so he had that going for him as well.

YKWIM was one of the good ones. They chatted almost daily, and Peter always sent him exclusive pictures and videos just because. He never posted those pictures on his feed once he sent them to him, it was their little secret. In return, he got his own collection of short videos of YKWIM finishing himself off. He didn’t know much about the person behind the videos, he’d taken to calling him daddy because most of his subscribers seemed to like it and YKWIM never complained, so it stuck.

Peter did know he lived in New York – which made him shiver – and that he was a businessman of some kind, but he also always talked about a workshop, so Peter wasn’t sure and he avoided asking personal questions. He worked most of the day and into the night, they usually talked when it was late, always around two in the morning.

He traveled a lot, too, and sometimes sent Peter small clips of his hotel rooms or the view from his balcony. In return, Peter sent him pictures of his messy bedroom and the horrible view from his window as a joke. It was nice talking to him, he always made Peter laugh – and then it often ended with a very satisfying orgasm that put him right to sleep, which was awesome.

Peter estimated YKWIM was older than Beck, but not by too much. He clearly had a fit body, which at first led him to believe he was in his thirties, at most; but he noticed YKWIM sometimes talked about the 80’s like he lived them, so he had to be at least in his forties, but Peter couldn’t be sure. He really wished he would show his face, though, it would be nice to have one to fantasize about. But then again, maybe it would ruin the whole thing.

One afternoon, after Peter spent hours taking pictures, shooting videos and editing them so he could post them over the following week, he got a message from YKWIM. He hurried to check it and was shocked to see that he had sent him yet another tip – forty thousand dollars this time.

“For you to buy pretty things so you can show them off to me.” Said the message that came with the money.

Peter almost dropped his phone when he saw it. It had been only five weeks since his last insane tip, so that made fifty thousand dollars in just a little over a month. For, like, thirty nudes. Who even was that guy?

“Wow, daddy, that’s way too much!” He added a flushed face emoji, for lack of something better to say. He was honestly feeling a little overwhelmed, even if the guy had millions to spend, there was no way just giving someone that amount of money was normal.

“That’s not nearly enough for what you’ve given me, baby.” Peter’s cheeks burned.

“I’m very flattered, but please, I really don’t think I deserve all this.” He was pretty sure he sounded pathetic, but that was how he felt, so. Yeah.

“Oh, but you do. Trust me, you really, really do. You’re worth every penny.” Peter bit his lower lip, a little unsure and still a little shocked.

“At least tell me what you’d like to see from me, please. Do you have any kinks that you’d like me to perform? Don’t be shy.” He asked, even though it always made him nervous to offer that kind of thing. Sometimes people were just waiting for the perfect opportunity to make the weirdest requests.

But, to be fair, he had been talking to YKWIM for over a month, so he somewhat trusted him not to ask for anything too absurd.  And then again, the guy had just paid him forty thousand dollars.

“Well, if you insist...” Here it comes, Peter thought, bracing himself. “Red and gold are my favorite colors. I’d love to see you wearing them.” Oh. Not what he was expecting at all.

“Done! Anything else? Come on, there’s gotta be something else.” Again, risky move. But again, forty thousand dollars.

“I’d love to hear you. You’re always so quiet in your videos. If you feel comfortable, I’d love to hear you call my name.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at that request. It sounded… almost sweet? It obviously wasn’t meant like that, it was completely sexual, but out of all the wild things he could have asked for, he wanted to hear Peter call his name.

“What’s your name, daddy?”

“Tony.” Tony. Peter tested the word out on his tongue, saying it out loud once, twice. Tony. It suited the image he had created in his head. Tony.

“I can definitely do that, Tony. Anything else?”

“Buy yourself something pretty and send me a picture wearing it. Nothing sexual. Something you’d wear to a date with me.” Peter’s breath hitched. He supposed it was probably just a weird, rich people kink or something, but his mind went wild anyway. Very, very wild.

“I don’t know what I’d wear to a date with you, daddy. Any advice?”

“I like expensive and beautiful things such as yourself, baby.”

Normally, Peter wouldn’t appreciate being called expensive, like he was a thing to be bought, but he felt weirdly flattered by the answer. He promised YKW – Tony – he would send everything he requested over the next few days, and he was actually excited about the whole thing. And of course he knew that feeling was trouble, there were warning signs flashing like crazy before his eyes, but he ignored them and convinced himself that he was just having fun and he was allowed to have fun if he was going to keep doing porn. He didn’t have to feel miserable and guilty all the fucking time. He could – and should! – take some pleasure from it. He deserved it.

So the following day he asked MJ to go shopping with him, but he still didn’t tell her the whole story, he just said it was for his Just4Fans and she readily agreed to go. They went to Victoria’s Secret and Peter told her what he had in mind.

“So, how’s the job going? You’re doing okay? Not too overwhelmed?” She asked coolly as they searched through the panties section.

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s different when I’m in control, you know? Like, I know my limits and I don’t need to count on other people to respect them. Well, most of the time. So it’s cool.”

Some subscribers were a little pushy sometimes, asking for things Peter wasn’t willing to do and then getting really aggressive after being told no. But it didn’t affect him as much as it did when Beck ignored his boundaries, because those pushy subscribers could be easily blocked, whereas with Beck, well. It was a different story.

“Don’t ever feel like you need to push your limits, okay?” Michelle stopped what she was doing to grab him by the shoulders and force him to look at her. “If you ever feel like stopping, for whatever reason, just do it. No matter what, you’ll always have me and Ned, understand? We’re family, we’re here for you, we’d never leave you alone. If you want to stop, we’ll figure something out together, you hear me?” The way she looked into his eyes made him understand that she really meant every single word of it.

Family. He had a family with them.

Peter felt silly tearing up in the middle of Victoria’s Secret, so he pulled her into his arms and hid his face in her neck.

“Thank you. I needed to hear that,” he muttered, as she squeezed him a little tighter, before pushing him away.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all teary-eyed on me, come on, you’ll ruin my reputation.” She looked around, sniffing, then stuck her hands in her pockets. Peter laughed halfheartedly, drying the corner of his eyes. “C’mon, there are panties to be bought.”

They spent a couple of hours searching the store, but in the end he found the perfect set. He bought some other pieces, too, for his feed, people had been asking for lingerie a lot lately, after a slightly weird phase of cat ears and tails. Once they left Victoria’s Secret, Peter was nervous because he had to tell MJ at least part of the truth to get her help with the second part of Tony’s request.

“So, listen,” he started and she turned to him, happily sipping her large coffee as they walked down the street. “I have this subscriber. He’s, like, a rich, old dude who always sends me tips and stuff. Anyway, he gave me some money and asked me to buy something nice and pose for him, but like, not in a sexual way. He wants to see me clothed.” She frowned, staring at him suspiciously. “Um. I was wondering if you could help me with that?”

She was silent for a few seconds, just looking at him with narrowed eyes. He looked away discreetly, trying to avoid her mind-reading skills.

“Should I be worried?” She asked, finally. He shook his head and chuckled nervously, waving a hand dismissively.

“He’s harmless, just some lonely, old dude. So, will you help?” He looked at her expectantly. She was still frowning and definitely knew something was up, but she nodded anyway, to Peter’s relief.

“What do you have in mind?” MJ asked and resumed her stroll down the street, Peter had to jog a little to keep up.

“Something expensive and beautiful,” He quoted Tony, like an idiot, because he honestly had no idea what that meant.

“That’s oddly specific and somehow not helpful at all.” She lifted an eyebrow and looked around the busy street. “How expensive are we talking about?”

“I’m not sure. Very?” He answered nervously, and, yet again, she looked looked like she wanted to rip the truth out of him, but she also knew that was not the way to go with him.  

“How much did this guy give you?”

“Um. for – five thousand dollars.” He stuttered. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the actual amount, because it sounded absolutely insane and she would worry unnecessarily.

“Holy shit!? Fuck, why aren’t I doing porn?!” She screeched and Peter hurried to put his hands over her mouth, because at least three people turned around to look at them.

“Don’t even joke about that, you hear me? You have a bright future ahead of you, don’t fuck it up,” he told her seriously and she looked like she wanted to argue just for the sake of being annoying, but something in the way he looked at her must have made her realize he meant it.

“Chill, I’m joking.” She patted his shoulder and looked away. “So. Five thousand dollars? We can work with that.”

He was a little scared of the weird gleam in her eyes, but followed her anyway.

They spent the rest of the afternoon shopping, it was a lot of fun and he even got her a pair of shoes she kept staring longingly at. She was worried they would go over the budget because she wanted him to save some of the money, but he assured her he could afford it. They managed to put together a great outfit that he was very confident about and then called Ned to meet them for dinner in the evening.

Later, they took the subway home and, for a while, he felt like a normal 20-year-old guy – happy, weightless and just a little heartbroken, like everyone was bound to be at some point in life. He was going to be okay, he realized. That thought hit him like a punch in the face and it felt fucking awesome.

He rested his head on Ned’s shoulder with a sigh of relief, feeling the warmth of MJ’s hand on his thigh.

It was around midnight when he got home, which for him was still a little early, he had developed the terrible habit of going to bed well after two in the morning – he blamed Tony, but to be fair, many of his subscribers were mostly active around that time as well. He debated whether or not he should start working on Tony’s requests, he was a little tired from a long day of walking around carrying bags, but also surprisingly eager to show the older man what he got for him.

He took the Victoria’s Secret bag and displayed the new outfit on the bed. It was a simple, but beautiful lingerie set. What Peter loved most about it was the fabric – it was made of deep red satin, smooth and glossy, and it felt simply amazing on the skin.

He decided to try it on, just to make sure it fit properly.

The top was a delicate bralette, two little triangles only big enough to hide his nipples and a little bit of his pecs. It was the perfect size for him, it sat flush with his skin, no unflattering cup gaps. The panties were tiny, Peter wasn’t too sure about those back in the store, he was worried not everything would fit in it. It did, but just barely, but it actually worked in his favor, in his humble opinion. Lastly, he put on the garter belt, which was just a thin piece of fabric that went around his waist, with two straps that hung down to clasp onto two elastic bands that went around his thighs.

Since Tony said red and gold, he also put on a thick, golden choker, just to see how it would look.

Once he was dressed, he went to check in the mirror. He bit his lower lip, running his hand over the fabric that covered his chest. It felt really smooth, and the way it brushed against his nipples sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes and imagined it was Tony’s hands on his body. They looked strong enough to hurt, but he imagined they would be gentle with him, as they traced a path from his collarbone to his neck, to wrap themselves around his throat – but not tight enough to choke him, just a promise.

He sighed, as if to check that he could still breath under the pressure, and slowly slid his hands down from his neck, brushing his hard nipples on their way down to the front of the panties – God, it was so smooth...

For some reason, he imagined Tony would be a gentle lover. Maybe it was the way he talked to him, always so charming, all sweetheart and baby, all praise and compliments. Maybe it was the way he never demanded anything, only asked nicely, all please and thank you.  

Tony wouldn’t ruin him, like he promised so many times in those last few weeks, he would fuck him long and slow, raspy voice whispering sweet praise in his ear, rough hands holding him down, hips snapping with each unrelenting thrust.

He bit his lips, knees buckling as he felt the front of the panties getting wet, while his leaking cock struggled to get free.

Well, then.

He grabbed his camera from the closet and positioned it on a tripod in front of the bed, just a few feet away, and programmed it to take pictures every five seconds. He sat on the bed, facing the camera, feet still on the floor, and just closed his eyes for a minute, letting a sigh escape his lips as the fantasy from before filled his mind again.

He spread his legs and his fingers reached down to the front of his panties again. His cock felt impossibly hard, straining against the delicate fabric, dark pink tip peeking out of over the top of the tiny underwear. He touched himself slowly, hips rocking lightly to match the pace of his own hand, as he listened to the clicks of the pictures being taken.

He had to force himself to stop, before he lost control, and moved to kneel on the bed, with his side facing the camera, and lowered his chest until it was touching the mattress, letting his back curve in a sinful arch, head turned to the side, staring right at the lens. At Tony. Imagining what he would do if he were there.

He sat back on his heels and turned his back to the camera, spreading his knees, each of his hands grabbing one ass cheek, pulling them apart, only a thin, barely there strip of fabric hiding his nakedness. He looked over his shoulder and waited for the camera to take at least a couple of pictures.

Next, he laid on his back, side facing the camera again, left hand rubbing one nipple over the silky fabric, as the right one reached down the front of the panties, to finally give himself some sort of relief. He let out an almost pained moan as he wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping it slowly, once, twice, but all that teasing was driving him a little insane.

He knew he should probably take a few more pictures, but he also knew wouldn’t last much longer.

He got off the bed and went to the dresser where he kept all of his “work stuff”. He grabbed a tube of lube and a vibrator that was neither too small, nor too big, it was a size Peter was comfortable with.

He switched the camera to video mode, pressed record and resumed his position on the bed, knees on the bed, holding his lower body up, and chest resting on the mattress. He squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, pushed the panties a little to the side and circled his hole gently, slowly, because that was how he imagined Tony would do it. Those big, rough hands would have grabbed him by the hips, put him in that exact position, before teasing him mercilessly.

He moaned quietly and closed his eyes, rubbing slow circles around his rim, pressing a little against his entrance, but not hard enough to breach it. He felt his cock pulsing, begging for attention, but he didn’t dare to touch it, not yet.

“Tony, please...” He whined, pushing his hips back against his own hand, he was so lost in his fantasy he almost forgot he didn’t need to beg. Almost. “I need you...”

Gently, he started pushing one finger inside, knuckle by knuckle, he was so aroused he barely felt the burn, just delicious pressure that made his eyes roll to the back of his head. He started fucking himself on his finger, feeling the muscles around it slowly make way.

“’Been thinking about you, Tony…” he rasped out, hips pushing back against his hand. “Can’t stop thinking ‘bout you...” When he felt loose enough, he pushed another finger inside, the stretch becoming a little more noticeable as he slowly scissored himself open. He got on all fours and turned his back to the camera to give Tony a better view, all spread out for him, and kept fucking himself, picking up the pace once just those two fingers weren’t enough. “Fuck, daddy, need you so bad...”

He eased the fingers out of himself, sighing at the loss, and reached for the vibrator that was sitting on the bed and turned to face the camera again. He knelt on the bed and, with one hand, he propped the vibrator up on the mattress, holding it down from behind him, as with the other hand he guided its tip to his already abused hole.

He flicked the switch and it vibrated to life, nudging against his hole before finally slipping in. Peter’s breath hitched at the intrusion, feeling the delicious burn on his lower back, as he moved his hips up and down slowly, trying to push more of it inside with each painful thrust.

“Fuck me, Tony,” he begged, as his free hand finally reached for his neglected cock, pumping it hard and fast, matching the maddening pace his hips set. He lost all sense of rhythm when he felt the tip of the vibrator finally – finally – reach his prostate and he pushed it even further in, until the pressure against the bundle of nerves became too much and he exploded in one of the best orgasms he had had in a long, long time. “Oh, f-fuck!” His vision went dark for a second as he let himself fall back on the bed, wasted.

He spent almost ten minutes just lying there, trying to catch his breath and regain consciousness. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like that, he was boneless, floaty, completely satisfied. It was honestly the best he felt in months.

When his legs stopped shaking, he got up and headed straight to the shower, still feeling a little dizzy and weak, but he wasn’t complaining.

Once he was finished, he debated whether he should just go to bed or send Tony what he had, but with the way he was feeling, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep so easily. So decided to send at least the pictures right away, even though it was nearing 3AM. Peter knew Tony was probably up, the man did say that he was an insomniac and that he sometimes went days without any real sleep, so it wasn’t a surprise when he answered just a few minutes after Peter sent them.

“Holy fuck, Peter!!” Peter bit his lower lip, burying his face in the pillow to hide his blush, even though he was alone in his room.“What the fuck, baby, it’s three in the morning, are you trying to fucking kill me?!”

“So you like them?” He asked with feigned innocence.

“I fucking love them, you little tease, these are hands down my favorites yet. I swear I’m gonna have them framed and hung in my workshop and I’ll spend the rest of my fucking days just writing odes to you.” Peter giggled into the pillow, turning on his side to get more comfortable on the bed.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” He joked lightly, blushing again, which was stupid, but he couldn’t help it.

“Fuck no! You’re something else, kitten, and you don’t even know it.” Peter suppressed a smile, biting his lower lip.

“Are you touching yourself right now, daddy?”

“To be honest, I’m so fucking hard I think I’m gonna come instantly if I even brush my fingers on my cock. I’m literally just staring at the pictures right now and worrying I’m gonna come untouched just from that.” Peter laid on his stomach and bit the pillow, gently rocking his hips against the bed.

“That’s so hot. Can I see it?”

Seconds later, there was a video in the chat. He played it immediately and, sure enough, Tony wasn’t kidding. His cock was rock hard, throbbing, the head was an angry purple, already glistening with pre-cum. Tony was just holding it at the base, not daring to touch it, and the whole thing almost made Peter hard again, but he was really exhausted.

“Fuck, daddy, I really wish I could help you with that.”

“Oh, you don’t even know what I wish.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a few minutes and Peter figured he had gone to sleep, but then his phone beeped, alerting him to another message from him. It was, of course, a picture of Tony’s spent cock, resting against his belly, which was covered in come, so much of it Peter’s mouth watered.

“Was it good, daddy?”

“The best, sweetheart. Thank you. I’m gonna sleep like a baby today.” Peter chuckled. Tony always said that was high praise coming from someone who hardly ever slept and the younger man took his word for it.

“Goodnight, Tony. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Looking forward to it, Pete.”

He knew he was fucked the second he tried to suppress a small smile, but couldn’t.

[hotchscotchh]

Reimagined; Chapter 6 - George Foyet (1)

Hey y’all! I lied before, this is the actual last chapter of my rewrite. The epilogue is coming soon <3

Summary: Spencer settles some of Aaron’s worries about George Foyet. (AKA Spencer gives Aaron false hope)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Kissing, anxiety, mentions of sexual activity

Word count; 1.3k

Read on AO3

Chapter 5 —— chapter 7

Based on 4x18, Omnivore

Hotch gave Spencer a key almost a week ago. After the first time they had sex in Aaron’s apartment, it became a nearly daily thing for Spencer to come over and spend the night, when Jack wasn’t there, of course. Spencer was loving being able to share a bed with someone every night, and obviously the sex was a plus.

Tonight, Spencer was headed to Aaron’s favorite 24/7 Thai restaurant to get dinner for the two of them. H e new that Aaron would be hurting, and wasn’t sure that Aaron wanted him there, but the older man hadn’t said otherwise.

That being said, when he knocked on Aaron’s door that night, he wasn’t surprised that he opened the door with tears in his eyes, not wanting company. Spencer knew he should respect that and just go home, but this is Spencer Reid we’re talking about. He wasn’t going to do that. He pushed past Aaron into his living room and set their food down on the coffee table.

“Spencer, I’m really not-”

Spencer cut him off by walking over and giving him a soft kiss before pulling him into a tight hug that the older man easily melted into. “I know, Aaron. We don’t have to talk but I’m not going to leave you alone tonight. I know what it’s like to be personally targeted by an unsub, you know that. I know that you weren’t drugged, there’s no reason for me to be worried about you being on them like you had to be worried for me, but tat doesn’t mean I’m going to sit at home and let you engage in self-destructive behavior. I see that bottle of scotch on the counter. Besides, if you really didn’t want me here, you would’ve told me at work, I’m not stupid,” Spencer finished his rant with a huff.

Aaron pulled away from Spencer’s warm embrace to look him in the eyes. He knew that there was no getting the younger man to leave now. Honestly, he had expected exactly this. He knew spencer was going to come over (and he kind of hoped they would have sex), so he had sat on his couch, staring into the darkness, waiting for the knock he knew was coming. He didn’t even remember getting that bottle of scotch out.

Aaron soon directed them to the couch and began laying out the food that Spencer brough. They ate slowly and not a lot. Neither man was particularly hungry. There was a big weight hanging over the both of them that they knew wouldn’t be lifted until Aaron talked about what they both knew was on his mind. When Aaron finished, he leaned back on the couch and looked over at Spencer.

“You know I will never regret helping you in the aftermath of Tobias Hankel, right? Spencer, that man did unbelievable things to you. He drugged you, beat you, Spencer, he killed you! What kind of person, boss, friend would I have been if I didn’t help you? I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for taking Gideon’s word when he told me he was taking care of you after the New Orleans incident, for not making sure that you were okay myself. But I’ll never, never, regret the time I spent helping you recover.

Spencer took a breath and thought about what Aaron said for a moment. “Aaron, I honestly don’t know what to say to that. I know I’ve thanked you for it before, but I’ll never be able to thank you enough. I know it was difficult, and I’m still sorry I put you in the position of knowing for so long.”

Aaron let out a sad, watery chuckle. The tears were flowing freely now. “Don’t apologize, Spencer. I just said that I will never regret it. And you don’t need to thank me, either. What the two of us have now is more than enough of a thank you.”

Spencer, who ow had tears in his own eyes, reached over and took Aaron’s hand, bringing it shakily to his mouth and kissed it. “Are we going to talk about what’s bothering you about Foyet now? I think I know exactly what it is, but we both know from experience that you talking about it will help.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you think it bothering me and I’ll tell you how close you are,” Aaron said, looking down at his hands that were twitching nervously.

Spencer was surprised by that. Aaron is generally a straight-forward person. Spencer shifted so he could look at Aaron without turning his head. “I think you’re downright terrified that since he escaped prison, he’s going to come after you, Haley, and Jack, and endangering your son in the absolute last thing you want to do, as well as it being one of the factors behind your divorce. How’d I do?”

“You missed one person. I’m scared he’ll come after you too, Spence. I know it’s unlikely he knows about us, but what if he’s watching me? What if I lose you? What if I lose Jack, Haley? Where would I be?” The tears were flowing freely before, but now they’re coming in fast, hot waves.

Spencer sighed. “Aaron, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I don’t think this is something you should let yourself dwell on until it’s something to dwell on. You know Foyet’s M.O., he wants to torture as many people as possible, he’ll want to go directly for you. And that’s not necessarily a good thing, but you’re strong. You’ll get through this, and hopefully we’ll catch him before he gets the chance.”

Spencer would look back on this conversation, realizing how horribly wrong he was with his estimations of how things would play out. Realizing how much he wished he hadn’t given Aaron so much false hope. Because when the things you don’t want to happen the most do happen, it’s the worst feeling. Especially in this magnitude.

“Thank you, Spencer.” Aaron spoke up, voice still weak from tears. “I really appreciate everything you do for me. That does make me feel a little better. I’d rather him come for me than anyone else.”

“I know, Aaron.” Spencer would look back on that too, he’d think about how much he wished the man would be a little selfish sometimes. “We’ll do everything we can to help you and everyone you love of off his radar.”

They were both crying very freely now. Aaron leaned over to close the space between them, giving Spencer a kiss that he hoped was passionate enough to convey how he was feeling, even just a fraction of it. It quickly turned heated, needy, which was a surprising turn, but neither man was exactly complaining. They relaxed into each other, Spencer’s hand finding its way to cup Aaron’s jaw, Aaron with one hand on the back of Spencer’s neck, the other on his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

When Aaron’s hand started working on Spencer’s buttons, he pulled away, panting. “Bedroom?”

Aaron nodded, and wrapping Spencer’s legs tightly around his own waist, he managed to stand up with the smaller man in his arms. They found their way to the bedroom eventually, after making a few stops along the way to kiss against the wall. When they fell into bed it was passionate, needy, all consuming. Whispered I love yous, tender kisses, soft touches. They fell asleep wrapped in each other, content, in love, and momentarily worry-free.

The next morning, Aaron began his slow withdrawal of money from his bank accounts, using cash as it wouldn’t leave a trace, and advising Haley and Spencer to do the same (which they did, they we’re scared too, even if they don’t say it out loud). He also had alarms installed in his and Spencer’s respective apartments (though they shared Aaron’s more often than not) as well as in Haley and Jack’s house. Aaron was genuinely terrified of what this man could (and will) do to his family.

Taglist: @sbeno22 @marsjareau

[victuurifanartandfanfiction]

I’ve always thought it would be a cute idea id Yuuri was a painting restoration person, if that makes sense. And Victor is an avid art collector that loves to watch Yuuri work and will only ever go to Yuuri to have a painting restored and Yuuri for the life of him can’t imagine why Victor would choose to sit in relative silence for hours just to watch him work. Not sure if it would be a request you would be willing to do just thought it would be cute~

Hello~! Thank you so much for requesting. I have actually never heard of painting restoration before and so I looked it up (please forgive me for any mistakes)! It’s super satisfying! For anyone interested, I found a video about it. 

I actually really love this request, so if you’re interested in a continuation (as in I make this a whole AU with credits to @doki-dolly​), don’t be afraid to leave a comment or enter my ask box! I did do a little continuation of it that I hope you can enjoy! (I actually completed this piece while listening to a couple of painting conservation videos! I definitely have a new addiction now^^;.) As always, feel free to request another piece! I hope you enjoy~!

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AO3 Link 

Previous ♡ Next

♡ Masterlist ♡

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“You know you can leave, right Mr. Nikiforov?” Yuuri said, gently gliding a cotton swab across the painting, “This is going to take a while. As I said before, the estimated time it will take to restore this painting is about two to three weeks, and today I will be working on it for nine hours. If you want to see my progress from today, you can just come back after the nine hours is finished and I’ll gladly bring it out and show you.” Victor took a sip from his cup and set it on the guest table.

“I suppose I just enjoy watching you work,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders a bit, “You’re the only person I go to for painting restoration and by far my favorite.” Yuuri paused and looked at Victor from his working table. He let out a small laugh seeing the fascination in Victor’s eyes.

“I just don’t see how something as slow and boring could be so interesting to someone,” Yuuri continued to clean up grime off of the painting, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, but I can’t see how someone else could find it so interesting.” Yuuri lifted the swab from the painting, scanning for any spot he may have missed.

“I suppose paintings really are your passion then,” he said, “You’re the first person to have stayed and watched the process.” Victor was a regular customer, coming to Yuuri whenever he had a new painting that had come to his possession. Whenever a painting was brought in, Victor never left the shop for a couple of hours. He would just sit at the guest table, watching the process. Yuuri just couldn’t understand how someone could sit and watch such a process in complete silence without going insane.

♡ ♡ ♡

Victor stood up and walked towards the table that Yuuri was at.

“Do you mind if I stand here?” Victor asked, studying Yuuri.

“Yes, of course. All I ask is that you don’t touch anything,” Yuuri continued working before he sprung up, “Oh my gosh! I totally forgot to ask if you would like a chair! I’ll go get you one right now!” Victor quickly waved his hand in dismissal while laughing.

“No need to worry! I prefer to stand,” he stated through his laughter. Yuuri relaxed and continued to work.

“I can’t apologize enough, Mr. Nikiforov. I was just focused and it totally slipped my mind,” Yuuri said, the sincerity clear in his voice. Victor’s gaze never left Yuuri. The longer he stared, the more detail he saw. The small crease in Yuuri’s eyebrow when he was cleaning the corners, the way he bit his lip when gently wiping the signature, the glow in his eyes whenever he finished a large piece of the painting…

“To address your curiosities earlier,” Victor said, his eyes never leaving Yuuri, “Of course, I am an avid art collector. I love art, everything about it is absolutely stunning to me. I wasn’t really interested in the restoration process, but I adore the way you do it. You might even argue I stay here just to watch you work, not the process.” Yuuri’s face flushed red.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri’s voice trembled from embarrassment.

“We’ve known each other for quite a while now, just call me Victor.” A smile was beaming across Victor’s face as he spoke. Yuuri turned to look at him but quickly turned away. Playful from Yuuri’s shyness, Victor began to question him.

“So, how long have you been a painting conservator?” Victor asked, slowly getting closer to Yuuri. “Actually, only one year. I started when I was 22 and I’m 23 right now,” Yuuri responded, returning his focus on the painting.

“Oh, so we are only four years apart!” The excitement was evident in his voice. At first, Victor admired Yuuri’s skill and work. Now, it was forming into an infatuation with Yuuri himself. Victor was glad to learn anything about Yuuri and was more pleased to know that they were not too far apart in age.

“So, I’m interested in the process you take to conserve paintings,” Victor said, trying to stay as calm as he could, “So how about, say maybe two days from now, you tell me over coffee?” Yuuri’s face turned bright red. He had admired Victor’s art collection for so long, and now he had the chance to finally speak with him about it! Seconds of silence passed before Yuuri gave his answer.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

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I usually try to keep my asks about 300-600 words, but this prompt was so fun and engaging to write! I hope you can enjoy my continuation of your prompt and the writing itself, @doki-dolly​​! If anyone is interested in me turning this into a full-blown AU, please leave an ask or a comment asking for a continuation. 

If I do continue this AU, I will probably add more to this section as well as a piece before it, emphasizing how Victor and Yuuri meet in this AU. 

Thank you so much for requesting, and feel free to do so again! As always, my main account is @queenwinterofluna​. If you enjoyed this piece like and leave a comment below! 

Constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated. Reblogs are also very treasured! If you are interested in requesting a piece, the guidelines are here!

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[tenspontaneite]

PIAJ Q&A 1

Having decided to stop answering individual piaj-related asks on my tumblr, I’m implementing Q&A posts now. I’ll also be answering questions from ao3 comments here, though in some cases I’ll reply to those on the actual fanfic as well. Given I answered the vast majority of post-chapter-16 questions already, some of this is repetition, and I’ve not included all of the questions here. Anything going forwards will be addressed in the post-chapter-17 Q&A.

Spoilers for: Up to Chapter 16.

Subjects covered: Rayla’s braid, Rayla’s strength, Cairon’s name, snow melting on elf horns, elf resistance to cold, elf immune response, temperature of the current weather conditions, canon stance on Rayla’s hand.

---

Has Rayla lost her braid, or does she still have it?

Rayla still has her braid. Nothing has happened to lead to her losing it.

 Does Rayla’s weird extra strength have anything to do with: Moon Nexus, Azymondias, horns, lilium-

Nope. The revelation regarding Rayla’s strength has been written and is coming out next chapter.

 Is Cairon’s name based on Charon, the ferryman of the underworld?

Yes. Yes it is.

 Does snow melting on Rayla’s horns indicate she’s feverish?

No. It indicates that her horns contain living tissue, have a blood supply, and accordingly lose enough heat to melt snow that lands on them.

 Are piaj elves more resistant to cold?

Skywing elves and Tidebound elves are highly resistant to cold in piaj worldbuilding. Any resistance that other types of elf have is very minor. Effectively, Rayla is about as cold-resistant as your average human; or perhaps slightly less, given she can lose heat through her horns.

 Do you have any thoughts on elf immune systems vs human immune systems?

I do. The basics of this is that elves have reduced immune response compared to humans, and ‘outsource’ a fair bit of their immunity to their native magic. When ambient magic of the relevant Primal is particularly low, they can be considered mildly to moderately immunocompromised, and are at higher risk of sickness and infection. This is one of several deleterious effects that insufficient magic can have on elves. When adequately supplied with their native magic, elves have on average better immunity than humans, which scales by individual power.

 What is the temperature in Celsius that the kids are facing in this storm?

I’d estimate around -20c at the worst, which outside of a blizzard is severely unpleasant but honestly not that bad. I’ve camped in -15 on a mountain before, at considerably greater altitude than the kids are currently at. I think it was around 3900m for that particular campsite? It was extremely unpleasant, but there were no winds, snow, or lightning preventing tent use. We hunkered down in our sleeping bags in the inner-layer of our tent and were fine.

The danger comes from not being able to take adequate shelter in an enclosed space, being assailed by wind and ice, and so on. I expect the temperature to drop further during the night, but I don’t have solid numbers on how low I think it gets. Suffice to say, it’s bloody cold.

 Did you see the post by the animators indicating that canon Rayla’s hand is not the same after the binding?

I didn’t, on account of having been on something of a social media blackout since a few weeks before quarantine. I’m very much out of the loop now, but it was necessary for my mental health early in lockdown. I approve of the general sentiment that Rayla’s hand has lingering effects from binding, which was relatively evident in a couple of s3 moments, but the ruthless realist in me can’t quite forgive how rapidly and near-totally it recovered in s1 >.> if you’re going to say there are lasting effects, at least let there be some sort of nod towards it hurting a bit following the unbinding…still. It’s far from my greatest gripe with the show, and on the whole, I don’t care enough about any of my gripes to stop enjoying tdp.

But. Suffice to say, piaj Rayla isn’t getting off nearly as lightly as canon Rayla. :D

[carry-on-big-bang]

FAQ

Here is a big list of questions that we’ve gotten over the years/ things we want to clarify. We hope that this is a helpful tool for you. Each section has a big section header with individual questions under each of those. The sections are in the order as followed: general, Before signing up, Writer, Artist, Explicit content, Partner problems, Claiming, Dropping out, Check-ins, and Posting.

Who are the mods and where can I find them?

The mod for these events is currently Mod Simon and Mod Autumn. You can find us at @isthisisagoodkiss (Mod Simon) and @angelsfalling16 @Autumn)

What event is happening right now?

Right now we are hosting the Carry On Big Bang 2021, our fourth event.

What does that mean?

A big bang is a collaborative fandom event in which writers and artists come together to create masterpieces. Basically, the writers write a bunch of (usually quite long) fic and the artists choose one each (“claiming”) and make art for the fic. Then it will all be posted more or less at once in an explosion of fanwork.

Before signing up

1. How do I sign up?

We will post a link to the writer google form and artist google form on both tumblr and the discord server. Anyone can apply. You must provide your email, other contact information, and agree to our rules.

2. Do I need experience or a certain age to participate?

No! Though we do ask that participants under 18 do not make explicit fic or art.

3. What is a “pinch-hitter”?

A pinch-hitter is someone who is willing to cover for others. This usually only applies to artists, but is vice versa with writers. If someone drops out we will send an email out to those who said yes to being a pinch-hitter and ask someone to step in.

4. Can I sign up as both an artist and a writer?

Yes!

5. Do I need to have a certain skill level to participate?

No. We welcome all skill levels. Doesn’t matter if you’ve been writing/ creating art for one day or 10 years!

6. How many projects per person?

You can do as many as you would like. We ask you to keep your limits in mind though.

7. Why do you need my tumblr? What about discord? Why both?

We ask for these things because it’s another way to contact participants. We usually only resort to using these when someone hasn’t responded to a check-in through email.

8. What if my contact information changes?

Just send one of the mods a message with your past contact info and what you would like it changed to and we can fix that right up.

9. Will we get reminders about check-ins and posting?

Yes! We send out an email when the check-ins go live and those that haven’t responded once the due date is a day or two away will receive another email. On the final day of the check-in we will send out a reminder through tumblr/discord to those who have still not checked in.

10. I heard there was a discord. What’s that about?

We use our discord as a place to answer questions, bring people together, and give participants a space to talk about their works (without going too much into detail). There are separate channels for artists and writers as well as some general channels. We also have participants who participated in years past who have stuck around.

11. What timezone are dates set in?

PST. That’s where Mod Simon lives and seems like a pretty good “true end of the day” time.

12. What time of day do emails go out?

We don’t have a specific time that emails go out, but it’ll usually be between 9 am and 2 pm PST.

13. What parts of my information will be shared with others?

We will share your email address and tumblr handle with your partner, but nobody else. If you do not have a tumblr, then we will share your discord username and 4 digit code.

14. I missed sign-ups. Can I still participate?

Unfortunately, no. We feel like we give a significant amount of time for people to sign-up. We’d be glad to have you next year, though!

Writer

1. When can I start writing?

You can start writing whenever you want! We suggest that you start before the second check-in on May 1st.

2. How much can I write?

The minimum word count is 4,000 words, but beyond that you have free rein.

3. What happens if my plot changes?

If this happens after you’ve submitted your fic concept and before preview day, send one of the mods a message and fill out the form again. If it happens after teams have been announced just talk to your partner about it.

4. The minimum word count for fics is 4k. How does that work for chaptered fics?

If your first chapter is more than 4k words, then post just that on your day of posting and finish posting after July 31st when all of the posting for the event is complete. If your first chapter is less than 4k words then post as many chapters as it takes for you to get across the 4k words mark on your posting date.

5. What if I don’t know what my word count for my fic will be?

Just give us an estimate. It doesn’t matter to the mods if your mind on this changes, just be sure to talk to your partner.

6. Can we co-write?

Yes! We have a place on the form for you to put the email and tumblr handle of your co-writer. If you have a co-writer, we only need one of you to fill out the check-ins but if both (or more) of you want to do it, you’re welcome! The artist for the cowriters still must fill out the check-ins as usual.

7. Can we write tropes/AUs that have been used in past COBB events?

Of course!

8. How will we send in our fic concepts?

We will send out an email to writers on February 19th with a link to a google form for you to fill out.

9. Can I write AUs, crossovers and the like as well?

Yep!

10. Do I need to include Snowbaz?

No. You can write whatever.

11. Are writers required to have a beta reader?

No.

12. Do I need to have an AO3 account?

You do not, but we recommend it.

Artist

1. What is Preview Day?

Preview Day is the day in which all fic concepts are posted on airtable and available for all artists to see. Claiming has not started yet so this gives artists time to see which fics they might be interested in making art for.

2. When can I start making art?

You can start making art when you know your team. We recommend also talking with your writer about your art.

3. Is there a limit to how much art I can make?

Nope!

Explicit Content

1. Do I need to be a certain age to make explicit content?

We ask that participants under 18 do not make any explicit content.

2. Can I make explicit art?

You can, but we will not have it on the masterpost that you send in. You can, however, post a link to it on that post.

Partner Problems

1. My partner isn’t being respectful. What do I do?

Tell the moderators and we will have a talk to them as well as possibly kick them out of the event.

2. What if my partner doesn’t respond?

Send the mods a message and we will try to contact them.

Claiming

1. How do I claim a fic?

We will send out an email to all artists on February 24th with a link to a google form where you will put your top three fic concepts.

2. Where will the fic concepts be posted for claiming?

On airtable! We will send an email out to artists with a link on February 23rd.

Dropping Out

1. What happens if I want to drop out?

You should communicate with your partner about dropping out and then send us an email at carryonbigbang@gmail.com

2. What happens if my partner drops out?

You will have to decide whether you want to keep going with your project or drop out as well. If you want to drop out, just tell us. If you’d like to keep going we will send out an email asking for someone to step in and work with you. We should have you a new partner within a week.

Check-ins

1. Who needs to fill out the check-ins?

Everyone on your team must fill out the check-ins (unless you have cowriters. Then only one of the cowriters has to fill out the check-ins. More info can be found above in the writer section).

2. When must my response for check-ins be turned in by?

A week after they open. The first check-in must be turned in by March 19th. The second by May 7th. And the 3rd by June 8th.

3. How do check-ins work?

We will send an email out to all participants on the day of the check-in (March 13th, May 1st, and June 2nd) with a link to the check-in. You will fill out the form answering how your progress is coming and if you need help with anything. It should take about 5-10 minutes to fill out each form.

4. What if I don’t have access to the internet when a check-in or posting happens?

If you know prior to the check-in that you won’t have internet access send one of the mods an email and we can give you the form early. If you do not know prior, then message us once you have access again and we’ll be understanding. If this happens during posting your partner can submit your masterpost. Make sure that both people have access to the fic and art!

5. Are check-ins mandatory?

Yes.

6. What if I’m too late to turn in a response for a check-in?

Try not to be too late, especially since we’re giving you a week to submit them, but we’ll be understanding.

7. I’m working on two teams. What should I do for the check-ins?

You should fill out the form once for every team that you’re on. There’s also a place for notes on the form. Be sure to tell us which partner you’re working with for each submission.

Posting

1. When should I post my works?

Posting will take place between June 16th and June 30th. You will be assigned a day to post based on your preferences.

2. Where should I post my works?

You can post them wherever!

3. What will posting look like?

First, you and your partner will post your things where you would like. Then, one of you will compile a masterpost that you will submit to our tumblr and we will post it.

4. Will there be an AO3 collection to add my works to?

Yep! More information about that will come out in June.

5. Is there a certain time of day that our fic/art should be posted?

No but if you can do it before 11 pm PST on your assigned day that would be great.

6. How do I submit my masterpost?

On our blog, there is “Submit your masterpost”. Click on that and it will take you to the place you should put in the masterpost. Make sure to click “submit” at the bottom. The information for what a masterpost should look like will come out in June. If you want another example you can look at older submissions.

7. Why do our projects need to be done by the 3rd check-in?

We have this as a deadline because it means that there is extra time should you need it.

8. What do I do if I think my part of the project won’t be done by the posting date?

Talk to your partner about what you should do and then send a message to the mods, preferably before June 9th.

[phcking-detective]

5. Bad Habits

Fic Title: First Blood

Rating: E

Length: 5/33 chapters, ~128k

Tags: Slow Burn, Idiots to Lovers, Trans Character (gavin), Autistic / Asexual / Non-binary Character (nines), BDSM, learning to use good etiquette and safe words, Dom Nines / Sub Gavin, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Tags: Gavin acts like a sleazy corrupt asshole to get another sleazy corrupt asshole to drop his guard, (it’s kind of hot), banter, so much banter in this one, Nines says Creepy Things, dumb idiots flirting without realizing they’re flirting, Nines saves pictures of Gavin’s dumb cute face when he laughs

Link on AO3

***

Senator McAshlynn Dernham [CEO: Synergy Paradigm] acquiesces to an interview with Detective Reed, but his heartbeat picks up to ninety-one BPM when Nines steps into his office as well.

Downtown view, fifty-second floor. Eight hundred and sixty-five square feet--nearly a hundred more than Reed's apartment. Minimalist furniture, a display of signed sports balls, and a jade paperweight shaped like a turtle valued at over four thousand dollars.

It would make an excellent bludgeoning tool.

"Detective Reed." Senator McAshlynn stands up from his desk and meets Reed halfway in the room. "Come in, have a seat."

They shake hands. Reed exerts an estimated fifty-six pounds of pressure on the handshake. Senator McAshlynn's grip strength does not exceed thirty pounds. He tries to hide a grimace, but the one facial expression Nines can reliably detect is pain.

"Sit down, sit down. What can I do for you, detective?"

Nines is not offered a greeting or a seat. It would hurt all zero of his feelings, except no talking and no physical contact is how he prefers to interact with humans. He stands behind Reed while the detective sprawls out in the offered chair.

"Just have a couple of financial questions for you, Mr. McAshlynn," Reed says.

"Oh no, McAshlynn isn't my last name," Senator McAshlynn replies. He grips the back of his chair with an estimated thirty-two pounds of strength. "Senator McAshlynn is my first name, both of them. My last name is Dernham."

"Right."

Detective Reed performed fairly extensive research on Senator Ashlynn Dernham (limited as he is by his lack of neural connection to the internet) before their arrival. Despite being fully aware of the not-senator's two first names situation, he lets the silence drag on for thirty-six seconds before clicking his tongue and continuing.

"I only need to confirm a few things about Mr. Russell's finances, and then we'll go."

Senator McAshlynn's BPM ticks up to ninety-four. "I'm not sure why that would interest you or be relevant to me. Russell personally made those investments with money given directly to him by his … investors. Although he did found this company, I can assure you, Synergy Paradigms remained completely uninvolved and unaware of--"

"Yeah, yeah." Detective Reed waves his hand. "Relax, I'm not here to bust your balls, and I don't care. I just gotta make sure Russell really did have plenty of motive to commit suicide."

"Is there something questionable about shooting himself in the head?" Senator McAshlynn asks.

Reed shrugs. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through a takeout ordering app. Nines can hear the other human begin to grind his teeth, and pinpoint the exact moment he begins inhaling in order to speak again. Even with his limited human senses, Detective Reed somehow senses this precise moment as well.

"Look, the media's making this into a big shitstorm out there, all right?" he says. "Didn't think I needed to tell you that. I just wanna make sure I'm covering my own ass, and I get that you want to do the same. No problem. Like I said, you answer some questions about <I>his</i> finances, and we leave."

Senator McAshlynn considers. "All right. I may be able to do that."

"Cool. Like I said, I'm not here to bust your balls." Reed's reflection in the wall-to-ceiling windows in front of him gives a smile even Nines can recognize as sleazy. "Guy's already dead. If you work with me here, I don't mind working with you."

Senator McAshlynn's BPM begins to fall, and he smiles back at Reed. "I'm always happy to assist the DPD, but. As you said, Russel is already dead. I'm not sure what's left for you to work with."

"Mmm." Reed puts his phone away and tilts back in the chair until the back of it rests against Nines' abdomen. "Well, my partner here has done some digging into Russell's finances. Did you know his bank account has been hemorrhaging money this last month?"

"I was not aware of that, no."

"Yep. And here's the really interesting part--he pinged the IP of some other android messing around in there."

That is so inaccurate Nines almost corrects him on sheer principle. He deactivates his voice box though, both to halt that immediate impulse and to prevent interrupting in a conversation that clearly won't involve him.

"Again, I'm not sure how that's relevant to this company," Senator McAshlynn says.

Reed shrugs. "Doesn't matter. You and I both know the media is going to drag Russell's name through the mud and into the spotlight for as long as they can milk it--and they're going to keep mentioning Synergy Paradigms while they do it. Makes for a better story."

"Well, I would certainly like to avoid that." Senator McAshlynn smiles at him again. The action barely involves his lips. "I don't suppose you know an especially talented PR agent?"

"I know large sums of missing money plus a mysterious android equals a damn good story," Reed replies. "So if there's anything you know about that, now's a good time to let me know."

"Is it?"

"I'm not looking to arrest anyone in a suicide. And if some unsavory shit comes up--you know, the kind that would stay on the ten'o'clock for the next month--maybe my partner here deletes some stuff. Maybe I let you know about it, so you get some closure on your dear friend's death."

Senator McAshlynn stays silent as he considers it. Detective Reed lets his chair drop back down to the floor with a loud thunk in the quiet room.

"But in another minute now, I'm gonna go interview that reporter who broke the story," he says with a smile that only serves to show his teeth. "So like I said. Right now is a good time to start working with me."

Senator McAshlynn takes a seat. "What can I do for you, detective?"

Nines saves the smile Reed gave to his most encrypted folder. It shares several points of similarity to his own facial expression categorized as [hostilesmile-murder]. He places the file next to the zoomed view of Gavin's nipples he attempted to delete two weeks earlier.

"Do you know where Russell's money disappeared to this last month?" Detective Reed asks.

Senator McAshlynn sighs. "No. If Russell got into escorts or red ice, I never saw any of it. And even if he did, there's no reason for his indiscretions to drag this company down with him."

"Sure," Reed says. "My partner and I are going to do some digging. See what we find."

"I don't suppose you could be persuaded to … take a holiday?" Senator McAshlynn asks.

Reed clicks his tongue. "Not how this works. And I might not know any PR agents, but I have heard it's better to get ahead of stories before they break. Know what shit stinks in your own house 'n all."

"I might like to know what the hell Russell was doing," Senator McAshlynn admits. "But maybe I'd like it better if no one knew. If we all just, dropped this whole matter?"

"Mmm."

Reed takes his phone back out and takes his time choosing from the menu of the Chinese restaurant closest to the precinct. Nines adds a side of fried vegetables and rice to his order of Chicken Kung Pao (spicy).

While Gavin works at increasing the CEO's stress levels, Nines continues syncing with the smart desk. As soon as Senator McAshlynn rested his hands on its surface, the handprint scanner activated and unlocked the interface, although it stays resting on the set screensaver of mahogany wood.

Nines doesn't alter anything or open any files. He doesn't need to. Senator McAshlynn's calendar, contacts, and social media feeds are set up to sync automatically with all of his devices.

It's simple enough to copy the handprint from the scanner and convince the "smart" desk that he himself is one of those devices.

"Oh, yeah. See." Reed says when Senator McAshlynn begins tapping his twelve hundred dollar pen. "The money? Yeah, maybe that's old news. It was all a Ponzi scheme anyway. But the android …"

Reed lets out a long sigh and tips his seat back again.

"What android?" Senator McAshlynn snaps.

"The one messing around in Russell's finances," Reed says. "Traces of it in his loft too. Can't just let that go."

Senator McAshlynn lays both hands on either side of his desk. Human body language is as chaotic and individual as every human, but this gesture clearly reflects a threatened animal attempting to look bigger than it really is. The motion also places his right hand closer to the portion of the desk's touch screen devoted to summoning security.

Nines tells that particular program to begin an update. The entire smart desk will now need to be restarted in order for the program to function.

"And why not?"

Reed reaches up and taps backwards against Nines' chest. "Say something creepy."

"Jade is porous."

"What are you talking about?" Senator McAshlynn asks, very firmly maintaining eye contact only with Reed.

"Your paperweight would make an excellent bludgeoning tool, but jade is porous," Nines says. "The blood would absorb and stain. Useful for a murder itself, but a liability afterward."

"God, you never disappoint," Reed says as the other human's face pales. "They gave him all this info and programming on solving crimes without ever stopping to think about what reverse engineering means. Takes a special kind of hand to manage him."

Nines deactivates his voice box once more. The problem with custom-building a social module is that he can only learn from his environment. The second problem is that the only human he regularly interacts with is Gavin Reed.

[dialogue options: AVAILABLE]

:Yeah, I bet your hand is real special to you.:

 :I gave a special hand to your mom last night.:

 :You can catch these special hands in the parking lot.:

"Are you threatening me?" Senator McAshlynn demands.

His finger presses down on the incognito security alert. A dialogue box pops up on the table informing him of the necessary restart, ruining the illusion of real wood.

Reed scoffs while he scrambles to close the notification. "I don't care about you enough to do that. It's only the android we're after. Any LM one hundreds, PJ five or six hundreds, or WB five hundreds you seen around Russel?"

"LM—a personal assistant?" Senator McAshlynn looks up from his desk. "No, Russell didn't have one of those. I don't even know what the other two are."

"University lecturer and financial accountant."

Senator McAshlynn huffs. "No. And for the last time detective, this isn't relevant to me or my company."

"All right." Detective Reed stands up. "Thanks for your time, Mr. McAshlynn."

"It's Dernham. Please leave or I will have my security team escort you out," Mr. McAshlynn informs them.

"Two GJ five hundreds and a refurbished GS two hundred." Nines nods his head toward the desk. "Is that paperweight for sale?"

"Get out!"

***

"God that was great. You really fucking asked him if it was for sale."

Gavin is still so pleased about getting kicking out of Synergy Paradigm, he lets Nines control his truck from the passenger's seat. Nines keeps the speed a steady five miles over the limit like his partner prefers and passes him a pack of the regular, non-marijuana cigarettes he smokes while on duty.

"Did you get a picture of his face?"

Nines sends the file to his cellphone. Gavin checks it immediately when it dings, then shoots him a wide smile. Nines saves a picture of that too before he's aware of making the decision to do so. He now has fifty-four pictures of Gavin saved for purposes other than building a databank of facial expressions. Anything more than three is a pattern.

A habit.

"Anything else?" the detective asks. "Wait, if you fucked with his table, don't tell me. Anything you got from that is inadmissible in court, and if there's any chance you might get caught, don't do that shit anymore."

"If there is any chance I might get caught," Nines repeats back to him. "Hypothetically, what if Senator McAshlyn's cell phone--"

He tries to put the right amount of emphasis in his voice to imply air quotes. It is difficult to preconstruct which syllables to stress and in what order. Gavin stares blankly at him. He tries raising his volume by ten percent.

"His cell phone."

Gavin suddenly huffs and rolls his eyes. "Jesus, yeah, OK. If his cell phone did …?"

"Connected to his smart desk and automatically synced to his calendar, contacts, and social media feeds."

"And anyone looking into the like, syncing history or whatever, would confirm his cell phone was the only device to connect to his smart desk about ten minutes ago?"

"Correct."

"OK, hypothetically speaking," Gavin says. "If there's no chance of getting caught--and keep in mind that would mean our whole case could get thrown out and lots of lawyers and Fowler screaming about privacy violations and IA jumping on the chance to fuck over their very first android …"

"Understood."

"If there's no chance of getting caught, that shit is still a slippery fucking slope and you shouldn't risk it."

Nines stares at the human's face, trying to determine if he is being that aspect of [sarcastic] that is not meanly saying the opposite of what he really thinks, but is still saying the opposite in order to [cover his own ass].

"Anyway." Gavin clears his throat. "On a totally unrelated note, do you have a hunch about anything?"

"A hunch."

"Yeah. Like, a gut feeling you can't really explain to me in--"

"Oh."

Gavin clears his throat again.

"I do not believe Senator McAshlynn Dernham was close friends with Maverick Russell," Nines says. "I do not believe the two planned to meet with each other within the last two weeks or the next fortnight."

"You fucking had to say fortnight. Pull over, I have a dance I want to show you."

Nines locks the passenger door. "My 'gut instinct' is that Senator McAshlynn has in fact been distancing himself from the victim for several months now and likely thought Russell was a bad investor, desperate to be liked, and only got lucky mooching off of his co-founders' talents and his father's inheritance when founding Synergy Paradigms."

"That's all your gut instinct, huh?"

"Social media accounts are public knowledge, and I have the processing power to review literally everything Senator McAshlynn has ever made publicly available online. He has not been discreet about his feelings. That is my assessment of them."

"You remember what I said about staying out of my life?" Gavin asks.

"Yes, detective." Nines does not sigh, because that would be redundant. "I am not to access your medical history or background information."

"Just keep that in mind."

"I am affixing a permanent post-it note to my field of vision right now."

"Fuck off. Is there anything else I need to know about?"

Nines considers. "Do you need the video and audio I recorded?"

Gavin actually does sigh, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "What the fuck did you record?"

"Technically speaking, I am always recording."

"This whole fucking conversation is justifying every bit of my goddamn paranoia about androids, you know that, right?"

"Humans may also acquire go-pros."

"So you admit that's what you are."

"Do you wish for me to upload the video and audio recording of our walk through the interior of Synergy Paradigms to your terminal or not, detective?"

"Yeah, sure." Gavin takes a long drag of his cigarette while he thinks. "I mean, I was right fucking there with you though. I saw everything you did."

"True," Nines admits. "You did see everything I did, but you do not possess the ability to review that video with perfect recall. My hearing is also significantly more advanced than yours, and I recorded audio from humans on the first and second floors, as well as the fifty-first, fifty-second, and fifty-third, within an approximate three to five office radius."

Gavin nearly lets the cigarette drop from his open mouth. "Holy shit. Uhhh, yeah, sure. Fuckers in a company like that gotta be gossiping about what happened. Maybe we'll pick something up."

The majority of the audio is, in fact, gossip. Nines has already processed and reviewed it of course, but he is also aware his lack of a social module and general understanding of humans must necessarily limit his ability to determine the relevance of what he's heard.

Personally, he would declare it all irrelevant. "Petty gossip" does not even begin to describe how asinine and crude the humans' dialogue is. It's all about who has been fucking whom, who is climbing the corporate ladder, and who is fucking whom in order to climb the corporate ladder.

The entire experience of walking through one [1] human corporation has justified every bit of his disgust for humans.

Still, Nines will transfer the files to the detective's workplace terminal via direct connection once they arrive back at the precinct. So far, there is nothing currently illegal about his advanced hearing and "privacy violations." And technically, anything in plain sight or said within hearing of an officer may be admitted in court as evidence.

It just so happens that Nines's sight and hearing have a bit wider scope than current laws predicted.

Gavin works on nursing his cigarette down to a nub for the next several minutes without speaking. When he taps the backs of his knuckles against his window, Nines rolls it down for him. They're moving slowly enough through the city traffic for him to ash his cigarette out the window. The cold air whipping through puts a red flush on his face as he smokes and blows it out the window.

"But seriously," the human continues after a few minutes of quiet driving. "If I ever get like that for real, knife me in the back of the neck. Straight through all of that good brain-spine stuff."

Nines runs several preconstructions. While monitoring other police officers isn't part of his mission, he was created to serve as a form of Internal Affairs. RK800s to track down the deviants and RK900s to monitor the eights.

(His [pride] pushes the idea that he is more akin to Military Police, but that is irrelevant to the preconstructions and possibly a deviant thought pattern.)

Still, Nines is aware a not-insignificant number of police officers commit errors ranging from abusing their authority to planting evidence to outright working alongside criminals for profit. Even Detective Reed has shown a propensity to skirt right along the edge of what is legal--or not technically illegal.

His assumed persona at Synergy Paradigms seems to have illustrated crossing the line however, so Nines categorizes those behaviors as [unacceptable] in his system and updates his own action-paths accordingly.

The preconstructions of killing or permanently disabling Detective Reed still fail.

But his partner is designated as his [human partner] within his system, and there may be dormant programming preventing Nines from causing serious harm to him.

"I will inform you that your behavior is no longer acceptable," Nines tells him. "If you continue after my warning, then I will neutralize you."

Gavin takes a long drag off his cigarette and gives him the facial equivalent of the :eyes: emoji. Not an apologetic look as Nines originally interpreted, but an expression known as "side-eyeing." His extensive collection of saved images focused on Gavin's face has given Nines a much higher rate of success at interpreting his partner's nonverbal signals than the average human.

"Didn't take you for the type to give warnings," Gavin finally says.

"Well." Nines practices shrugging. "It takes a special hand to manage me."

Gavin snorts out smoke. "Fuck. Did I really sound that stupid?"

[dialogue options: AVAILABLE]

"I estimate your hand is very special to you, detective."

That earns him another snort. Eighty-three chance of [amusement].

"I gave a special hand to your mother yesterday evening."

"Hope you didn't bother paying for that shit."

"You may receive these special hands at a Denny's parking lot of your choice."

That finally makes Gavin laugh, long and loud enough that he starts coughing. He flips Nines off around a wheeze, still grinning. Nines watches him keep smoking and adds to his collection of saved images.

It's a very bad habit.

***

***

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / 31 / 32 / 33

I also have a Patreon for this fic, if you want to support me! $1 gets you access to chapters a week early, $2 gets bonus content and deleted scenes, and $3 gets short chapters from two AUs I’m writing: an A/B/O heatfic and reverse!AU

[theonceoverthinker]

CSFicRecMonday: Ten Reasons Why YOU Should Be Reading “Rising From The Ashes”

Let me set the stage for you: It’s last Wednesday. Little Theonceoverthinker just posted her Emma and Ella fic onto AO3 and bored, she went to see what else in the fandom was posted. She came across a fic advertised as angsty with a VERY interesting premise and went to check it out, only to go on the AU roller coaster ride of her forking life! And BOY did she love/writhe in angst over it! Because of that, how could I NOT make that story my @csficrecmonday of the week?!

So strap yourselves in, buckos because these are ten reasons why YOU (Yes, YOU) should get off your tuccus and check out @let-it-raines “Rising From The Ashes!”

Spoilers will be kept to a minimum and only cover the broad storkes! Also, this is in no particular order!

1. An already established CS relationship. I like a good romantic setup as much as the next girl, but I find the notion of seeing a CS romance that starts with them together is so refreshing! How often do you see that happen? It’s just cool! And this fic has it! Emma and Killian are in a domestic partnership that’s so loving and it’s great! There’s that sense of familiarity between the two of them that doesn’t need to rely one them just knowing how the other is feeling. Instead, the story establishes that they spent a lot of time together to get to that point where they could easily read one another. It fills the reader with this really rewarding feeling right off the bat that instantly establishes the emotional stakes for this story!

2. Neal is not the worst being in the world in this story...but he’s not necessarily a great one either. I know that I am very much alone in the fandom when it comes to my thoughts on Neal, but I don’t really like aggressively anti-Neal fics. If you are, more power to you, but they’re just not my cup of tea. So to see a CS fic that heavily features Neal that has him be a bit of a jerk, but far from terrible and completely worthy of sympathy from the audience is so nice to read! We see some negativity with his character and while it’s undeniably present, it’s not overly present either. Plus, he’s a veteran and a war hero who loves and misses his family and wants them to ultimately be happy -- the sympathy so lovingly baked for him makes the conflict sticky, but in this amazing way where you want all of these parties to be happy at the end of the day. That balance is just so nice and it makes this read all the more intriguing! Is it possible this will change? Who knows -- I won’t claim to, but even if it does, I’m happy with how this was handled for the nine released chapters thus far!

3. Emma and Killian start the story with a kid. This harkens back to my first point, but seeing Emma and Killian already have a baby is just really refreshing. It furthers the emotional stakes of the story and further paints the messy by design nature of the conflict. Also, you get cute Emma and Killian baby moments! And Emma calls her kid “bug.” That’s too adorable for words!

4. It’s still got a long way to go but it’s chugging along! I know WIP’s are  areal sticking point for a lot of people, but let-it-raines has a very consistent schedule that always leaves the next twist of her story winding around the corner! So far, nine chapters have been released and she’s disclosed to me that she’s a little under the halfway point by her estimations. Because of her regular updates, you get this serialized feel to the story that makes it feel like watching OUAT again in the sense that it fills you with that same rush of suspense, dread, fluff, and love for the property!

5. Its conflict is messy by design. Like I said before, the conflict of this story is basically a really messy situation unfolding with a lot of loose threads all around! And raines pulls at every single one of them! The conflict is like a hurricane, one no one was prepared for but have no choice to jump into and confront the matter as well as they can. Her characters are aware of the messiness all around, account for things, and fail to consider other things that act as consequences later. But, they’re all always striving to do their best because they care about each other. This is very much a family making the best of a tragic and hard to pin down situation and they just have to deal with the cards they’re dealt. It gives this story so much heart and endears itself to the reader almost instantly.

6. There are flashbacks! ...I know what I said above about how unique an already established relationship is and I stand by it, but I also acknowledge that there are people who like seeing the couple come together and I am one of them! So, we get to see ALL of the great flashbacks of first meetings and first kisses and traditions that form for our reading pleasure! There’s so much banter and flirting and it hits every note in just the way that you want it to! So it really is the best of both worlds!

7. Henry calls Killian “daddy.” ...I just like Captain Cobra. That’s all I gotta say here. He calls Neal “dad” and Killian “daddy,” and that’s just cute. MOVING ON!

8. Emma’s backstory! I don’t want to spoil Emma’s backstory, but it’s really unique. It has that tragic twinge that always pulls on the heartstrings, but it’s not ALWAYS tragic either. In fact, part of it is really heartwarming and the dynamics that branch off of it are adorable! It involves the characters who you expect it to involve, but again, it’s all done in a creative way that’s never been done before and one of the characters in the story actually surprised me when they showed up because they seldom EVER show up in a CS fic! So great job, raines-y!

9. Liam is alive! ...I don’t think this is much of a spoiler, and for all I know, he COULD die...but he’s alive now...and that makes me happy. MOVING ON!

10. Raines is just a freakin’ good writer! I don’t know how else to say this, but raines just knows how to pen an engaging narrative. Her use of language...look, I’m a persnickety reader. I have styles of writing that I just like more than others and this scratches that itch. She paints a picture with her words that is vibrant and a joy to go through as you read. There’s a  melody to her sentences that flows through the fic like smooth jazz. It allows for the conflicts and dynamics to seamlessly take the stage front-and-center -- not obstructed by anything distracting in the writing and showing just how much this author cares about her work and I just want to appreciate that here! The effort she’s put into this work so far continues to utterly astound me and her dedication to creating a piece that’s as strong in the broad strokes of the conflict to the smaller aspects of the individual words utterly INSPIRES me! Let-it-raines has plenty of brains!

I don’t have a conclusion...You just read ten points about why this fic rocks...GO READ IT NOW!

[blankfishxx]

hey love bug!! how are you? i’m kind of a lurker- i don’t have a tumblr or an ao3 account but i try to comment anonymously. anyway, even though you don’t know me you’re an author that i care about so i wanted to check in- your updates have been less frequent (which is so fine- your creativity and work is SO APPRECIATED- the fact you write at all? we’re so lucky!) but i wanted you to know your readers care, and if we can do anything please let us know :)

This is so so kind, and something I really needed! I’ve been dealing with some unexpectedly tough things in my personal life lately, so it has slowed my writing output considerably. I know most are used to me updating 2x/week for both my fics, but I don’t yet know when I’ll be able to get back to that momentum for now. I put an A/N about this on 37 of ACMI and 15 of Entanglement, but I know there are some that missed it so this ask came at the perfect time for me to re-iterate that fact. In that A/N I’d estimated that I’d be returning to normal in August or so, but as of right now I’m thinking it’ll be late August, and even then I’m thinking it’ll go back to 1x/week per fic. I’ll be updating sporadically until then, though. I have one chapter of each fic coming either this weekend or early next week. Thank you all for your patience and kind words — it means more than words can express. Also, rest assured that I won’t be disappearing completely — my tumblr queue has 100+ posts lined up, and I’ll be answering asks as they come. In addition, I’ve also been quite active on my Discord sever.

[angel-scythe]

I need you : Chapter 3

Hi!

Next chapter! I’m pretty excited because things become angster <3 (And well... I’m surprising myself read again few chapters so it should not be so bad?)

Here, I let you enjoy! Don’t forget to push gently my door to read on AO3 (or just smash it!!)

|   °|

A soft smell was floating around. Niles moved a bit in the sofa and realized there was a pillow under his head. He could tell that was coming from his room and he pressed his fingers on it. The perfume was really soft but he could tell it was food and he didn’t want to eat. He needed to look the hour too but couldn’t.  He preferred looking the TV, where you could see dolphin. He didn’t like dolphin because he could remembered that time in an aquarium where one throw himself on the glass and Connor started to cry so much, terrified. Their mom had scolded him.

He hated him for that day because he should have explained what happened to their mom. It was really frightening… and it was worst even when they bought them plush. Dolphin plush and he didn’t dare asking something else for his brother who had hated that present for weeks.

He was awful.

All he had was his brother and he hadn’t protected him. He couldn’t protect him…

He curled up and pressed his knees against his chest. He needed to reach the controller to change the TV but he felt weak. He also needed to go in the bathroom. He needed to do something…

The memories were coming again and again in his mind. He curled up more. He felt so bad.

“G… Ga… Gavin?”

The Android appeared pretty quickly and jumped when he saw the tears rolling on his cheeks. He rushed to him and pressed his vest on them.

“That’s okay,” he said.

“Can… can you… change… the channel?”

“Lol cats?”

Niles nodded.

The TV changed to funny videos with cat.

“Nightmare?” the Android asked.

Niles shook his head. “I hate dolphin.”

“Those motherphcker!”

“Yeah,” he said under his breath.

“You should watch a reporting where they’re killed by Japanese!”

The man forced himself to smile just a tiny bit but it was hard. So he just pressed his head on his arms.

“I made hot cocoa for you.”

“I’m not hungry.” He snored, curling up.

The tears were still rolling, he felt so bad. So bad. He didn’t have cry for weeks and now he cried two days one after the other…

“Sin… Since when are you there? I can’t remember…”

“Five days.”

Niles looked him without a word, his eyes still wet and letting tears coming.

“You know what? I’ll keep the tracking! Look that!” Gavin left the room and came back with a tiny board you could erase and write back it.

In was on the refrigerator.

It was a present from Connor.

Gavin wrote ‘I’m here since’ and then ‘Days’ a bit lower. He crouched in front of the man and gave him the marker.

“Can you?”

“I’ll try…”

Niles took the marker in his shaking hand and moved it on the board. The five was weird but there.

“Great job!”

The man didn’t think so and he put down the marker. He closed his eyes, didn’t dare to ask Gavin for helping him to go in the bathroom.

“Can you… I’m okay for the cocoa,” he said.

It will be easier for him to go on the bathroom that way…

“Nice! I go get it!”

The kitchen wasn’t so far away so Gavin reach it pretty quickly and from there, he could hear a sound of the floor. He turned his head and saw Niles on the floor, moving toward the bathroom. He wanted to help him but knew also it was a bad idea so he stayed there. Moving things and doing like he was busy.

And Niles needed a lot of time. He didn’t care. He looked lol cats from there, tidy up things, came at the windows to look the car moving around, asking himself how the Human was doing, stretched himself even if he didn’t need it. He came back to the mug and touched it to see if it needed to be warmed.

From the corner of his eyes, and some processing and probability stuff, he could see Niles coming back. In fact, he could see a lot of things. He was Elijah Kamski’s best prototype few years before.

How did he end like that?

When he saw Niles coming at the sofa, and struggling, he moved to him. He stopped in front of him and smiled widely.

“Well, well, well,” he teased. “You fall from the sofa, now?”

He put down the cocoa on the coffee table. It was colder, of course.

Gavin bent and took him in his arms to install him in the sofa, throwing him a cocky smile.

Niles thought it was less humiliating that way. A bit. He still hated himself…

“Here come the cocoa. I didn’t put too much for your tiny cuty belly.”

“Hm…”

“You asked for it,” Gavin said, sitting next to him.

Niles moved from an inch to let him a bit of room.

Gavin looked him and then took the cocoa and handed it to him. The man looked the mug but didn’t reach for him.

“You asked for it.”

“I’m good.”

Gavin knew from almost he beginning it was a trap for him to go in the bathroom without feeling ashamed but he still hoped. He looked the brown liquid then the Human.

“I drink, you drink?” he said.

Niles watched him. He didn’t want to drink, at all. Yesterday, he had made well enough effort for a day. For a week! For the eternity!

God, he hated himself. So much. He glanced to the TV and seeing a cat fall from a window, toward the living room, he felt the need to try to from the window. Toward the street.

Something was wrong with him. Really wrong. He felt something creeping under his skin. A tiny but so cruel voice saying to him he was a terrible person because he couldn’t move anymore after so little…

“Yeah…” he forced himself to say, wanting to kill the little voice.

He straightened a bit and Gavin knelt near him to offer the first sip. He took the second one, thinking how he’ll throw this up without alarming Niles. But now… he’ll enjoy the short moment with him. Watching him sip a bit was nice even though the man looked deeply annoyed to drink…

How could he cheer up the Human? He hadn’t the tiniest clue…

 The cup was emptied in few sips and Gavin got up to clean it and find a solution before the liquid start to attack his circuits.

Ah!

“I’ll take the trash out! I’m coming back.”

“Yeah.”

Soon enough, the Android got out.

Niles was getting drowsy, in the wrong way… the one who numbed his mind but didn’t offer rest, when he heard the door open. He moaned and moved a bit, nestling his head against his arm, still curled up in the sofa too tiny to gather him entirely. He was surprised because he felt like Gavin wasn’t out since longtime but he didn’t have a good estimation of time. No wonder why since his mind wasn’t really in the same dimension as the others.

Or maybe Gavin was already there because he had forgotten something?

Perhaps the problem was the among of trash. He didn’t made his chores since so many time…

“Ah, you had cleaned up. You finally started to move again.”

Mom?

Niles blinked several time. He wanted to look at his mother but just couldn’t. Especially because, soon enough, he’ll fail her. She thought he had changed but everything was Gavin’s work…

He was nothing.

“Since you move, come see me,” she said.

Niles closed his lips. He couldn’t say a thing. He couldn’t say how much he was unable to do it. He couldn’t speak because if he did it, he’ll cry and he couldn’t cry in front of her. He was gathering all his last strength on it. Because his mother haven’t much consideration for him since he was in that state and if he slipped a bit more in the horrendous well he was digging… it will be the end of him.

He couldn’t even look her! If he’d see her eyes…

“Niles?”

He couldn’t. He wanted to hide under the blankets. He was shaking. Please… Please make her go away.

“Is it something?” she said. “If you don’t want to see me, say it. Or is it because you still hadn’t call for having back your job? I saw Fowler. If you’re able to move to clean, take back your job!”

But he couldn’t reply to her.

He was on the edge.

The door opened. And he heard his mom moving around.

“What is that?”

“Well, hello, Ma’am?”

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?” Gavin said. “I didn’t invite you and Niles neither so get the phck out.”

“Excuse me?!” She walked toward him. “He’s my son, I’m always welcome there!”

“Hu… You’re black.”

“And what?”

Niles was even more shaking. No, no, this was bad. He needed to stop this and trying to straightened. Please, make that stop.

“Oh! I get it! You adopted them.”

“No,” she said in a harsh tone.

“So, I don’t get it…”

“Stop…” Niles said under his breath.

The tears were coming. If he started to cry in front of his mother. What to do.

“MOTHER GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

His throat was aching.

The woman looked toward him and he looked away but it was too late…

“It’s not your house,” she said. She walked toward him.

He moved more his head but couldn’t prevent his shoulder to shake, and the tears to roll over his cheeks. Damn.

“I know your brother is paying the rent. You must be ashamed.”

“What?” he said, looking her.

But he couldn’t. His vision was so blurry.

“He paid your rent. You didn’t even notice the money was coming back to your account every month. You’re pathetic.”

“GET OUT OF THIS FUCKING HOUSE!!”

Gavin took the lady and pushed her out. He closed the door with violence then ran to Niles and passed his hands on his cheeks.

“It’s okay, I’m there.”

Niles looked up to him in his blurry face, his teeth clenched. That Android. That fucking Android. If he wasn’t there, that wouldn’t happen. He pushed him with all his strength.

“GET OUT!”

“What?” Gavin said, surprised.

“Get the fuck out of here! I never want to see you again, you fucking plastic!”

“Wh…at…?”

“Do you think you helped me?!” He was still crying. “You worsen everything! I was better without you! Get back in your fucking tube!”

Gavin got up, his legs shaking. He took his hoodie and tugged it in his face.

“But… I need you,” he muttered.

“Nice. I don’t need you.”

The GV200 wanted to say ‘you said you needed me’ but he was afraid now and he tugged more the hoodie.

“GET OUT!!!”

“Yes, Master… As you wish.”

Gavin turned around and went to the door, closing it after him.

Niles curled up in the sofa and cry even more. What was happening? Why? Why his brain was crumbling? Why he was so lost? He had the feeling he couldn’t breathe anymore. But that was a good thing.

He didn’t want to live anymore.

His mother hated him and saw a weak in him, the worst thing ever for her, and his brother was ruining himself! Now he got why Connor was still living with their mom. And he wasn’t happy at all with their mom. So Connor was hurting himself… because of him? For what? He was unable to do the simplest things. He hated himself.

So much.

He really wanted to die. He was a weight for the person he loved the most. If he died, Connor would feel better.

Okay, maybe he’ll be sad, at first… But he’ll quickly see how much he didn’t need him. He was the best twin. He was the kind heart and even if he wasn’t the most intelligent and the best in gym, he was really good. If he died, Connor would be seen as he was… He needed to disappear!

He fell in the floor and moved his hand on the coffee table, seeking for something. The mug? If he hit it very strongly, he’ll break it and could use the pieces. Then he’ll push it in his throat…

But he couldn’t find the mug.

Maybe he could hit his head very strong, and break it?

His hand bumped in something…

He closed his fingers around and dragged it to him. It was something white and quite squarely. Bringing his hand to his eye, he noticed what it was… The board. With Gavin neat writing.

He thought he was a weight for everybody but the way Gavin said ‘I need you’… The Android told him his story and if he was put in a glass tube, he was certainly unaware of the true life. That was awful for him. The way Gavin said ‘I need you’, his LED becoming red. Gavin wasn’t lying. Gavin actually needed him. And he needed him too… His presence was somewhat soothing. He was awful but wonderful.

Somewhere in this world, someone needed him in a way and… he needed him. Why did he say otherwise?

Why?

He could remember he had already talked like that to Connor in some moment but that wasn’t the same… Because Connor would always come back.

Ah, what a jerk.

But Gavin…

He needed to reach to Gavin.

How?

Niles bit his lower lips and rubbed his eyes.

He got it.

He started to crawl toward the door. He couldn’t stand on his legs. He hadn’t used them for too long. But he was crawling so slowly…

He pushed himself, even if he was puffing and huffing. He needed to reach him before it was too late! His elbows and knees were rubbing the floor. It wasn’t pleasant but whatever…

Niles arrived to the door and then looked the second obstacle. The handle was way too high. Rising the hand, he couldn’t get it. Almost but not completely… He rolled and pressed his back against the wall, puffing. He didn’t really eat, didn’t do a lot of sport… how could he do that? Especially with a really poor sleep.

But he must!

He pushed as much as he could on his legs and was now sad. He rose a bit much and caught the handle, opening the door.

“GAVIN!!” he shouted.

No reply.

Of course… he was certainly outside.

Niles tried to get up, pushing on his legs, on his back and holding the handle. He struggled and was out of breath, his legs shaking. But… oh… God! He was standing. He did a pace to go to the lift and… fell loudly. He couldn’t help but moaned.

Damn!

He bit his lower lips and looked the stairs.

Maybe he could crawl on them…

He looked the rail.

Fuck! He could do it. He crawled toward the rail, his knees and elbows hurting him more but also his belly and his legs and arms. And… his face because he fell a bit on hit.

“GAVIN!” he tried as he was coming near the rail.

He moved forward and turned a bit. He needed to sit in the steps…

To help him, he rolled a bit…

Too much.

He moaned and groaned as his body hit the third step. He tried to catch him up but his hand missed the rail and he ended just in the wider step between two flights of stairs. He was shivering with pain, could see the bruises starting to appear slowly and felt the blood in his mouth.

He was so weak…

He could remember the time he jumped through window to catch criminal, ran so much, landed with a roll and continued to run.

He was pathetic.

His mother was right.

Maybe Gavin was better without him? He said he needed him but it was because he had nobody else. When he will be alone and in the street, he’ll understand… He didn’t need him. He was strong…

But… he had hurt him so much. And if Gavin couldn’t trust someone because he had been so awful with him.

He needed to apologize…

Just that.

He threw his legs in the first step and sat. Rolling his arms around the rail he forced to get up. Now… he needed to come down.

And it wasn’t easy at all. Niles was more often on the floor than walking or moving. Well… rolling and crawling, he finished by ending in the hall but he felt pain everywhere and he couldn’t stop having blood in his mouth.

Damn!

“GAVIN!!!”

He went to the first door and did his best to get up. His legs were shivering and when he succeeded to get up, he opened quickly to prevent from falling to fast. Then, he moved to the second door, holding him at the wall.

He couldn’t believe he did it…

When he opened this door, he heard a bunch of voice asking if he was okay. He fell on the floor.

“GAVIN!!!!”

The voices around him didn’t matter. He even didn’t hear them… they weren’t the ones he sought for… But Gavin wasn’t there.

Of course.

And… he cried.

In front of everyone.

After all, why not? He was nothing, a mess, a trash…

[wittyvitale]

A Sick Special Inquisitor (A Fluffy Xenoblade Chronicles 2 Fanfic)

Description: Mòrag has the flu and Brighid takes care of her. A fluffy Mòrag/Brighid fic.

Author’s Note: Thanks so much to those of you who read and/or reviewed The Prince of Mor Ardain! I’m so happy you liked it. I wrote this one bc I honestly love the whole “taking care of you when you’re sick” trope and I thought it would make a cute Mòraghid fic. It’s so fun to write about these two, I just love them so much.

 Ideally I want to post this story and my previous one on AO3, but my request hasn’t been approved yet. It’s estimated that I’ll get an invitation this weekend, so hopefully I’ll get my account soon. But for now, Tumblr and FF.net will have to suffice. Enjoy!

  Mòrag finished putting on her uniform and looked in the mirror to ensure that nothing was out of place. Emperor Niall had requested her presence in the throne room, so she needed to look flawless. As she placed her hat on top of her head to complete the outfit, she heard a knock at the door.

“Lady Mòrag, may I come in?” the familiar voice of her Blade asked.

“Ah, there you are, Brighid. Yes, you may enter.” Mòrag responded, coughing lightly into her gloved hand after answering.

“Good Morning, Lady Mòrag,” Brighid greeted as she entered her Driver’s bedroom. “Preparing for your audience with His Majesty?”

 “Indeed. I believe he wants to discuss Mor Ardain’s prospective trade deals with Tantal.” Mòrag began to cough again at the end of her sentence. Brighid’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.

 “Lady Mòrag, are you feeling all right?” Brighid asked. Mòrag cleared her throat and nodded.

 “I’m fine, thank you. Merely a tickle in my throat. Shall we depart for the throne room?”

 Brighid answered by placing the back of her hand against Mòrag’s cheek.

“B-Brighid, what are you-“

 “Go back to bed. You’re sick,” Brighid said firmly. “You’re burning up, I’m almost certain you have a fever.”

 “You’re a fire Blade, Brighid. Anything you touch will feel exceptionally warm.”

 “Do you honestly think I don’t know the difference between my own warmth and another heat source, Lady Mòrag?”

“Please, Brighid, it’s just a small cold. I’ve worked while sick before. I truly appreciate your concern, but I think you’re worrying too much.”

“But Lady Mòrag-“

“I propose a compromise: I have mountains of paperwork that require my attention. After our audience with His Majesty, I will return to my bedroom and complete said paperwork. I’ll be off my feet and in my bedroom while still completing my duties as Special Inquisitor. Does this sound fair to you Brighid?”

Brighid sighed. Whenever Mòrag became ill, the two of them would always have the same conversation; Brighid would tell her to rest, Mòrag would become stubborn and claim that she was perfectly capable of working, they’d go back and forth for a while, and then they would agree on a compromise that never satisfied either one of them. Brighid wasn’t sure why she expected this exchange to go any differently.

“Very well, Lady Mòrag. But I’ll accompany you back and forth myself to ensure that you’ll stay true to your word.” Brighid answered seriously.

“Do you really trust me so little, Brighid?”

“Under these circumstances, yes. But only because previous experience has proven that you place your own well-being aside for the sake of His Majesty and the Empire. Somebody has to take care of you, and seeing as I’m your Blade, that responsibility falls to me.”

Mòrag couldn’t help but smile after hearing that. “Fair enough. I consider myself lucky to have a Blade who cares for me so deeply. Come. The sooner we arrive at the meeting, the sooner we can return.”

 Brighid smiled back at her Driver, happy that she was being more agreeable. “Roger that, Lady Mòrag.”

 ***

 Emperor Niall, Mòrag, and Brighid sat around the table and were on the verge of wrapping up the meeting. The discussion was very productive and went without a hitch, save for Mòrag coughing a few times.

“And Special Inquisitor, I have one more request of you.” Niall said as Mòrag and Brighid stood up from their seats.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Mòrag asked respectfully.

“Before heading off to your next duty, I want you to go to the infirmary and have one of our doctors examine you.”

“Majesty?”

“You have been coughing intermittently throughout our meeting and your face is flush. I can tell you’re unwell. Please get checked by one of our doctors.”

“But Majesty-“

“That’s an order, Special Inquisitor.” Niall interrupted, using a more authoritative tone with Mòrag. She looked at the floor defeated.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Mòrag relented, nodding her head towards Niall. The Emperor softened his facial expression and tone.

“I know how hard you push yourself. That’s why I want you to get medical attention. Please, dear sister, I want you to take care of yourself.”

 Brighid put her hand on Mòrag’s shoulder and gave Niall a reassuring smile. “Not to worry, Your Majesty. I will ensure that Lady Mòrag is seen by a doctor and gets proper rest the second we leave the throne room.”

 Niall returned Brighid’s smile. “Thank you, Brighid. I trust that my sister will be safe and cared for under your watchful eye. You may take your leave now.”

 Brighid simply nodded, a silent promise to the Emperor that she would take good care of Mòrag while she was sick. Both Mòrag and Brighid turned around and headed for the infirmary.

 ***

 According to the palace doctor, Mòrag had the flu. She was instructed to take a week off of work in order to regain her strength and fully recover. Mòrag felt that the doctor’s order was akin to a death sentence; she wasn’t the type of person who enjoyed lying around and doing nothing. She was absolutely miserable, both physically and mentally.

Mòrag found herself sitting up in her bed, waiting for Brighid to return from the palace kitchens. In the privacy of her bedroom, Mòrag was dressed more comfortably; her long black hair was untied from its usual bun and she wore a form-fitting white tank top with a pair of black shorts.

The bedroom door opened, catching Mòrag’s attention. She saw Brighid carrying a tray with a steaming bowl on top of it.

“A 104 degree fever,” Brighid said disbelievingly as she used her foot to kick the door closed. “The average human wouldn’t even have the strength to stand with that kind of fever, let alone conduct official business with the Emperor of Mor Ardain.”

“Might I remind you, Brighid, that you may be part of the reason why I can tolerate a high fever so well?” Mòrag asked, slightly shifting to the side in order to give Brighid room to sit. “You and I have engaged in numerous battles in which you’ve channeled the full power of your flames into me. I’ve grown quite accustomed to heat.”

Brighid sighed as she sat down and placed the tray over Mòrag. “Don’t try to blame me for this. You and I both know that you’ve been feeling the full effects of your illness today. You just refused to address them because you’re so stubborn.”

 Mòrag was about to object when Brighid took a napkin off of the tray and tucked it into the top of Mòrag’s tank top, fingers coming dangerously close to Mòrag’s breasts. Mòrag’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Brighid, what do you think you’re-“

“Hush. Try to save your voice now. The doctor told you that your throat is inflamed, remember? I got the palace chefs to make you some Argentum Noodle Soup. It’s supposed to help with sore throats, and you need something in your stomach anyway. Now open up.”

Brighid stirred the soup a few times before holding a spoonful towards Mòrag. The Special Inquisitor stared at her Blade incredulously.

“Surely you don’t intend to feed me? The doctor did instruct me to reduce physical exertion, but this is far too extreme.”

“Do you remember our conversation from this morning? As your Blade, it is my job to ensure your health and safety. And I don’t believe that only applies to battle. I also promised His Majesty that I’d take care of you.”

“Regardless, I’m more than capable of feeding myse-“ Mòrag was interrupted by Brighid sticking the spoon in her mouth. Mòrag widened her eyes in shock before swallowing the soup on the spoon. When Brighid removed the spoon, a flash of anger appeared in Mòrag’s eyes.

“Brighid!” Mòrag exclaimed, continuing to glare at her Blade. “Why must you insist on accosting me?!”

Brighid just laughed. “Accosting you? Now I know you’re sick. The Lady Mòrag I know would never be so over-dramatic.”

Mòrag huffed in annoyance, lay back against the headboard, and folded her arms across her chest. She hated losing and she now had to come to grips with the fact that she had just lost this “battle” to Brighid. “Very well. I get the feeling you won’t relent and I honestly do not have the strength to argue. If you insist on spoon-feeding me like an bairn, I’ll allow it this once.”

Brighid beamed at her Driver and got another spoonful of soup ready. “That’s all I ask, Lady Mòrag. You put the burden of the entire Empire on your shoulders and rarely give a thought to yourself. For once, you need to let somebody take care of you. Now open your mouth.”

Mòrag, eyes not meeting Brighid’s gaze, complied with the request. Brighid gently put another spoonful of soup in Mòrag’s mouth. When Brighid removed the spoon, Mòrag had a small pout on her face. Brighid had to hold back a laugh at her Driver’s facial expression; she looked more like a petulant child than Mor Ardain’s Special Inquisitor.

Brighid continued to spoon feed Mòrag, using her natural heat source to ensure that the soup stayed nice and warm. Mòrag continued to eat, pout on her face throughout the duration. In Brighid’s eyes, Mòrag looked adorable. She was half tempted to poke Mòrag’s puffed out cheek with her finger, but she decided against it. She knew her Driver was agitated enough and didn’t want to push her luck; just getting Mòrag to agree to being spoon fed was a big deal. When the soup was half eaten, Mòrag’s eyes moved toward Brighid’s face.

“I must admit, this soup tastes rather good,” Mòrag started, the frown starting to dissipate from her face. “It’s having a soothing effect on my throat as well.”

“I told you.” Brighid replied. “You’ll feel even better once you finish it.”

Brighid continued to spoon feed Mòrag until the soup was gone. The soup had definitely made Mòrag feel better; it reduced the pain in her throat and satisfied her hunger. And although she didn’t want to admit it, she kind of liked having somebody feed her. Especially since that somebody was Brighid.

Mòrag was broken out of her thoughts by Brighid removing the napkin from her tank top and quickly wiping Mòrag’s mouth with it. Mòrag was slightly irritated by the infantilized motion, but she got over it quickly and gave Brighid a small smile.

“Thank you, Brighid,” Mòrag said genuinely. “I didn’t want to admit it, but… it feels kind of nice to be taken care of. I’ve already said it once today, but I’m very lucky to have you as my Blade.”

“It’s my pleasure, Lady Mòrag,” Brighid replied with a small bow. She then gave her Driver a sly smile. “And I’m glad to hear you confess that you like being taken care of. We don’t only have to do this when you’re sick, you know. When you’re feeling better, I can pamper you in many different ways.”

“Baby steps, Brighid.” Mòrag replied, ending her sentence with a yawn.

“Yes, of course. Anyway, I think you should try to get some sleep now. You’ll probably feel even better after a nap.”

“A nap. I can’t remember the last time I took one of those. But yes, sleep will probably do me good.” Before she was able to lay down under the covers, Mòrag made a sound of discomfort.

“Lady Mòrag, are you all right?” Brighid asked, concern in her voice.

“It’s the strangest thing. I feel very cold all of a sudden. Could this be another symptom of my illness?” Mòrag asked, rubbing her hands up and down her arms as an attempt to warm herself. Brighid immediately put the back of her hand on Mòrag’s forehead and felt the strong heat of Morag’s 104 degree fever.

“Yes.” Brighid answered, standing up to get another blanket from Mòrag’s dresser.

“I almost forgot what being cold feels like. The combination of our intense training sessions and Mor Ardain’s high temperatures have spoiled me, I suppose.”

“’Spoiled’ is an interesting word for it. Lay down.”

Mòrag lay underneath the covers while Brighid draped another blanket over her. Brighid could still see Morag shivering through the blankets.

“Forgive me, Lady Mòrag. I know you wanted to take baby steps, but there’s something I must do.”

Brighid lifted the covers and lay in bed next to Mòrag. She wrapped her arms around her Driver and hugged her against her body. Mòrag gasped at the intimate contact and sudden warmth.

“Brighid?”

“Shhh, just relax. Do you feel any warmer?”

Mòrag started to feel Brighid’s warmth permeate through her skin, fighting the chills from her sickness.

“Y-yes. That feels much…better.” Mòrag yawned again. Brighid’s warmth had now become stronger, making Mòrag drowsy.

“Good. Try to sleep now.” Brighid said soothingly, lightly stroking Mòrag’s hair.

“Thank you, Brighid. For everything today. I… truly do…love…” before Mòrag could finish her sentence, she fell fast asleep.

Brighid smiled fondly at her Driver. Her Lady Mòrag, the woman she loved. Brighid felt Mòrag’s soft breathing against her chest and even heard a few soft snores. Brighid hugged Mòrag tighter and placed a gentle kiss against her cheek.

“I love you too, Lady Mòrag.”

[shadowsong26fic]

Index Post

This list will be updated as and when I remember to. My fanfiction is primarily hosted on AO3 (though I do have an old FFN account if you can find it), but I figured this would be a good idea/make things easier to find, especially for the content that’s Tumblr-exclusive, as well as my original fiction which is hosted elsewhere.

Stories marked with an * are complete.

My AO3

Star Wars:

Precipice

An AU in which Anakin Skywalker does not follow Mace Windu and the others to Palpatine’s office after they leave to arrest the Chancellor. As a result, he doesn’t get that final push over the edge, and doesn’t Fall.

…well, that’s where it starts, anyway. Our Heroes reunite with some old friends and pick up some new ones; Sidious find substitute apprentices…the story continues on for several years after the breakpoint, with the Rebellion gradually taking shape and the twins growing up, as well.

Content warnings for war, genocide, strongly implied child abuse (not from any of Our Heroes; Palpatine is raising a child), the Emperor is a POV character.

On AO3

Bonus Fic 1: Father’s Day; Untitled*

Bonus Fic 2: 100k; Margins*

Bonus Fic 3: One Year Anniversary; Secrets*

Bonus Fic 4: Valentine’s Day; All My Love, - A*

Bonus Fic 5: Mother’s Day; Untitled*

Meta, answered asks, deleted scenes, etc., can be found in the Precipice Verse tag

Updates (theoretically/ideally) approximately once every week/two weeks, usually somewhere between Thursday and Sunday night.

I have been on semi-hiatus for the past few months due to getting super-busy at work and then Moving, but I’m planning to get back on track for June, so we should be back to regular updates in the near future! ::...knocks on wood::

Distaff

In which Anakin Skywalker is a cis lady and the twins' gestating parent.

This story’s working title was The Crack AU That Takes Itself Too Seriously. In essence, Anakin Skywalker is a cis girl. So is Padme. Anakin still somehow gets pregnant. She is very confused. Everyone is very confused. And then ROTS happens...

Content warnings for war/violence; also, while no one is, has been, or will be assaulted, the topic of sexual assault does come up a couple times. I believe I’ve left a note on all the chapters where it comes up.

On AO3

Bonus Fic: Mother’s Day; Untitled*

Meta, answered asks, etc., can be found in the Distaff tag

Updates as and when I complete material, does not have a fixed schedule.

Masks

A near-canon AU in which Emperor Palpatine has a daughter.

An In Spite of a Nail AU, for the most part; though I tend to operate in a blended Legends/official canon. For those of you who follow Precipice, this is essentially Lavinia’s story if she existed in a canon-aligned timeline, rather than a true AU.

On AO3

Meta, answered asks, etc., can be found in the Masks Verse tag

CURRENTLY ON HIATUS

Auxiliaries

This is an AU in which Queen Amidala’s ship stopped someplace other than Tatooine for repairs. (The rest of TPM goes basically as in canon–someone else blew up the control ship, I’m sort of handwaving that detail, at least for now).

Eventual ObiAniDala; either Anakin-centered vee or full triad, I haven’t decided. There will also be at least one key OC involved, though I haven’t actually introduced her yet. This is the most divergent timeline I’ve written (or probably will write) for SW, but I have a lot of fun with it.

Auxiliaries is a little different from how my other stories are structured, in that it’ll be told as a series of short fics/vignettes in the overall AU (the title of which will be explained in later sections), not necessarily in chronological order.

General content warnings for war/violence/slavery; anything else that comes up in a specific story will be tagged accordingly.

A Day at the Races: Part One; Part Two [upcoming]; Part Three [upcoming]

                  Around three years after the Naboo Crisis, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is sent on a mission to Malastare, and meets a certain champion podracer for the first time…

Bout*

              Five years after meeting Anakin Skywalker on Malastare, Obi-Wan is back at the Temple, observing a senior initiate saber class.

Updates as and when I complete material, does not have a fixed schedule.

The Phoenix

About halfway between The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, Luke and Vader crash onto a planet that is essentially a typical fantasy world.

A crossover with my original fantasy world, The Farglass Cycle

Content warnings for some body horror, slavery, impending genocide, some mostly oblique references to previous genocide, other violence.

On AO3*

On Dreamwidth*

In theory, there are two other parts to this story, working titles The Caladrius and The Hercinia. I do intend to put them up eventually and have been poking at them off and on, but do not have an estimated completion/start date or anything at this time. So it’s less a hiatus and more a…waiting for the next season to start, I guess…?

AU Outlines

Heralds of Star Wars (Jedi of Valdemar?)

              Crossover/fusion with the Heralds of Valdemar series.

The Rabbit Hole AU: Part One; Part Two

               Temple-raised Palpatine

Bail Unfucks the Timeline

               Exactly what it says on the tin.

Distaff Variant 1a

               A Distaff AU in which Palpatine’s solution to the problems presented by Anakin’s pregnancy is to poison her and induce a miscarriage because yes I do in fact write AUs for my AUs. CW for discussion of miscarriage/abortion, as well as the same as the main/actual story.

Ventress and Her Tiny Time-Travelling Conscience: Part One; Part Two

               In which ten/twelve-year-old Luke Skywalker walks through a Magic Canyon and lands about a year/year and a half before the end of the Clone Wars.

Everyone Is Time-Travelling and No One Will Admit It

               Okay, okay, so the title is a little bit disingenuous; the entire PT trio is time-travelling (but they’re the only ones), Anakin and Obi-Wan have told each other but no one else, and Padme is keeping things entirely to herself. CW for some portions that could read as suicidal ideation (i.e., the last like ten minutes of the animated BatB movie ‘maybe it’s better this way,’ with a side of Act Five of Cyrano de Bergerac.)

               (Also, I may end up redoing/reworking this one at some point)

Distaff Variant 2

                 A distaff AU in which Anakin decides to go to Utapau with Obi-Wan. Which, if she weren’t, y’know, pregnant, would probably have been the best possible thing for her to do...

Let’s Go Steal a Crossover: Part One (Background); Part Two [Upcoming]

                 A crossover between an AU of Masks!Verse (specifically, the Lavinia Organa AU, the background for which is described in Part One above) and Leverage.

You can also check out the AU Outlines tag

One-Shots:

Sanctuary: Tumblr; AO3*

              Rey wants to find her place in all of this. When she finds a reference to Mortis in one of Luke's books, it seems as good good place as any to start looking…

To his family, send him*

                In a world where Shmi survived, Obi-Wan brings Luke to safety.

It’s Like Déjà Vu (All Over Again)*

                 Three days ago, Padme Amidala closed her eyes for the last time in a sterile white room on an asteroid at the edge of nowhere. Three days ago, she opened them again in a sleek, chrome starship, watching Dorme put the finishing touches on Corde’s headdress, her own weighted braids a comforting blanket on her back.

                Padme decides to change things, decides she can save Anakin this time. Except, as time passes, she starts to realize things aren’t happening exactly the way she remembers…

                   Content warnings for war, violence, referenced genocide, referenced murder, these two dorks and their AOTC angst…

The Magic of Midwinter*

                  A little more than a year after the start of the Clone Wars, Padme, Obi-Wan, and Anakin celebrate Naboo's Midwinter together.

                  Written for JediFest 2017 December Drabbles exchange; Prompt: ObiAniDala, Holiday

These Three Remain*

                  Immediately after the Festival of Light (and Obi-Wan's stint undercover as bounty hunter Rako Hardeen), Anakin and Padme leave Coruscant on impulse, in response to an anonymous tip sent to Padme's office about vital intelligence hidden in a cache of stolen goods. But things go terribly wrong, and they find themselves stranded and injured, with limited resources and no one knowing exactly where they are.

                  Meanwhile, back on Coruscant, when Padme and Anakin don't return as planned, Obi-Wan does everything he can to find them and bring them home.

                  Their situation, dire though it is, forces the three of them to process everything that just happened, and what it might mean for their relationship, moving forward.

                     Written for SWBB 2018.

Untitled Mother’s Day Ficlet*

                       Quick, meditative little ficlet about Shmi and Anakin and lullabyes/bedtime stories.

Original Fiction:

The Farglass Cycle

This one is very difficult to summarize. It’s a big, sprawling fantasy world with loads and loads of characters. The main plot has to do with a war with Feredar, one of the major nations on the continent. Principal characters involve certain members of the Feredar royal family, members of the royal family of the City of Glass, who are primarily fire-mages; a water-mage pirate captain and her lover and sister; a water-mage who was held captive in Feredar...The war is kicked off when a prince from Glass goes into Feredar as a spy, to find out if the situation there regarding the enslavement of mages is serious enough to justify a war.

Content warnings for war, violence, slavery, impending genocide. There’s also a serial killer subplot, and some espionage and murder.

(...I need to get better at summarizing things...)

This archive, as a note, is incredibly out of date—I think I last updated it in December of 2014.

Lux

It’s the thirtieth century, and the Biblical Apocalypse is about to begin. Translator Mariko Anders gets swept up in the action when she meets and falls in love with the titular Lux, an Alien whose species she can’t quite identify. There’s also an immortal wandering around who periodically gets his memories erased, a sprawling human Family that traces itself back a thousand years, the newly-awakened Horsemen, the Antichrist and the Second Coming are growing up in hiding, and, of course, angels—some terrifying, some warm, some a little bit of both.

Basically: the Apocalypse. In Space.

(With lesbians.)

(Archive last updated in December of 2014.)

Battlestar Galactica:

Serenissima

Joseph Adama is the Doge of Venice, which is in graceful decline from its peak of maritime economic and naval power. His younger grandson, Zak, has recently eloped to King Louis' court in France with one Kara Thrace, and a dangerous politician, Thomas Zarek, is soon to return from a twenty-year exile related to the untimely death of a previous Doge.

Between Don Zarek's imminent return and the likely imminent increase in the Serene Republic's long-standing rivalry with the Ottoman Empire, Doge Adama wants to shore up a few alliances. He arranges for Laura Roslin, a widowed noblewoman, to marry his similarly-widowed son, Commander William Adama. His elder grandson, Lee Adama, is likewise engaged to the young daughter of Cardinal Gaius Baltar. The first wedding is to take place immediately, the second in approximately a year.

In Istanbul, the Sultan, John Cavil, is indeed scheming and preparing to launch a massive attack on Venice, while internal politics within his own family and court may not be quite as clear-cut as he thinks.There are spies everywhere, and nothing is certain but that looming problems foreign and domestic promise trouble for the Serene Republic in days to come...

A Total AU set in Baroque Venice, somewhere between 1650 and 1750. One key OC is involved, because I like my OCs. Cowritten with tigerkat24.

Currently more or less on hiatus.

For Sorrow Sung

Nineteen days before Baltar's trial is set to begin, a teenage girl is shot just outside of Dogsville. Helo investigates.

CURRENTLY ON HIATUS

Nothing AO3; Livejournal*

Alternate ending to Crossroads: you never know how you'll meet the end until there's nowhere left to run.

End of Line*

Poetry; stream-of-consciousness in prison, persona poem.

[I believe that’s everything I actually posted; I may update this if I find something else digging through my archives. I know I wrote some bits that I never posted anywhere for various reasons]

Supernatural:

Note: I’ve more or less fallen out of this fandom, so pretty much everything listed here can be considered on semi-permanent hiatus; though I’m happy to discuss them if anyone’s interested.

Heaven on Their Minds

An In Spite of a Nail AU where Judas Iscariot is a key player.

Arc One: Livejournal; AO3*

                  While Castiel tracks Crowley down, looking for the Colt, Bobby finds a reference to a Weapon that can banish anything. Seeing a shot at a Plan B, Sam and Dean go to meet with a professor who might be able to help them track it down. From there, they are put on the trail of Judas Iscariot, who is not exactly what history claimed he was.

Arc Two*

                  It's been eighteen months since Lucifer and Michael were trapped in the Cage, and Sam now has his soul back at last, but things aren't going as smoothly as hoped. With the war between Raphael and Castiel heating up, Gabriel scrambling to keep his old lies from coming back to haunt him, Judas AWOL, and whispers about Purgatory floating around, it isn't going to be easy to keep things from totally falling apart at the seams. Again.

                  Then, one day, Dean gets a call from Jo about an old friend wandering back into their lives...

Arc Three*

                  Gabriel is struggling to control the chaos in Heaven in the wake of Castiel’s destruction. Meanwhile, with Castiel gone, his wall gone, Lucifer and Leviathan everywhere, Sam gets closer to Judas. After all, no one knows psychic pain, and guilt, and the long, hard road to redemption, better than the two of them.

Sidestories

                  These are bits and pieces that take place in the Heaven on Their Minds universe, but, for various reasons, didn’t make it into the main story. All of the ones up there take place either prior to or during Arc One, but reference a significant spoiler.

There were further arcs planned, but I don’t anticipate them turning up, due to the aforementioned falling out of the fandom.

The Promises of Angels: Livejournal; AO3*

Nick has never been anything more than a pawn, and he knows that--but even a pawn, strategically placed, can change the game for everyone.

It's a world full of angels, demons, and humans all fighting for control of the board. And while all he's really playing for is what he was promised in the first place--peace that never seems to come--Nick finds himself dragged back into a high-stakes game he can't afford to lose. No matter how much he wants to break free, it becomes increasingly clear that something buried deep inside him has changed, in ways he can't possibly understand; ways that just might keep him involved in the horrors that Heaven and Hell both inflict on humanity and, in the end, make things better--or worse. Along the way, there are friends and foes, wardens and protectors, and those who would try to use him to shape the future they want to see...

This is canon compliant until, depending on how you’re counting, Swan Song or Goodbye, Stranger; most of what happens up through Goodbye, Stranger could theoretically happen alongside canon events/doesn’t contradict anything we see onscreen, but sets up the significant AU from that point on.

There were originally sequels planned, but as I’ve largely fallen out of this fandom, I doubt they’ll materialize.

Cartography Verse

Named for the Seanan McGuire song.

Moving On*

                  While Dean is in Purgatory and Sam is in Texas, Jody joins a grief support group and stumbles onto a case. Canon-compliant through 10x23.

Compliance*

                  Three years after meeting Nick, Jody learns the rest of his story. Canon-compliant through 10x23.

Fragments: Livejournal; AO3*

                  In an attempt to talk Sam out of seeking Lucifer’s help with the Darkness, Dean tracks down the next best thing on Earth--Nick. As it turns out, he’s closer than they think, and the trace of Grace left in him when he was dispossessed may be vital to defeating the Darkness. Unfortunately, Sam and Dean are not the only ones chasing Archangel fragments, and at least one other person on the trail seems willing to kill Nick to get what they need...

the summers die; one by one: Livejournal; AO3*

                  The aftermath of Hammer of the Gods. CW for discussion of canonical character death.

Avatar: the Last Airbender

UNDER CONSTRUCTION. I’ve more or less fallen out of this fandom, as well, though there’s a chance I’ll get back to it at some point. Almost everything I wrote was one-shots, and they’re scattered around in several different places. I don’t expect to put out any new content in this fandom for the foreseeable future.

I’ll probably dig around and put together a specific link list at some point, but for now, a lot of it is on AO3, some of it is on my LJ, under the avatar tag 

Miscellania

Lighter than a Feather*

               Wheel of Time fanfic;  The night after Rand and Nynaeve cleanse the taint from saidin, Mazrim Taim goes to deal with an Asha'man who recently snapped. CW for murder and saidin-taint madness. Some alternate character interpretations, as well. Spoilers through Winter’s Heart.

              This was originally going to be the springoff point for a much longer AU. I don’t know if I’ll ever write it, even if I fall back into this fandom, but I may take some of the concepts/plans and file the serial numbers off for an original fantasy story.

The Epic Crossover RP OF DOOM

               (I linked the Tumblr tag because it’s easier)

               A crossover between Precipice, Marvel/MCU, BSG, The West Wing, Castle (technically), Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, The Daisy Dalrymple Mysteries, Thin Man, Thrilling Adventure Hour: Beyond Belief, and The Phantom of the Opera.

               Cowritten/RP’d with tigerkat24. OCs abound.

The Blood to be Repaid*

               A crossover between The Farglass Cycle and Pirates of the Carribean

Support of Family*

               Sequel to The Blood to be Repaid

The Hands of Cain*

               A crossover between The Farglass Cycle and Criminal Minds

[flusteredkeith]

So this guy and I did NOT get along at all! He was so down to earth and I was a goof ball. Well our 8th gradeHistory Teacher said got sick of us arguing and said "you two argue like an old married couple" And we both froze up. Cue internal screaming as I saw it was just like on TV! So for a whole year and a half I fought to not like him! We slowly became friends, and when 10th grade rolled around I gave up and decided I could do worse. So I took my anime knowledge and put it to good use.

That is a great story, omg. Classic tv indeed 😂

I figure with a prompt like this, I had to do something for Plance~

(also I posted onto AO3 because it fit the same themes as my other Plance drabble lmao)

She wasn’t here to bond with her team. She wasn’t here to make friends. She was here for one purpose and one purpose only:

Find my family.

So whenever Lance tried to argue with her about better ways to spend their free time together as a team, she always fought back.

“I’m not here to waste time on unnecessary excursions.”

This had to be the fifth time Lance caught her as she was trying to leave her dorm room, her secret lab equipment in tow.

“Un — Unnecessary?!” he spluttered, leaning an elbow against the doorframe to block her way out. “Pidge, Pidge, please. We’re supposed to be a team. And as a team, Commander Iverson always says we should spend time bonding together.”

“I highly doubt that includes going out to pick up chicks,” she replied.

“What?” Lance exclaimed, appalled. “Wingmanning is like the number one way to bond as bro’s.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. As her disguise still needed to hold, she couldn’t even begin to explain why Lance was wrong on so many accounts.

“I don’t have time for this,” she said, trying to push Lance out of the way. Unfortunately, being twice her size, Lance didn’t budge.

“Hunk,” he said, looking up at their other teammate who was hanging around anxiously behind. “Don’t you agree that a little night out in the town would do our team some good?”

“Huh? What?” Hunk responded, alarmed at being asked to give an opinion. He rubbed his neck and gave Pidge an apologetic look before continuing. “I — I mean, sure, it’s always good team bonding to have fun, but how about just hanging around here, on base?”

“Man, you guys are hopeless,” Lance groaned. “Come on, Pidge, this is mandatory. We’re going out.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Pidge snapped. “Now get out of the way.”

“Uh — no,” Lance replied. “Not until you agree to come out with us.”

“Lance, I’m warning you,” she began before Hunk cuts her off with a light laugh, which he then quickly proceeded to disguise with a cough. They both turned to face him.

“What?” Hunk asked, cringing slightly beneath their glares. With a sigh, he crossed his arms and huffed. “Alright, it’s nothing. It’s just that, you guys always argue like an old married couple.”

The comment rang in Pidge’s ears like a maddening offense. Lance looked just as taken aback. If there was anything to piss her off more in this moment, it was this.

“Whatever, guys,” she said, and, taking advantage of Lance’s temporary shock, shoved him aggressively out of the way and stalked past the both of them. “I’ve got more important work to do right now.”

A married couple?! As if.

—

“Lance! Lance, are you okay?”

Pidge hurries over and kneels down beside him, pulling his head onto her lap and inspecting the left side of his face.

“What were you thinking? That blast could’ve really damaged your hearing, not to mention your face, which I know is something you are very proud of—”

“Pidge, your science was wrong,” Lance says weakly. “And you almost died. So I had to save you.”

“How can my science be—?” she looks up and glances around the room full of scattered sentry pieces and her mind clicks. “Okay, my calculations may have been a little bit skewed and didn’t account for that one surprise bomb from—”

“Pidge, just accept you make mistakes,” he says with a shaky laugh. “It’ll make the rest of us mortals feel a little better about ourselves.”

“It wasn’t a mistake! I just—”

“Oh, so were you deliberately trying to get yourself killed?” he counters. “I’ll still forgive you, you know.”

“Lance, I’m…” she trails off, unsure how to respond. She doesn’t know when things shifted from Lance being the most annoying person in the world to her feeling… whatever it is she’s feeling now after realizing he nearly just died.

“You can thank me later,” Lance says with a wink, causing a strange lurch in her stomach.

“What? No, I wasn’t going to—” she blinks before shaking herself out of the weird tingling in her chest. “Of course you would just assume that I’d—”

“Guys, we need to move!” Hunk’s voice suddenly sounds out in their earpiece. “Save your married couple spat for later!”

Pidge frowns and bites her tongue before obeying, taking one of Lance’s arms and draping it over her shoulder.

“Married couple, eh?” Lance smirks. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

On their way back to the castle, Pidge’s mind continues to run. She doesn’t know where along the line that things changed but she knows Hunk’s comment didn’t bother her the same way it did the first time he said it. But as she looks at Lance, bloodied and battered, slumped in his seat with his head leaning on her shoulder, she fights against the feelings that arise in her.

—

“Hey, Pidge.”

She doesn’t need to look up from her computer to recognize that voice.

“Hey, Lance.” She continues to type away. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he says, stretching out his back. By her estimation, he’s only been out of the cryopod for a few minutes. She didn’t want to be there when he woke up because the thought of what he might say if he’d guessed she’d been waiting for him — well, she wouldn’t have wanted to live that down.

“So what’s up?” she asks as he walks up closer.

“You weren’t in the room when I woke up,” he says simply. “So I came to find you.”

She ceases her typing. The air grows warm around her despite the fact that they’re in the cold, giant space of the Green Lion’s hangar as she’s suddenly aware of how close he’s standing next to her.

Her mouth goes dry. Pushing herself away from her laptop, she licks her lips before she speaks.

“Why?”

Lance shrugs. “‘Cause I wanted to.”

He doesn’t say more than that and she doesn’t know how else to respond. Pidge looks away from him, cheeks burning. She wishes he would stop looking at her like that, like… like…

“Do you really think we argue like an old married couple?”

The words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them. She glances at him out of the corner of her eyes to see him give a little smirk.

“Does it bother you if we do?” he asks.

“Well… it used to.”

She’s not sure where the honesty is coming from but in recent weeks, talking to Lance has become so easy that it’s become habit for her to speak her mind in his presence. She supposes that’s a good sign.

“So not anymore,” he says. It wasn’t a question.

Something heavy hangs between them in the silence. Taking a deep breath, she shrugs.

“I guess at some point, I decided to just give up.” She tilts her head up to look at him, her own smirk playing upon her lips. “I could do a lot worse.”

“Pidge!” Lance gasps, his eyes full of mirth. “Are you proposing to me?”

That was one of the things that was so great about Lance. Nothing ever hangs heavy for too long with him.

With a great roll of her eyes, she takes his hand and intertwines her fingers with his.

“Don’t push your luck.”

[bevioletskies]

20 questions [10/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: peter needs a distraction, gamora has a lot of feelings, and mantis is trying her best, you guys.

word count: 4835 | total word count: 118k

a/n: i made a slight deviation from vol. 2, as if peter had talked about their unspoken thing here in the way he had in the movie, they would definitely not be questioning the nature of their relationship or how they feel about each other. no spoilers otherwise!

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

The campus was buzzing the day that voting ballots were released. Director Fury did his best to rein everyone in, remind them that they had classes to attend, but everyone was too excited about discussing their choices with each other to really pay attention. “You kids do remember you don’t actually have a summer vacation, right?”

Peter found it odd, watching campus life happen around him. He still felt like he had an arm missing without his entire team by his side (an analogy he suspects both Barnes and Misty Knight wouldn’t appreciate), joking and arguing and fighting as they always did. And yet, everyone went about their day as usual.

“You really gotta quit mopin’, boy,” Yondu had said to him last night, when Peter had zoned out during dinner and nearly took his own eye out with a fork. “You think Gamora wants to see you like this? And you know Drax would kick your ass for slackin’.”

He threw himself into his studies and working on the Milano, which, to his surprise, was almost completely back to normal. He suspected that Stark had snuck some extra things into their supply locker when no one was looking, because Peter was pretty sure Rocket wouldn’t be caught dead with some of these Stark-branded tools lying around. He also got in some legitimate training sessions in the Combat Simulator and got up earlier to go jogging at the Academy Stadium, and as much as he hated it, the exercise took his mind off things for a little while, enough to let the fog lift from his brain.

Peter: happy five-month anniversary. how’s it going?

Gamora: seems like nebula found us. she sent a team of thugs and we ended up in a firefight.

Gamora: everyone is ok though, but i did slice open one of my hands. it’s recovering

Peter: ouch. but at least you’re making progress. any estimate?

Gamora: hopefully end of the week

“Don’t think I’ve seen you so attached to your tablet before, Quill,” Rocket commented. The four of them were eating lunch together on the Milano, attempting to study for a superhero law exam. Well, three of them - Groot wasn’t actually enrolled in any classes on account of being child-sized at the moment, though he sat with them for support. “Gamora again?”

“What’d I tell you?” Yondu threw his hands up in the air, nearly flinging his pencil across the room in the process.

“I just wanted to see if anything changed, and she said they’ll be back by the end of the week,” Peter said defensively. “Besides, it’s technically our five-month anniversary today.”

“For a relationship that don’t exist,” Rocket snorted. “C’mon, Quill, just give in and ask her out for real. Stop being so miserable about it, she’ll probably say yes.”

“I am Groot!”

“No, I don’t think Quill should sing to her. That won’t end well,” Rocket said, patting Groot on the head. “Good effort, though.”

Peter leaned back in the armchair, frustrated. Exercise, studying, and repairs helped, but he needed a bigger distraction. One that wouldn’t remind him of his relationship that wasn’t real, and the fact that his friends could be dying somewhere far away at any time, and no one would know.

As if to answer his pleas, a voice came in from above. “Hello? Guardians?” For a single, crazy moment, Peter thought it was some god speaking to him (as in that trickster, Loki, not the big man upstairs), until he remembered the comms unit in the cockpit. He leaped up and took the ladder two rungs at a time, eager for something, anything to keep his mind off of her - er, them.

“Hey, this is Quill,” he said, failing to tamper down the excitement in his voice.

“Uh, it’s Parker. You know. The other Peter,” said the voice. “Was hoping you guys were on the Milano, because there’s some stuff going on by the Academy gates? And everyone else is freaking out? Fury wanted to make sure you guys were okay.”

“What’s going on?” Peter’s mind was racing with the possibilities. Had Gamora and the others returned? Was Thanos here?

“Well.” Parker sounded reluctant to answer. “I was telling everyone that there might be some weirdness going on, because of me, because y’know, typical Parker luck. So, uh, Carnage might’ve arrived with some Symbiotes. Along with some of my ex-enemies, friends, and another two of my sort-of girlfriends?”

“…how many sort-of girlfriends do you have, dude?”

“That’s not the point! I just, argh, we’ve got our hands full with the Symbiotes - me and Janet and Gwen and MJ are trying to take ‘em on - and I know you guys are probably super sad about half your team being gone, so here, distraction. They need a tour guide to get ‘em settled in, and the last time I asked Pepper she yelled at me about always being busy, and I’d get Stark to do it, but he hits on everything that moves, so please don’t flirt with Cindy, Anya, or Silver, especially because your girlfriend will kill you, and - ”

“Whoa, slow down,” Peter huffed. He always felt a bit exhausted talking to the other Peter. “Fine, I’ll help.”

“Great! They’re at Avengers Hall right now, so if you’re not doing anything…”

______

Gamora woke up in the dark, slightly disoriented. She blinked for a moment to allow her enhanced vision to kick in, glancing over at Mantis, who was curled up next to her, her toes grazing Gamora’s ankles. Drax was a few feet away, snoring like there was nothing better to do. The three of them had decided to sleep in the common area of the ship instead of their own rooms, admittedly because they were starting to feel lonely in beds that weren’t actually theirs. Unlike Sanctuary, when she had been afraid to fall asleep, it was a comfort to have their bodies close by, the steady sounds of their breathing, the rise and fall of their chests, worries smoothed out of their faces as they slept.

Stretching, Gamora lithely pulled herself away as to not disturb Mantis, then got to her feet, walking over to the loading bay, taking in her surroundings. They had tracked Nebula to Berhert, oddly enough. It was as if she were retracing the Guardians’ stops throughout their missions. As for why, Gamora wasn’t sure. All she knew was that Nebula had been spotted at some military camp nearby and, curiously, hadn’t killed anyone yet.

She supposed when it came to redemption, Nebula’s chance at grasping it was slipping away with every kill she made. Fury only had so many chances he would afford her before he would think she was past the point of no return. It had been a conversation he had with Gamora all too many times before, noting that while Gamora appeared to be both noble in intention and remorseful in past actions, Nebula was a wild card, perhaps too wild. “But we can’t give up yet,” Fury had said, his voice gentler than she’d ever heard. “I know she’s important to you, which is why I’m letting her stay. We’ll guide her towards being a proper hero.”

Her mind wandered to Peter again, curious about what he would say if he were here. They had to keep their text communication short due to limited time, but she had a feeling - no, she knew - he would console her if they were physically together. He was good at things like that - it was why he was their leader, his silver tongue and quick thinking got them out of more scrapes than she could remember.

I miss Quill, Gamora thought with surprising ferocity. His soft laugh, his lopsided grin, that dewy-eyed look on his face when she said something he thought was interesting or funny. It had been four agonizingly long weeks since she’d seen that look. Four long weeks since she’d held his hand, felt the calloused fingers tangled with hers, their shoulders pressed together like they’d been doing it forever. And the near kiss? She simply alluded it to a misstep on both their parts, an impulsive desire that couldn’t have possibly meant to him what it meant to her.

Of course, there were moments in which Gamora considered whether Peter liked her in that way. He had flirted with her constantly before they became a team, and flirted with her every so often in small ways since then. On Ego’s planet, when they had danced together, he commented about how people would misunderstand their relationship if they were to witness it, but had otherwise made no other wisecrack about being a couple or implying he saw her as anything but a friend. As for other instances, she couldn’t be sure if it was any different to how he was with all the other girls on campus. And there were a lot of girls on campus - beautiful, strong, intelligent women who also lived and breathed the hero lifestyle, but without the baggage of being a former assassin.

And that was where the problem was, wasn’t it? Gamora let out a shaky exhale as she mulled over her train of thought. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t deserve Peter, she wasn’t on that level of self-loathing, it was that she couldn’t possibly be Peter’s type. Aside from the surface stuff - dancing, music, movies - they couldn’t possibly be compatible. He was cheerful, warm, emotional, full of curiosity. Meanwhile, Gamora felt like she was an emotional brick wall in comparison, a sullen soul who didn’t see value in seeking out new things or new people. Her pragmatism was what kept the Guardians in check, butting heads with Peter’s impulsiveness more than half a dozen times. They were complete opposites in so many ways.

But damn, she was warming up to the idea of actually being Peter’s girlfriend. It probably wasn’t all that different to how they were acting now - the affectionate banter, the cuddles, the music and movies. Spending time together in a higher capacity didn’t sound all that bad. After all, some of her happiest moments for the past month had been in his company. The only difference was him expecting…more, that is, physically. Gamora had never been with anyone that way before, but she knew Peter had. His confidence alone spoke volumes about his comfort level with touch. And maybe, just maybe, she felt as if Peter was one of the few people she had ever been curious about touching in that way. She could almost picture it now - the way he’d held her close when they danced, or when they’d hugged in front of the Director - with his hands sliding further down her body, his breath hot on her neck…

“Gamora? Is everything okay?”

She spun around, alarmed, warmth rising in her cheeks. For some reason, she felt like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have. “Mantis, you shouldn’t sneak up on me, I could’ve accidentally stabbed you!”

“I am sorry,” Mantis whispered, mouth twisting a little in fear. “Are you having trouble sleeping? I can help.” She reached out as if to touch Gamora’s bicep, but she was instantly swatted away.

“Please don’t,” Gamora said cooly. Then she softened, knowing Mantis only wanted to help. “I’m fine. Did I wake you?”

“A little bit, but that is okay,” Mantis shrugged, moving to sit next to Gamora. “You appear to be deep in thought.”

“Worried about Nebula,” Gamora said, glancing down at her hands. “Nothing new there.”

Mantis’s antennae moved slowly, bending towards her. Her powers had improved immensely since she was recruited to the Academy, now being able to pick up faint empathic signals without physical contact. “You are thinking about how much you miss Peter.”

Gamora didn’t have the energy to scold Mantis about using her powers without consent. Sometimes, it just happened on its own. “It sounds silly, but our ‘anniversary’ was a few days ago. I was considering what to do if people ever find out it’s all a ruse.”

An odd look passed over the other girl’s face. “What if it was not a ruse?”

Gamora’s brow raised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean, that you and Peter have gotten very close over the past month. You have always been friends, but now you are inseparable. You both seem sad without the other,” Mantis commented thoughtfully. “What if…you tried being a couple for real?”

“Why would we do that?” Gamora hoped Mantis couldn’t hear her voice crack the slightest bit on the last word.

“You care about each other very much, you spend a lot of time together, and I know Peter finds you very pretty. Do you think Peter is attractive?” Mantis asked.

“I - what? When did he say that?”

Mantis smiled serenely. “I am his sister. He tells me these things.”

Gamora looked up again, her fingers beginning to tap restlessly on her thigh. Mantis was so different from her and Nebula despite also being taken from her home at a young age. She could only hope Mantis would continue to find joy in the smallest of things for as long as possible. “Speaking of sisters…”

“You are changing the subject,” Mantis said, teasing. “But go on.”

“Sometimes…sometimes I wish that I could detach myself from Nebula. Emotionally, I mean. And I’ve tried, but I can’t do it. I love her, and I want her to see how good she can be. She came so close when we were fighting Ego, but recently it seems like she’s snapped again. I don’t know what caused it, but it feels like this could really be the end for her this time.” She let out a slow sigh. “Quill is lucky to have a sister like you. You are a joy in our lives, Mantis, while Nebula feels like a storm cloud, threatening to strike.”

“I am not perfect, but I appreciate your kind words,” Mantis said. Her face was glowing, and not because of her antennae. “I believe Nebula will do the right thing. She wants to kill Thanos, yes?” Gamora nodded. “Then that is already the right thing, even if she is doing it the wrong way. Killing may not be the answer, but it may be the only choice if us heroes are to stop Thanos. She wants him to stop hurting and torturing and killing people, so that is already a noble cause. She just needs to understand not to kill several other people to do it.”

“I like the way you think,” Gamora said softly. “Thank you, Mantis.” There was a comfortable silence, save for the muffled sounds of Drax’s snoring. She then decided to throw Mantis a bone, and besides, she couldn’t help but be curious. “Quill thinks I’m very pretty, huh?”

Mantis laughed. “Peter has told me the story of when you first met back at the Cosmic Conservatory. He almost walked into a door when he first saw you.”

Gamora flushed deeply. She vaguely remembered that moment, how awkward it had been for him while she had rolled her eyes and resumed the task at hand. It had barely registered to her at the time, this odd, misplaced Terran boy who seemed quite clumsy. Now she wasn’t sure what life would be like without him, though she was getting a glimpse of it now, and it was, frankly, awful.

Gamora [unsent]: i look forward to returning home. i miss you.

______

Peter should have known the other Guardians were going to follow him to the Avengers Hall, despite trying to make up some story that would shoo them away. Yondu had perked up at the sound of more girls, while Groot was simply curious, and Rocket grumbled about how he was responsible for looking out for Groot, resulting in the four of them traipsing down to the quad.

The girls were being checked in by a frantic-looking Pepper, who was, as always, buried under a mountain of paperwork. She looked up when the door opened, poised to yell at whoever had come to bother her, and was surprisingly relieved at the sight of the Guardians. “Oh good, you’re here,” she sighed. “Ladies, these four will be your guides today, since I have way too much on my plate right now. Peter, introduce yourself.”

Smiling his most winning of smiles, Peter introduced himself and the others, reaching out to shake their hands. “Another Peter, huh?” Cindy said upon hearing his name. “Nice to meet you.”

“What a cute little el árbol you have there,” Anya said, pointing at Groot, who was sitting on Peter’s shoulder, idly gnawing at one of the leaves growing out of his elbow. “What’s his name?”

“I am Groot!” he said proudly, puffing up his tiny little chest. Silver let out a little “aww” and reached over to gently pat his face with her finger, moving closer to Peter in the process.

“Who knew Groot would be so popular with the girls,” Rocket murmured to Yondu, watching as the three girls shuffled closer and began chatting amicably with the other two Guardians. “Quill’s gotta be happy about that.”

“Don’t forget the plan, boy,” Yondu whispered back. To Peter, he loudly said, “Should get goin’ before we run outta time and end up late for dinner, Quill! Plus you should prob’ly check in with your girlfriend soon. Make sure she’s still alive and all that.”

Peter turned to shoot Yondu a dirty look before looking back at the girls. “My girlfriend, Gamora, she’s off-planet on a mission right now. But, uh, never mind that. Who here likes dancing? Because on this campus, you would not believe it…”

______

In hindsight, Gamora should have never expected Nebula to be predictable. She told herself this as she went sprinting through the forest as fast as she possibly could, dodging what felt like an infinite amount of energy blasts coming from behind.

Drax was only a few feet behind, being more of a man of strength than a man of speed, but poor Mantis, who was still not completely up to par on her physical training, had resorted to ducking into a particularly thick bush, trembling, hoping Nebula and her team of military goons (and how had that happened?) couldn’t see her.

“NEBULA!” Gamora hollered behind her. “SISTER, PLEASE!” She let out a startled shriek as Nebula dropped out of one of the trees in front of her, landing on her feet with impressively little impact. “Nebula,” she said, struggling for breath. “You have to come home, please.”

“So you do remember that I exist, how nice,” Nebula sneered, lowering her blaster so she could stare Gamora down. “I refuse to continue playing house any longer, not when Thanos is out there. Do not get in my way.”

“You cannot do it alone, Nebula,” Gamora said, her voice pleading. Drax had come to a stop behind her, and Mantis had crawled out as well, tentatively walking towards them. “You know that. Come home with us, and we’ll work together towards stopping him. I don’t even know if it’s possible, but we can try, together.”

There was a stutter of hesitation in Nebula’s footsteps, as if the fight had suddenly left her body. It wasn’t as if Gamora was telling her anything new - she had stressed, over and over again, that as strong as they were, as strong as they could be, there was only so much they could do alone. But Gamora also knew it was a cycle with her - Nebula became jealous, or stressed, or simply bored, and ideas would start forming in her brain, ideas of achieving the near impossible. Even as children, living in Sanctuary, she would become impatient with their other siblings and attempt to kill them in their sleep, desperate to prove herself. It was a foreign concept to Nebula, the idea of waiting, or even worse (in her mind), working with other people to wait.

“Look who’s become something of an idealist,” Nebula said, though it admittedly lacked the heat of her words before. She dropped her blaster on the ground with a loud clatter, causing her followers to exchange slightly relieved looks behind her. “You really think teamwork is the answer?”

“I know it is,” Gamora said fiercely, stepping forward to grasp Nebula’s hands in hers. “Nebula, I know you better than anyone. And you know me. You know how I almost left the Academy immediately after defeating Ronan. I had no desire to stay behind on this planet, with this group of people, when the real threat, Thanos, was still out there. But if there is anything I have learned in the past year we’ve been residing on Terra, is that it’s not about whether you can prove your worth alone, it’s about whether you believe you are better when you have others by your side. I have found that the answer is almost always yes.”

To her surprise, Nebula’s shoulders shook slightly, and there was the tiniest of sniffles, so quiet that Gamora was almost certain she imagined it. “Quill’s awful speech-making skills are rubbing off on you.” She lifted her head, her dark eyes meeting her sister’s. “I suppose I will come back. But only if you promise that we will form a proper plan of attack to kill our father. And that you’ll stop the tree from trying to be my friend.”

“I can’t guarantee Groot leaving you alone,” Gamora said through a watery laugh, and oh gosh, now she was kind of crying, too, “but we can start strategizing. I promise.”

Finally, finally, she managed to pull Nebula into a sort of hug, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, burying her face into Nebula’s neck. She could feel Nebula half-smiling against her shoulder, patting her on the back rather awkwardly. “You have become so sentimental,” Nebula said, half-mockingly, half-fondly. In the distance, the girls could hear Drax crying a little, too. “Let’s go before I change my mind - and I will change my mind.”

______

Upon returning to the ship, Gamora led Nebula to one of the beds, knowing her sister was likely exhausted of emotions and required rest, but was too stubborn to say so out loud. Before leaving, she hesitated at the door, curious. “You were retracing the steps of our Guardians’ missions. Why?”

Nebula became uncharacteristically shifty-eyed, squirming slightly in her spot. “I thought Thanos would try to find you there.”

“You think I believe that?” Gamora folded her arms defiantly. “Come on, what’s the real reason?”

“I…suppose I wanted to understand the life you were living without me. When I was simply the one chasing you down, or being dragged along as your prisoner, instead of being by your side, as I have always been.” Nebula’s head bowed. “That bar you went to on Knowhere, the clearing on Berhert. The Kyln, where you first formed an alliance with your Guardians.”

“Our Guardians,” Gamora corrected softly. “You are a Guardian too, Nebula. If you behave, Director Fury will allow you to join our missions, and we can work side-by-side again. Okay?”

“Always so patronizing,” Nebula said softly, looking back up at Gamora with suspiciously glassy eyes. “Fly us back, already.”

Gamora simply nodded and left, making her way up to the pilot’s seat, a giant grin on her face. Mantis, who had decided to park herself in the co-pilot’s seat out of boredom, immediately commented on this. “You were wrong before, Gamora. You are the best sister of all of us.”

She smiled over at Mantis before moving to start the controls. “Considering the amount of tests and projects I’ve missed in our absence, trying to get her back? I should hope so.” She passed her tablet over to Mantis. “Can you tell Quill we’re returning with Nebula now?”

Mantis nodded, eagerly tapping away. There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes as she focused on her task, while Gamora began their ascent. Drax ambled in casually, settling down in the passenger seat and nodding at them both in greeting. “Gamora? What is this message here in your drafts?”

Gamora felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her, though she knew she couldn’t take her eyes off the dashboard window to get her tablet back. “It’s nothing. Delete it.”

“What have you found, Mantis?” Drax said curiously, leaning forwards to read, his eyes widening in response. “Gamora. Have you and Quill started a romantic relationship for real and not told us?”

For a moment, she felt trapped. They clearly were reading a little too closely into her message, implying that they thought it held romantic connotations, but it didn’t. Gamora just felt it was too…honest, that was all. The only reason she hadn’t sent it, obviously. “No, we haven’t,” she said through gritted teeth. “I just thought that Quill might try to join us if he thought we were having trouble, so I didn’t send it. That’s all.”

“If you say so,” Mantis said, sounding irritatingly delighted at Gamora’s discomfort. “I still think you should consider it.”

______

It was a particularly nice Sunday, the day that Gamora, Mantis, Drax, and Nebula returned. Everyone was outside, sunning themselves, soaking up the rays and enjoying their shared moment of peace, after Parker and the other spider heroes had chased off Carnage’s Symbiotes (hopefully, for good, optimistically, not likely).

The newest spider recruits had taken a liking to the Guardians, it seemed, particularly Peter and his cheerful, sweet demeanor. Cindy seemed determined to stay away from Spider-Man (she had muttered something about spider pheromones that Peter really didn’t want to know about), and had taken to chatting with Peter whenever they passed each other by.

“You gotta have a cool backstory,” Peter told her that Sunday afternoon. “Every hero has one. So what’s yours?”

“I was bitten by the same spider that bit Peter Parker and then kidnapped and held hostage for years,” Cindy said, far more energy in her voice than her words warranted. Peter could only blink in response.

“I’m…so sorry?” he said, confused. “You seem pretty chipper for someone who had to go through something like that.”

“I really like being a superhero,” she confessed. “But at the same time, sometimes people say things that I don’t really understand. I guess it’s because I was locked away for so long, long enough that I don’t really follow the new culture anymore.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Same here! I mean, sort of, I had free will and everything, but being away from my home planet so long meant coming back to a place I didn’t really know anymore.”

“Exactly how I feel!” Cindy was practically bouncing at this point. “It’s like, everything looks and feels the same at first, and you start to think that maybe it’s just you that’s changed.”

“But then you realize you haven’t changed at all, and it’s kind of depressing, because you feel like your life came to a stop at some point and you didn’t notice it happening,” Peter nodded. “Look at that - we have something weirdly specific in common.”

She grinned widely, reaching to squeeze his arm. “Kindred spirits.”

______

Gamora was pretty sure she wanted to sleep for at least five days straight, but she knew she could last longer than the others, who had dragged themselves back to the Milano, to their real beds, the moment they had touched down. She needed - no, wanted, Gamora, don’t get those mixed up - to see Peter so he would know they were back.

As always, Jessica Jones was helpful in informing Gamora that everyone was out on the lawn by the quad. “You might want to give your boyfriend a talking-to,” she had also added, though wouldn’t divulge anything when prodded further. Confused, exhausted, and slightly irritated, Gamora made her way over, only to witness something that made her stomach curl.

It seemed normal, at first. Yondu was sprawled out on the lawn without a care in the world, Rocket was using a water pistol to create a “jump rope” of water for Groot who seemed more interested in drinking it, and Peter was…talking to a girl. A very pretty girl, with dark hair and eyes, who was laughing and touching his arm, a warm smile on her face. “Kindred spirits,” she said.

When looking back on that moment, Gamora wasn’t sure what she was thinking, or if she was even thinking at all. However, what she did know was that Peter certainly wasn’t expecting Gamora to stalk up to him, grab him by the collar, and kiss him senseless. Once they pulled apart, Gamora cupped Peter’s face in her hands, searching, desperately, for that sappy look on his face again.

He smiled at her, eyes glassy with joy, his hands immediately going to her waist and squeezing, a warmth stirring in her belly at the simple touch. “Hey, Gamora. I mi-…it’s good to see you.”

a/n: gamora - goddamn superhero, great sister, kinda thirsty for peter. same, girl.

in case anyone was wondering, the three girls are spider-girl, silver sable, and silk. i thought cindy was a pretty good choice for someone who could relate to peter, plus I just love cindy a lot regardless. also, gamora’s feelings towards cindy may not be what you think, as you’ll find out in the next chapter (hint: she’s not exactly jealous, it’s something else).