#currently drafting a little fic in my head as we speak

[starboyyoongi]

does ateez know how many ao3 and tumblr fics they just helped spawn with this teaser

[st4rbwrry]

𝒞𝑅𝒜𝒵𝒴 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸.

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: sukuna can’t accept that you’ve moved on. thinks you just need some dick to remind you where home is. ;)

warnings 𑄽𑄺 2.3k. fem reader, lowercase intended, she/her pronouns, black coded. dilf!sukuna, fluff + smut duh, jealousy, sukuna's a cheater n we're dumb, daddy kink, body worship, choking, body worship, dry humping if you squint, consensual coercion, cum play, toxic relationship, sneaky sex, minors aren't welcomed!

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜��𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 .ᐟ ꒱; this is very old, originally a self ship but i just wanted to post it bc i have a lot of old fics sitting in the drafts etc.

sukuna clenches his jaw whenever he notices the new love interest in your life, nearly causing a fight one day you threw a cookout for your family and the man you're currently 'dating' is playing football with your daughter, seeing the stranger pick her up and spin her around when she scores a touchdown. it boils his blood to see your daughter smile at someone who isn't her father. sukuna awaits at the doorstep of his home, or 'ours' as he likes to call it, still delusional about your separation, claiming it's a break when it wasn't . . hands tucked into his dark gray sweatpants pockets with a smile on his usually stern face as he watches your tiny daughter run to him with giggles and bratz dolls in her hands. sukuna crouches low to grab her with a purposely exaggerated grunt, commenting on how big she's getting with a laugh.

you slam the door to your car, retrieving your daughter's duffel bag filled with things she needed for the weekend at daddy's. sukuna holds his child at his hip. you smile at her as she constantly pokes at his cheek to grab his lost attention. he couldn't keep his eyes off you. looking you up down with that all too familiar glint in his eyes. you raise your brow, glaring down at yourself dressed in a black maxi skirt that touches your ankles and a white lace top, feet in black sandals.

"what?"

"going somewhere?" he questions with authority.

"my house and back. i can't look nice?"

"you look good," you ignore the way he licks his pink lips, your daughter tapping his shoulder for the millionth time, the four-year-old always wanting to be the star of the show.

"daddy, can we watch bratz fashion ‘ixies with mommy?!" the little girl screeches excitedly.

"mommy has to go, baby," you drain the light from her face, the child frowning. sukuna eyes you.

"why?" they say periodically. you stare him down with annoyance. now she's gonna question me. before you can even speak, she's at it again.

"but we haven't watched it in months," she whines. "we watch it every day with all three of us."

sukuna sighs, rubbing her back. "it's okay, honey. me and you can just—"

"i'll stay," you cut him off immediately, not fond of seeing your daughter cry. his puppy dog act was irritating. he grins mischievously.

your daughter cheers and you lean forward to pinch her chubby cheeks, speed walking to your car to pull into the driveway before entering the familiar home, feeling somewhat vacant. the vibe is off, but a little nostalgic. you haven't stepped foot into this place in months, unable to, the idea bringing back too many unwanted memories. your divorce wasn't pretty; finding sukuna messing with another woman when you searched through his phone one day to find the messages, his excuses replaying in your head, all bullshit.

she was just one night. one night over six years? they were high-school sweethearts, and he tore that apart for a one-time fling. didn't make sense, never will. it's awkward when you stand in the kitchen you used to cook your happy family meals every day to see him make your daughter lunch for her movie, combing at her curly hair with your fingers as she went on about how she ate dyed eggs for green eggs and ham day at school. the movie was the same as usual, both of you sitting adjacent to her as she ate her lunch and enjoyed the film, falling asleep on sukuna's shoulder thirty minutes in.

school must've taken it out of her. sukuna stretches his arms, breathing out a 'finally' which makes you laugh, standing along with him as he carries her and you shut off the tv, checking a text from the man you're currently fooling around with, nothing serious. just experimenting the dating life again.

you home today? i wanna see you.

you sigh, dropping your shoulders tiredly. you weren't in the mood to see him. he was a funny guy, enjoyable to be around, and made your daughter laugh . . .but he's obscenely clingy. you liked your space, and he didn't know the meaning of it. on top of that, the sex was mediocre. nothing compared to how sukuna fucked me. you dissociated with the world momentarily, chewing on your lip as flashbacks hit, zoning out the sound of sukuna's heavy steps approaching.

"she's tucked in."

your eyes lock onto the veins bulging out of his arms, the white tee he wore hugging his muscles, and the platinum chain swinging around his neck making your face hot. dammit, stop. your stare lingers longer than you expect, sukuna lowering his face to catch your attention with a smirk.

"hello? you good?"

"yeah, sorry," you clear your throat.

"check me out all you want baby, it's still yours."

"sukuna," you roll your eyes, locking your phone and finding your car keys, needing to be as far away from him as possible before you do something you regret.

"what? i'm joking," he furrows his brows when you begin strutting towards the front door, mumbling about how your daughter's ballet recitals on sunday and not to forget to monitor her junk food intake. his hand clasps around your wrist to stop you.

"stay. i wanna talk to you."

"there's nothing to talk about."

"are you dating him?" he's straightforward, watching the muscle in his jaw clench.

"that's none of your business."

"i have a right to know who's around my daughter. yes or no? or are you just fuckin' him?"

"why?" you yank your arm away, getting in his face, barely with your height. "does it hurt your feelings? well, guess karmas a bitch."

sukuna chuckles darkly, raising his arm to tug at his bi-colored hair with frustration. "man, you're still on that shit."

you raise your brow with fury. he's shitting me. "on that . . . are you fucking serious? you tellin' me i don't have a reason to say fuck you for cheating on me?"

"all she did was suck my dick, you're acting like i was in her shit," he rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulder with zero care in the world. "i've apologized a million times. it was one stupid night where we were at each other's throats and she just so happened to be around . . so."

"you know what." you scoff, not having time for this stupid shit. men always have bullshit excuses when trying to justify cheating. you didn't care if he kissed the bitch, cheating is cheating. you managed to bypass him, walking around the couch until he was back in your face fast once again.

you clenched your keys in your fists, ready to claw at his face with them. "what do you want?"

it's silent for a moment, the hard stare he has on you makes you feel small, folding your arms over your midsection, waiting for his response.

"i need some pussy," he whispers gravelly, slowly licking his lips and grabbing at your waist. you swallow, trying to ignore the sudden throbbing at your clit. chill out.

"text your other bitch. i'm sure she'll give it to you."

"only your sweet fuckin' pussy," now his hands are smoothing to your backside, smacking his heavy, veiny palm on your ass to draw you closer, squeezing the flesh between his long fingers. you gasp, eyes wide as you feel the outline of his dick against your stomach. his fingers are dangerously close to your pussy. "daddy misses it so much."

you inhale, shifting to try your best and break from his barricade, shoving him away which barely makes him stumble. "i'm leaving."

thinking this is your final attempt at actually leaving, that relief gets knocked down the instant his hand grabs the back of your neck and brings you back to him, his mouth pressed to the side of your neck where he breathes and kisses wetly. you freeze, the ache below never subsiding in his hold. sukuna's lifting your skirt before another word falls from your pretty little mouth, shoving his hand into your matching white lace, smirking from the ocean flowing on his thick fingers.

"you need some dick, don't you?" he whispers hotly behind your earlobe, rushing his tongue there at the same time he circles your clit, falling back into his warm chest, dropping your keys altogether. "he not hitting it right? doesn't do it like me, does he?"

shamelessly, you nod your head in agreement, giving up because you know he's right and this is what you need. you know he can give you things no other man could. it hasn't been the same ever since. any man you've been with aside from him hasn't met up to those standards. sukuna raised your pussy to only come back to him. trained to accommodate him. cum from him. fuck him. for any other man to take possession of what he crafted would be fucking fowl.

"you miss me?" sukuna hums, walking you both towards the black couch in the living room you moved too far away from your previous escape. your knees are dented into the seat, arms thrown over the back as sukuna groans low in his throat, pupils blown with lust as he tugs your panties to sit at the middle of your thighs. he presses his clothed cock to you, grinding slowly to make you feel it, let you know how much he misses you more. "you miss daddy, baby?"

you keen, face buried into your forearms shyly, rocking back onto him, feeling yourself soak his pants. sukuna hisses and smacks your ass again, pussy clenching from the attack. you whine. "yes. miss you."

"daddy misses you too," he's swift with his actions, already tugging at his dick leaking absurd amounts of precum, circling the angry red tip on your entrance before sinking in only halfway, wanting you to remember how to take him. you moan quietly, biting at your arm and taking lead by pushing back onto him, only to have sukuna retract his hips.

"don't be greedy, you'll hurt yourself." it echoes in your head when he says this, smiling cutely, loving that he cared, unlike other men. and he's kind of right. he's perfectly thick, long to the point where it surpasses his belly button. it was always hard for you to fully wrap your hand around it, towering your face whenever he stood over you, veins decorating up the underside. he draws his hips back, carefully driving into you, rolling his waist effortlessly to make you savor every ridge of his cock.

"doesn't it feel so fuckin' good?" he asks with his lip tucked between his teeth, rolling his eyes back once he starts it up, hooking you by your handles and yanking you back as he fucks you, fascinated by the jelly-like bounce your ass makes as you throw it back.

his wife was always one to never hold back her sounds, whimpering and moaning to your hearts delight. sukuna has your back arched with his other palm, reaching behind yourself to clutch at his veiny forearm, the two of you locking eyes as you glare up at him to see him slowly losing it. so much pent-up sexual frustration from not having you for months. not being able to touch another woman since so it pisses him off to know you could easily fuck another man without feeling the same. he's getting mad just thinking about it, clenching his jaw tight as he fucked you harder, deeper. you're clawing at his arm and crying his name, sukuna coming to his senses momentarily, forgetting they had a daughter who's asleep upstairs.

he moves your hand away, entwining both his large palms over your mouth and pulling you back to his chest where your head rests, sukuna standing straight as your back dips even more, cursing as your eyes switch white and you sing into his hands shielding the sweet symphonic tones.

"you forgive me?" he breathes shakily on your forehead, ruts becoming sloppy when that familiar heat twitches in his gut. this he could excuse; cumming too fast just to brush off the burning arousal for you. he'd savor you later on when it truly mattered. he'd make love to you to prove that he still loves you, that he's different now, that he'd never fuck up a good thing again. right now, he just wanted to fuck you so you know he's not letting you leave anytime soon.

your brown eyes are slanted softly, whines and delicate nods of your head are what takes him there, dropping his hands from your mouth, choking you lightly as he mashed his mouth onto yours, moaning with you as you tremble and orgasm. he stays inside you a little longer, fearing that warmth would dissipate if he stayed out too long. sukuna swallows, catching his breath and darting his attention to the way his cum flows out of you after you fall forward, taking his index and middle finger to collect it and shove it back inside. you laugh at him with a silent 'fuck off' and smack his hand away. he grins happily, massaging your backside adoringly. this isn't a pass that you're going back to him. but having you in his presence as of now was a start he could be satisfied with.

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[pygmi-cygni]

Mi Luz - Miguel x reader fluff fic

Content warnings - diabetes-inducing fluff, no smut, kissing, emotional constipation

Summary: Miguel has been struggling with stress, and a soft little somebody can't seem to leave his head. Pining, crush, cute cute cute big man

slow burn for two seconds cause I have no self control

Reader is afab, no y/n, described with having large eyes but that's it

love you sweet thing, enjoy ☆

It was hard to be the king of everything.

That's somewhat what he thought of himself, sitting at the top of his tall but lonely throne, scrutinizing his subjects. Miguel didn't choose this life, it chose him. The bitterness that came with the weight of the world sat thick in his mouth, twisting his lips into a snarl and his brow into a scowl. No surprise that the Spiders around him didn't meet his eye unless to cower in fear.

It didn't bother him. He liked being alone, enjoyed the quiet of his lair - except when his pesky assistant ruined his brooding with her obnoxiously loud voice-

"aw Migs, I thought we were besties..." her pixelated pout hung in front of his eyes.

never shoulda taken you out of the drafts, he muttered, but there was no venom behind the words.

Miguel wasn't a recluse, he was just...busy. Too busy to chat, to 'hang out,' as his younger employees begged. He had shit to do, people to save. Friendship didn't fit in his schedule.

So he stalked through the halls as little as possible, shouldering past cliques and couples holding hands. He didn't need that shit.

Okay, so maybe it bothered him a little bit. Not a lot. Just a smidge. An itsy bitsy amount, if you'll pardon the pun. Hardly worthwhile. Nothing to write home about. Just something that churned in the back of his mind every waking moment of his day came up once in a while.

The irony didn't escape him, how aura sensitivity seemed to be bestowed on the least sensitive man out there. The radiating emotion and color bouncing off of everyone that passed gave him a headache. Miguel had no spidey sense to speak of, no superhuman reflexes, but the minute someone's mood changed, his ears were pricking. Not that he cared.

He didn't care that his chest ached when the sour green of fear laced the aura of his visitors. It was like a switch; he'd walk into the room, and the once shining gold and pastel hues would darken to a nervous blue, thrumming with panic. Some could pass it off, putting on a brave smile for him, but he could see. Miguel could see every shift in hue that betrayed just how little HQ liked him.

But it didn't bother him. He was king of the world.

Miguel's fangs dug into his lower gums as he ground his teeth through the debrief. It had been a shitshow; a group of rookies too unfamiliar with the terrain to do anything other than Fuck It Up. Four of them, Spider-girl 2045, Huntsman, and the twins, Recluse and Widow. All young and stupid.

Currently, all four were talking over each other, auras flashing like disco balls as they bickered over who had the right story.

"I friggin told you, Wid, that's not the right street, it was definitely 45th-"

"Oh, suck my webshooter, that wasn't even the right universe-"

"Would somebody please figure it the fuck out before I send you all back to the void!"

A meek silence followed his outburst.

Miguel was heaving, red eyes glaring down at the comedy of errors beneath him. The kids stared at him with wide, fearful eyes. Shame and embarrassment swirled around them in a sludgy grey haze.

Shit. He did it again, he was trying to be better but they were so fucking annoying and it was loud and his head hurt-

"Go home," he seethed quietly, "figure it out, and come back when your heads are out of your asses."

Not waiting for another scathing word, the Spiders scattered.

With a bone rattling sigh, Miguel collapsed onto his desk frustratedly. Why was he like this? His temper was so strong, no matter how hard he tried to reign it in. Peter had a toddler for chrissakes and hardly ever raised his voice.

LYLA hovered over his shoulder, a knowing look on her face. He nudged his face further into the desk, shutting out her abrasive glow.

"Go 'way," he muttered, teeth scraping the plasticene surface. As always, she ignored him.

"You need help, Miguel. I mean it, hey don't-" her voice went stern as he reached to disable her.

"I don't wanna hear this again," he growled, fumbling for the controls.

"Well, I'm sure these kids don't wanna be screamed at again either, and your feelings are not more important than theirs."

His carmine eyes simmered with rage as he halted. She was right, of course she was right but god why did it hurt-

Shame licked his ribs and he ducked his chin.

LYLA took the opportunity.

"With the new universes we just discovered, there'll be a whole batch of new recruits. Is this really how you wanna run this? Christ, Migs, it's almost better to be independent than deal with you."

At his huff, she crossed her arms. Prancing to the front of his chair, she tapped his nose.

"You can fix it, if you really want to. But who cares if they're saving the world when the world they live in has people like you?"

She blinked out of existence, as a shameful blush reddened his cheeks.

Fuck.

☆ ☆ ☆

Twenty new spiders would be arriving today at noon on the dot. Miguel could already feel the migraine coming on as he discussed logistics with Jess and Peter. Training, tours, watches, all the work was piling in his mind.

"Miguel?"

Jess' sharp tone brought him out of his reverie. She looked expectant, a stack of files outstretched. "Did you hear what I just said?"

His blank stare triggered an eye roll. "These Spiders need Multiverse tracking, so you'll take them to the Center at 2:30, yeah?"

Miguel acquiesced gruffly and snatched the files, Meeting adjourned, he waited for his office to be clear again.

Peter hung back, aura churning with conflict.

Oh boy, here we go.

"Hey big guy....up for a chat?" Peter's eyes were bright but wary, and Miguel shot him a weary look.

"I don't have time to chat, Parker, we've been over this," he bit out.

"It's important."

"I don't care, write me an email-"

"Huntsman is AWOL."

Miguel blinked, fiery words fizzling on his tongue. Impossible. He'd just seen him an hour ago, how could that be? Sighing impatiently, he began searching for the small boy on his wall of screens.

"Miguel."

"What."

"You scared him pretty bad, dude. I know you don't like to here this, and I'll try to keep the hippy-dippy to a minimum, but dude," Peter breathed, eyes worried. Miguel struggled to make eye contact, hating the rare sincerity of his tone.

"I mean..." Peter faltered, gesturing to the door. "Voidspace is no joke. Especially some of those kids, where they've come from...you gotta fix your stuff. That's not cool. Jess and I have been-"

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

"Don't look at me like that," Peter scolded. "You know I'm right."

Miguel seethed out his nose, hands clenching and unclenching around his tablet. god, if only other people saw feelings the way he did, maybe they'd leave him alone.

"I," he spat, "am aware that my temper is...volatile. But-"

"No buts," Jess said from behind him. He whirled. The tension was strangling the air from the room. He needed a break. There was so much to do...

"How you talked to the recruits today was unacceptable. Don't act like you're above consequence," She said in response to his growl. "That behavior is appalling. We can find someone else to do this, you know."

His anger dissipated. She wouldn't.

"You wouldn't."

"If it meant helping the success of the next generation, I would."

Miguel, for once in a long time, felt the sting of tears in his throat. Sensing the shift, Peter gave him an awkward shoulder pat and retreated.

"We care about you, man," he said gently, "but you gotta work this out."

With that, the door slammed shut, and Miguel was alone.

Again.

☆ ☆ ☆

He thumbed the corner of his sweatshirt, damp from his workout. Peter's conversation rattled around his brain. He didn't think he'd been that harsh. He never meant-

He never meant to hurt anyone.

But it was inevitable, wasn't it? No matter how hard he tried, someone always got hurt. His tongue was too sharp, his claws too fast.

Her form, small, clutched in his arms, deteriorating into pixels as she sobbed-

No.

He wasn't doing this again. Miguel stared at himself until he was sure the mirror would crack. They deserved better. He deserved better. It was cowardly, the way he hid from emotion.

Was that what it was?

Was he afraid? Afraid to reach out for it to snap back in his face? It seemed so childish, like there should be something more than the fear of other people keeping him at bay. Gabi was gone. There was no changing that. He knew that in his head, but his heart?

The roiling stew of his emotions made his chest tight. He couldn't do this, not right now.

Maybe tomorrow.

It was late. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. Miguel was steadily working, a slight burn in his red-rimmed eyes the only indication that he was tired. Adrenaline buzzed through his veins, keeping his back rigid and muscles taut.

Another anomaly, another fight, another file. click-click-click went his keyboard, rhythmic in the the empty office.

Almost empty, that is.

Out of the corner of his eye, a soft shine radiated from the doorway. Biting back a sigh, he leveled his tired glare with the figure, mentally preparing himself for one of Peter's scoldings. But as the figure drew closer, he realized he didn't recognize the shimmery white aura or the person attached to it.

"Miguel O'Hara?"

A soft, lilting voice carried from the base of his tower. Miguel blinked, not recognizing the voice either.

"Yes?" He responded gruffly, wracking his brain for who the fuck could be visiting him at this time of night -

"Um...Can...Can you roll down? O-or something? I'm sorry, I just can't really see..." the sweet voice faltered and he rolled his eyes.

Maybe, if they'd waited till a reasonable hour to visit him, his chair would be in a more reasonable position. But nooo.....

Regardless, he began the slow descent from his perch. As he grew closer to the ground, the pearlescent light grew more in focus. Miguel came to the conclusion that he definitely did not know you.

Your expression was patient and soft, standing with your hands folded and dressed in a comfortable sweater. You must be new; most seasoned Spiders wore suits out of convenience. A file was grasped loosely in front of you.

"I'm supposed to be working in the office next door, and it seems I wasn't given a keycard?" Your owlish gaze turned hopeful, and he was taken aback by your gentle gaze.

Miguel had never seen someone with such large eyes. Round and long-lashed, they exuded warmth and an innocence that reminded him of her

No.

Stop it.

"Uh, yeah, hang on a second," He fumbled for his watch and pushed past you, not waiting for you to follow.

His mind was reeling, trying to recall if he was supposed to know who you were. Jess had mentioned an assistant, but he figured it would be someone less....soft. More experienced, that is. Besides, he didn't trust you. No way was he just shoving the fate of the universe in your hands, even though your eyes were nice and you didn't cower when he spoke-

Stop. It.

He exhaled loudly, trying to expel the thoughts with it. You stood next to him, ever patient. Your halo, he found, was still that shimmering white. It was a soft light, not glaring and oppressive like the colors of his teammates. It soothed his headache rather than aggravated it.

Realizing he was staring dumbly at the locked door, he sighed again and slid the keycard across the pad.

Error.

Miguel blinked. He had the master card, it applied to every door, what the hell? Trying again, he felt impatience coiling in his chest. What....

Peter. Peter had borrowed his card to let Mayday out of a lab she'd snuck into. He promised he'd return it by today, but knowing him....

"I can't fucking believe this," Miguel muttered venomously, "he takes the most valuable piece of tech I have and fucking forgets to return it, that irresponsible piece of...shouldn't even be a father, gotta be kidding-"

"Miguel?"

He froze, having forgotten you were there. Humiliation tinged his cheeks. He'd done it again, fuck, he wasn't even trying-

"If it's too much trouble, I can just get my card tomorrow." Your voice was patient and placating.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of how to handle your response.

You were still glowing with a soft white light, tinged only by a slight pink hue. Sympathy. No fear, no ugly red anger or terror at his temper. your eyes. you looked him in the eye. you smiled at him. you wanted to help-

His throat, too choked up with confusion and pity and ugh that he merely grunted and ducked back into his office, leaving your soft gaze behind.

☆ ☆ ☆

God, it drove him crazy. Your patience. Your light. He could feel you from yards away, your glow that was always warm, always kind. Your card arrived safely, and there wasn't another mishap between you two.

Every day, you'd pitter-patter into his office on soft feet and explain the schedule to him, then go through the mission briefs with a gentle tone that didn't falter, even if he grouched about the conferences overriding his lunch break.

He didn't think he'd need an assistant. He could do it himself, had been forever. But you...helped. Your organization was impeccable, finding reason and structure where his brain only saw chaos. Miguel was terrible with time management, but you'd give him a gentle reminder that it was time for a break, or that the work was done and his brooding could be saved for tomorrow.

Go home, Miguel, you whispered kindly, tucking a bag of dessert into his large palms. I'll see you tomorrow.

Well, he'd see you sooner. He liked to think about you. It didn't feel like daydreaming, because you worked together and therefore thinking about you was thinking about work, technically. It puzzled him, how your patience never wavered. You'd heard the stories, comforted victims of his wrath. But your light only burned brighter with him, never dampened in contempt.

He noticed it first at a work party. Miguel hated these functions, found them boring and tedious. Chatting about mundane things while nursing cheap wine and a migraine? He'd pass.

Then, you arrived. Dressed in a soft purple sweater and a long skirt god he loved your sweaters, how warm and docile your eyes hidden shyly beneath your hair. He itched to walk over, but nerves rooted him to the spot. You were tucked against a wall, clearly uncomfortable, and as your gaze scanned the busy room...

you landed on him. And,

you glowed. radiantly, your nervous blue haze shimmered with a soft golden happiness, and you waved with a smile. Miguel swallowed thickly.

You were happy to see him. He, who never gave you more than two word sentences, who snapped and bickered and bit like a hissing cat, made your halo glow so bright it warmed his cheeks.

Nobody had ever felt that way about him. And it was so fucking stupid, the giddiness that made him dizzy. Decency was all it was. You were just being nice. And here he was, a blushing melting mess because you were happy to see him.

He looked forward to you even more after that. Slowly, he tried his best to bite his tongue, to keep the irritation from spewing. Instead, he tried fanning the flames with small talk, stumbling through conversation like a lovesick teenager.

He could tell you were surprised, but you welcomed the change. You would sit at the edge of his desk and talk about random occurrences, silly mundane things that still made his cheeks ache from smiling. How the slowly brightening halo of light around you made him adore you more, even if you had to sheepishly apologize when it got too bright.

don't be sorry, mi luz, he wanted to whisper, I love to see you shine.

Then, inevitably, you would pad back to your office and your light would be gone. Miguel would pout at the loss, missing the gentle glow that made his chest ache.

So he decided to do something about it.

You were revising a plan against the latest anomaly in sector AB-7. His tablet was clutched to you as you curled against his chair. The warmth emanating from your aura made him melt with adoration, eyes growing heavy-

"Migs?"

He hummed, still gazing. You'd picked up the nickname from his AI, and he wanted to curl up in your lap every time you said it.

"You look tired, I'll let you rest." You placed the tablet back on his desk and patted his shoulder god do it again please before turning-

"No."

He murmured it, not quite pleading. You stopped, tilting your head in confusion. "You...can stay. There's room down there, if you still wanna work," he added gruffly.

You didn't say anything, and he felt the words rush out. "It just- it just seems strange that you'd be working in a different office when you spend so much time here anyway, but don't worry about it, it's fine-"

"Migs," you said, so gentle it made his toes curl. "I'd love that."

And hence began the worst mistake of his productive career. Because now you'd made a home in the corner of his space, and your softness was always there, so inviting for him to marvel at. He'd lost hours of working just staring.

He learned everything he could about you. How you weren't cleared to fight, which is why you could afford do dress so comfortable. Fine by him, he'd blow a fuse if something happened to you. As long as he could keep you tucked in his little haven, safe for him to admire, he didn't give a fuck.

Jess would raise her eyebrows at your constant presence, but his heart rate was lower and he smiled. She'd never been more shocked.

He was doing better.

Miguel soon found himself focusing all of his spare attention on you. Buying you sweaters, letting you watch your favorites movies on his widescreen, doing anything to make your light glow a little brighter.

This was....different. he hadn't had this, not for a long while. It made him nervous, a little undercurrent of shyness beneath his desire to make you smile. You were never as forward with him, kind as ever but at a distance. He would take what he could get, though. As long as your light kept shining, he'd bask in its warmth.

☆ ☆ ☆

God, what a meeting. He'd zoned out halfway through, so astronomically exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open. His thoughts were consumed with the idea of taking a nap on the old sofa you'd shoved into his office. you'd be right next to him, reading and playing with his hair, oh god if only the clock would move faster- Miguel almost lept out of his chair when the meeting concluded.

His feet quickened back towards his office, feeling your light trickle under the door.

Oh. uh oh. uh oh uh oh.

He stood frozen, staring at his desk. You had made yourself comfortable in his chair, napping with your chin tucked and hair mussed and he felt his chest grow tight god what is happening to him good christ-

Miguel swallowed roughly and peered down at your closed eyes. Your aura was a soft pink, content and sweet. He wanted to hold you so badly. God, that's what he'd been needing. To tuck you up in one of your devilishly soft sweaters and keep his little light all to himself.

It wasn't lust, his desire for touch. Lust felt too carnal, too vile for you. He would never defile you like that, wanting only to watch you shimmer and preen with happiness. Little light, mi luz, so soft...

His eyes were shining with adoration as he looked at you. He didn't know how long it had been, and he didn't care. But after a moment, he realized sleeping on his straight-backed chair would hurt your back. He needed to move you. Hold you on his lap, he was softer and warmer and god help him-

Taking a breath, Miguel slid his forearms under your curled form and lifted slowly, careful not to jostle you. Whatever love demon was inside keened with joy, and he wanted to weep. As he gently maneuvered you towards your comfortable armchair, he caught a shift in your body. Freezing again, he waited for you to finish squirming, finally settling with your head tucked in his neck.

And oh, mi luz

You were glowing warmer now, the faint blush shimmering gold against your hair. Miguel's lips quivered and he began to rock gently. His hands shook with care. He could feel the tranquility rolling off of you in heavy waves, making his eyes heavy and his heart full. You felt safe with him. Soft snuffling breaths against his collar and hands clutched loosely at his nape sent shivers down his back.

He was going to die. His chest burned with the need to shout, to scream with excitement. Finally finally, little soft light, all his to hold-

Miguel might have been squeezing too tight in his joy, because your brow pinched and you mewled in discomfort. He immediately hushed you, coaxing you back into golden sleep. Crooking his elbow so you laid comfortably over his shoulder.

"Sleep, mi luz, I have you. I have you," he cooed, nudging his nose into your jaw. You sighed contentedly and murmured a good night as he gently laid with you in the armchair. He buried his face in your hair, shivering with the warmth that enveloped him.

☆ ☆ ☆

Wherever this was, he never wanted to leave. Miguel felt syrupy and languid, wrapped in a cocoon of something that felt divinely warm and safe and

"Migs?"

A rustle, and the lovely bundle in his arms blinked blearily at him. His lovestruck eyes shone down at his little love, and he smiled gently.

"Hi, dovey," he murmured, rubbing your back, "sleep well?"

You nodded and scooted up, seated fully against his chest. Your aura pulsed sluggishly, dripping like honey. Miguel was too busy sweetly nosing your cheek to notice the hues dancing around your head. still half-asleep, you purred happily, dozing gently against his warm neck. Miguel kept up, suckling gently behind your ear and across your lips and everywhere he could reach without waking you. He could do this for hours.

The warmth was beginning to singe his hair though, and he hissed gently.

"Mi luz," he whispered, trying as gently as possible to rouse you. You whined at the wake-up, doe eyes drowsy and unfocused.

"Your halo, mi sol," he whispered, pecking your cheek, "getting a little warm is all."

you blushed, quickly dampening the shining haze of love you had blanketed over the both of you. Miguel grunted and laid his head back again. You followed suit, curling against him as close as possible.

'love you,' your lips murmured into his skin.

'mi luz,' he said reverently, and his soft mouth soothed you back to sleep.

that's all folks! might do some lil drabbles off of this but idk yet. hope you enjoyed, requests are open, ilysm xox

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma @iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world @ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @migueloharasbbm @ridiculous-hibiscus @seeeuspaceecowboyyy @neeshsoodrippedout @llumetrii @iminloveweveryone

tags, comment to join

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

hey could I be 🦕, if it's not taken?

I also have a request lol, could u do a meltdown comfort fic? ( definitely not requesting this be I had a meltdown over not having the right pasta sauce for my comfort/safe food) like where a male reader has a bunch of little things built up and it spills over when there's no more of readers comfort/safe food and they end up lashing out and having a meltdown because of it

anyways have a good evening,thx!

Hiya, I'm really sorry thats taken 😔 (I need to make a list lmao) - assuming you're not the other 🦕 anon currently in my drafts 😅

I hope this is okay, I don't have autism or meltdowns, so feel free to let me know if I've gotten anything wrong. I don't think the reader in this has a meltdown, he was distressed and then stims to regulate his emotions. But yeah, feel free to let me know if I get anything wrong, I don't want to offend anyone or anything.

Warnings: reader is distressed, meltdown

"(Y/N)? What's wrong-"

"Can you just fuck off?!" Everyone falls silent as the words burst from your mouth. You immediately look down, mentally scolding yourself for yelling at Hotch like that. Hotch. Of all people. Who had been nothing but kind to you since you joined. Who always made sure you were okay. Who was also your boss. "I- I'm sorry-" Your voice is quiet and Hotch has to strain his ears to hear you.

Instead of yelling, like everyone assumed he would, his gaze softens as he looks at you. "How about we head up to my office for a few minutes, okay?" His voice is reassuring and is doing nothing for your guilt and the dread for what he would say when it was just the two of you.

You hadn't meant to snap at him, but everything had just built up and built up and it was your tipping point. You should have just gone home.

It had started this morning when it turns out you had run out of milk - meaning you couldn't have cereal and a cup of coffee for breakfast. Then, you couldn't find the socks you had planned on wearing, you missed the early bus because of how long you had tried to find the socks you wanted to wear, and that made you almost late for work. And then, when you opened the fridge, it turns out someone had eaten the last of your safe foods you kept stocked up in the fridge.

You knew no one on the team would have taken it, they knew you were particular about your food (that's how you had worded it when you first joined the team - they knew the reasoning behind it now, of course but its still how you described it). And they always tried their best to make sure that you had food in the fridge that you liked.

You follow him to his office silently, you don't miss the look he shoots the rest of the team - who quickly make themselves look busy. So you don't feel more on edge than you already do. Your heart twinges at this. You had just yelled at him and here he was, being incredibly sweet to you.

When you reach his office, he shuts the door gently behind him and motions to the couch, you sit. "You don't have to speak until you're ready, whatever you need to do to help regulate your emotions is okay."

You take a moment to process his words before you give a small nod. It takes a few seconds before you gently start to rock, humming gently to yourself. Hotch sits down on the couch, at the other end. He wanted you to know he was there if you needed him, but enough space to do what you needed to. He slowly picked up the book on the coffee table, flicking to the page he was currently on.

Eventually, when your stimming comes to an end, Hotch closes the book. He had been keeping a close eye on you, not really paying attention to the book. He had just wanted to make you comfortable.

"You weren't reading," You state quietly.

"I wasn't," Hotch says with a nod.

"Thank you," You reply. You knew what he was doing - he had done it a few times during similar situations.

"That's alright," He gives a small (rare) smile, "Did you want to talk about what's going on?"

"It's just been a bad day." You shrug, "No coffee, no breakfast, wrong socks, and now no safe food," You felt your cheeks tint pink ever so slightly in embarrassment.

Hotch just nods, "I understand. What snack in particular were you craving?"

"I wanted a chocolate muffin," You shrugged, running a hand over your face. All you could think about was how stupid this all was.

"Is that the Starbucks one?" When you nod, Hotch smiles slightly and rummages about in his desk. "I had a feeling that this might happen at some point. So I stocked up on your safe foods." He said, pulling out a muffin. "There you go. As for drinks, take whatever you fancy,"

You look up, eyes slightly wide at the unexpected kindness. "Thank you,"

"That's alright, and (Y/N)?"

"Yeah?"

"Anytime you're feeling overwhelmed, or if the day isn't going quite right, you're more than welcome to come sit up here, okay?"

"Okay."

[zqombi]

ORAL FIXATION ☆ FT MIGUEL O'HARA.

★. masterlist ᡣ𐭩

☆. headcannons for miguel ! coming soon…

★. currently listening to… ON DAT BXTCH - LUMI ATHENA

☆. this fic contains… intentional lowercase. everyone is 18+ ! miguel o’hara x reader. fem bodied reader. blackcoded but anyone can read it. chubby!reader. spiderwoman!reader. reader wears a pink spider suit. miguel calls you spiderbarbie as a insult because of your suit. miguel o’hara. miguel has a nose piercing. also has salt/pepper brown hair because he be stressin’. miguel speaks spanish. masterbation (fem.) kissing. pet names. hair pulling. throat fucking. heavy dirty talk. not proofread so mistakes are def present .

★. summary… you’ve always had a persistent oral fixation. since you were small you always had your mouth on something, but miguel wants to help fix that nasty habit once and for all. (I’m terrible at descriptions.)

☆. word count aprox… 2k.

★. notes… hi! I’m kinda back into the writing scene? I originally posted this on a03 but decided to also move it here for some reason, just with a couple of tweaks. Hopefully during the summer I can write more and produce some more fics/head cannons or whatever. Main goal rn is to clean out my drafts to declutter. Until then, see ya later ! <3

one of the many, many strange things about miguel o’hara was his attention to detail. his keen observation and good memory grants him the ability to notice even the smallest, minute changes. doesn’t matter if something is slightly moved from its original spot or if old paint starts to lose its tint, it never escapes his vigilant, hawk-like eyes, not even you. to him, your sucker seemed like an inseparable part of you, which he was absolutely right about. ever since you were little you’ve always had a knack for putting things in your mouth—chewing pen caps, biting water bottle tops. your bad habit offered a bit of comfort, especially during anxiety inducing moments. gum became a temporary solution, always at hand to help your needs, but over time gum became boring so you moved on to the next big thing: candy. a sweet, textured solution of various sizes that seemed to be helpful. though, out of the millions and millions of options, only suckers stuck: a pink lemonade flavor. the taste left a soft tingle in your mouth which you couldn’t get enough of. you weren’t exactly new to the world of suckers but this one you really liked a lot. like a lot, a lot. the first time you let the ball of sugar rest on your tongue you bought almost $133 worth of suckers off amazon and almost finished them in the same week. between battling villains to regular day job hours, you always had one in your mouth. the feeling of something so heavy and so sweet resting on your tongue just felt so good.

your obsession soon extended to the spider society, stashing suckers in your spidey belt or around the base. there was even a time miguel found some taped under his control pad, which he was obviously not happy about. when you arrived at headquarters your mask was pulled over your nose to expose your mouth at work. signature lollipop hidden between your soft, glossed lips. the candy’s hue stained them a charming baby pink, a shade that complimented you cutely. as you traversed the corridors you greeted a couple of members you happened to pass by—some familiar faces. others new arrivals. flashing them with your gorgeous smile and a wave you continued your way towards the meeting room, you knew gwen, peter b, jessica, patrick, and of course miguel were all gonna be discussing something important. the moment you enter you catch miguel’s gaze immediately. a viscous glare that shows his impatience clearly. "well look who finally decided to show! oh don’t mind us, spiderbarbie," he says, voice oozing with mockery, "we were just y���know, waiting here for you so you can grace us with your presence!" a mean smile sits crookedly on his handsome face. afterwards he formally greets you with a venom laced "you’re late." before rubbing his temples with the pads of his fingers. still standing in the doorway you mock his expression. “i’m not late, you’re just early.” your remark causes some of your coworkers to snicker.

of course, miguel doesn’t like your snarky tone. with a scoff of irritation he rolls his scarlet eyes with a disapproving smack escaping, a sound that’s unique to him. “if you’re just gonna show up late, why do you even—you know what? whatever. it doesn’t matter just get in your seat.” he just bears his vampire-like teeth in hope of being more authoritative but it never works, especially not with you. you move away from the closing doors to your assigned spot at the meeting table. miguel says nothing, his towering presence does all the talking for him. tough, broad shoulders squared in a stance that radiated his disappointment, strong arms crossed firmly over his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit as if channeling his discontent into a physical grip. as the others dived into details of the mission, you found yourself becoming more and more bored with the conversation. It wasn’t long before your focus turned to something else, something more fun. subconsciously, your hand reached for your sucker, the vibrant swirl of sweetness was your favorite diversion. the plump rim of your mouth wrapped sensuously around the candy again.

as minutes stretched into an eternity of plans and contingencies, miguel's authoritative voice droned on. anomalies here, some dimension rifts there with the occasional bickering with lyla about the shared info. you, however, were busy letting your mind wonder, sucking and savoring that not so subtle, lemonade escape. miguel catches the shift in your attention. slowly but surely frustration began to etch its way across his features once again. it was that stupid, rose colored candy twirling in your mouth. while lyla was keeping the others engaged miguel crumpled a old sticky note behind his back and with a swift, precise motion, he balled up a piece of paper in his hand tightly. the tension between you two momentarily thickened as he aimed and then, without a second thought, he flicked his wrist, sending the paper flying across the room. the paper sailed through the air, landing with a soft thud on the side of your thigh. your eyes followed the trajectory back to its source, meeting miguel's intense gaze, his eyes speaking volumes as they bore into yours, he quietly formed the words “pay attention.” but instead of complying, you stuck your middle finger up at him before casually shifting your attention to the projections, a sly smile spreads on your lips. soon the sucker became more like a prop. a deliberate instrument of play. you trace the outline of your lips in a teasing manner, your slow, deliberate movements contrasting with the urgency of the discussions.

throughout the whole meeting miguel tried his best to focus on the conversation but of course he found himself entranced by the dance of candy and saliva. his eyes couldn't help but follow the slick trail the drool left in its wake, tracing its glistening path over your luscious lips. It was an act that blurred the line between innocent indulgence and tantalizing seduction. you shoot a side glance at him, loving the way his nose scrunched up at you and that gorgeous vein on his forehead getting more and more taut. miguel clenches his jaw, trying to maintain his composure in the face of your teasing. as you finally withdrew the sucker from your mouth, his hand instinctively rose to rub his forehead, a feeble attempt to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. the telltale signs of his embarrassment were evident in the deepening hue of his ears, glowing a dark shade of red. as the meeting pressed on, miguel's patience wore thin. clearing his throat, he shifted his gaze away momentarily to the rest of the group. lyla gives one more rundown on the situation at hand before miguel creates pairs to help with the investigation. peter and gwen had been paired off to place more anomaly trackers. jessica was tasked with helping close up rifts between universes. however, when she suggested a partnership with you, miguel's voice cut through like a whip-crack. "i got her." he asserted, his tone firm, leaving no room for negotiation. "patrick can go with you. barbie—" his gaze shifted to you, “you’re with me.” with the decision settled, a swirling portal manifested, miguel took the lead, beckoning you to follow. you were in a futuristic city, similar to miguel’s but this one felt more ghostly. it was quiet, tranquil. rain lashed down in sheets, the droplets hitting the ground with a force that sent up sprays of water. soft lightning forked across the dark, brooding sky, illuminating the scene in stark, brief flashes. the only thing that protected you from the onslaught of water was a rust torn metal sheet hanging about you attached to a brick wall, a dry halo surrounds you that ends at the tip of the roof. the moment the portal closed behind you the proximity changed the tone between you two. miguel turned to you, his eyes no longer weighed down by sternness, but instead ablaze with a different intensity. eyes fixed on the sucker, now sticking to the side of your mouth, he speaks up.

"I see you have a bad habit," he taunts. "and I need to fix it."

miguel tucks some of his silver colored strands behind his ear and wrinkles his pierced nose. “you’re so fucking annoying,” he growls, “you and that stupid sucker.” that's when miguel takes his time, eyeing you as he torturously drags his clawed hand against his stomach, the holographic layer slowly rippling apart. the disturbed film revealed parts of his muscular thighs and already semi hard cock, bulging and twitching. he was huge, veins strewn about like vines, if dick analysis was a club somewhere you would be the ceo of it. using a wave of his hand, miguel was able to remove his hologram suit completely, “i don't like you. you never listened to me, did whatever you wanted…” your legs clenched tighter together where you sat, “but I liked it. still do.” you softly moan to yourself when his hard cock hits his stomach. you needed to lick him up real soon, it’s almost inhuman the way he looks down at you. “keep looking at me like that, amor,” he huffs, “keep those pretty eyes on me.” he guides your face a bit closer to him. you place your hands on the cold, concrete floor for a bit of stability, still sitting on balls of your feet . miguel grabs the base of his cock and rubs the tip on your lips. spreading a mixture of precum and drool across them. “ngh—just fucking—” miguel stretches his arms out as a force of habit, holding each side of your head so he can work his pretty cock in nice and easy. “don’t move your head, please, just stay here,” you can see his earlier irritation start to crumble, turning him into a desperate mess. you keep eye contact with him, placing a couple of kisses on the head before wrapping your lips around the tip with a smile. he was fixing to say something (probably something that helped him fake some control) until you take him further down your mouth.

his thighs twitch as he lightly moves his hips, trying so hard to meet your lips, and when you let him a gasp flees from his agape mouth as you gag and suck. releasing him with a wet pop and maintaining eye contact you ask, “so you like me?” you watch him look around for a couple of seconds before he closes his eyes with a sigh and whispers a soft “yes, yes I like you.” you could barely hear him over the rain but his confession made butterflies dance around in your tummy. with a devilish smirk you slick your puffy lips along the sides of his cock, darting your tongue out and moaning deeply. you remove both hands off the ground to wrap one around the base and the other on his balls. you place on your lips to start sucking on the tip as you work both hands simultaneously. saliva building, bubbles forming the quicker you bob your head and stroke his dick. you heard him huff out soft whispers of ‘si si si, buena chica’ before you switch gears. you release his cock with a loud pop before going lower. the hand that was once massaging his balls was used to support you. you nudge his balls with your tongue before sucking one of them into your mouth, keeping your rhythm stroking mostly the tip, a low growl escapes his pretty lips. “no pares por favor no pares! dios mío, te amo.” from the way he’s howling you know that's his most sensitive area, his breathing is frantic, a waterfall of drool drips down his jaw and some droplets land on you nose.

you spread your fingers languidly, sticky with his precum and your spit, you can feel the blood pulsing in his cock, rotating your hand and sucking the heavy sack as the whimpers that vibrate in your throat travel to him. “dios mío, lo estás haciendo muy bien, amor,” he babbles, “sigue así, sí, sí, sí just like that.” miguel’s eyes are scrolling back. if the universe didn’t know any better you could say that he was possessed. the sound he makes is so needy that it makes your clit throb even harder, you slip a finger inside your spider suit, going lower and lower until you reach the elastic of your laced panties, slipping inside. Using some of your arousal you rub tiny, tight circles on your clit to help the ache go down and your legs begin to shake. you have to clutch onto miguel’s thigh so you don’t lose your sense of reality.

when it becomes too much and your clit gets super sensitive, you know you’re close, ending the fun too soon, and so you stop. You let him go, you take a step back to lock at your work. miguel was a mess, hair wildly laying on his head, face decorated with drool and sweat, his eyes are all on you. you could have sworn you saw some hearts beating in his irises. “what- why’d you stop?” you give him your most innocent look. “wanna play with you some more,” you whisper. you go to wipe your jaw with your forearm but he stops you, a firm grip on your wrist. “don't fuckin’ tease me, mocosa or i swear-” but before he could finish you giggle, purposely pissing him off further. the vein on his forehead goes taut again. “f-fuck!” he curses angrily, groaning with pain and pleasure stirring inside. his dick jumping for attention. you pout, voice oozing with mockery, “you want it?” reclaiming your position previously with your hand wrapped around his cock again, tightly gripping the base, miguel’s jaw clenches, sharp nails balling into fists as he tears into the wall behind him. “please, fuck just please- please let me have it. I need it. I need you, fuck, just-” he rambles, pratically growling. without another word you decide to ease the teasing and suck him off as you rub your clit again. you moan out with each rotation, alternating from circular motions to flicking motions. you’re trembling again. your breathing is sporadic, heart is pounding in your chest, you’re close. “f-fuck, { ur name }. g’na cum. voy a correrme en tu maldita garganta, fuck!” he grips the wall even tighter, the bricks slowly turning to powder from the sheer force. he could feel the hitching in your breath, “ joder si, cum with me, cum with me yeah? please cum with me.” and you do. your orgasm almost knocks the wind out of you, and the cherry on top was when miguel released a deep, guttural moan as he came down your throat. after you fully come, you remove your slick webbed fingers from the front of your panties, wiping them on your thigh, before you slide down to your knees. miguel, tired and slumped against the wall, reached out, his hands gentle as he cupped your cheeks. his touch was gentle, caring. "lo hiciste muy bien, amor" he murmured, voice soft, his words a caress against your ears. "you did so, so well for me, moscota." miguel, who’s usually stern and serious, found himself softening in your presence, a strange yet relaxing thing to witness. a small, appreciative smile tugged at the corners of your lips. his exhaustion momentarily forgotten, he leaned down, his lips first brushing against your nose in a sweet, lingering kiss before finding their way to your pretty mouth. It was a soft, tender moment."¿Quieres agarrar algunas empanadas?" he asked, his voice warm and inviting, suggesting a moment of shared comfort in a simple meal. When your head cocked adorably to the side he rephrased his sentence, “wanna get food? know this good spot back home.” before you could respond, jess interrupted, her heavy sigh drawing both of your attention "you forgot to turn off the voice receiver," she said, her tone a mix of annoyance and amusement.

how in the hell were you gonna explain what just happened?

─────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

© SATOTOKii 2022 — All rights reserved. do not modify, copy or claim my work without permission. oh ! and don’t you dare copy my layout, i will get someone to eat ur house ‹𝟹

[the-s1lly-corner]

Shut In (Eyeless Jack x reader oneshot!)

Basic plot: its really cold outside, and you urge Jack to stay in your home with you... he decides to stay despite knowing full well that he will be fine out in the freezing temperatures. You both decide to do things to pass the time and stay warm! Turns out Jack can make a mean cup of hot coco, too

Extra notes: I dont usually write fanfics, and the last one I've written was a personal one from late August... so to say I'm rusty and underexperienced is an understatement! I feel this one ended up a little.. weirdly paced imo but I think I'm still happy with the end result! Dialogue I feel I could have done better on but I'm going to be nice to myself since I mostly write hc posts so this is way out of my comfort zone.. Drafted on Tumblr then sent through google docs to pick up on some mistakes I missed, briefly reread no proper proof reading imo... lets hope this isnt a train wreck + it copied back to tumblr okay!! LMAO

Brief joke about pregnancy/making a pregnancy but its like one small snippet but I know that can make people uncomfortable + implies at least one of the characters is AFAB

Word Count: 2915

Extra Admin's note: I want to say again that I am so so happy about this blog hitting 1k followers, when I first started this blog I was originally going to use it to burn time and have something to do on the side, as well as having a place to put out my cringe ideas and hcs. I never thought this many people would be interested in my dumb thoughts, but here we are! I intend to keep writing this year, and perhaps even make more non-celebratory one shots this year? Maybe? I don't know I guess we'll see the reception on this fic!

It was the middle of the night, around the middle of January. Your boyfriend and you were holed up inside your apartment, you having locked the man up with you after seeing that it was below freezing out, as well as raining. You had to practically beg your boyfriend to stay with you for the night.

Your boyfriend, who also just so happened to be a man eating demon with tar dripping out of his hollowed out eye sockets. Your boyfriend, who was currently sitting still and staring forward, the only sound in the apartment coming from the dripping of your faucet. You had asked him to come visit you, it'd been a while... and he would never ever let you go to his cabin when it's this cold out. So here you both were now.

You pat the palms of your hands on your knees, sucking in one of your cheeks and working the flesh through your jaws for a moment. You were both technically stuck in the apartment now; you didn't want Jack to go out and risk getting sick, and Jack more than likely wouldn't want you to step out for the same reasons. So, you were both confined to what you already had within the space. You were about to open your mouth to speak but Jack broke the silence first. "You're shivering, do you want me to get some blankets?", blunt and almost robotic. He was never that expressive. "Or would you like to go to your room?" He added after a brief pause, his fangs poking just over his lip before he readjusted his mouth. You were both in the living room, sitting together on the couch; the front door to your left and a view of the kitchen to the right. You thought for a minute as your eyes lingered on the kitchen for a moment. You'd already eaten, before your partner arrived... but..

"That's fine, I'm probably going to make some hot coco," You pulled yourself up, stretching up. "Powdered stuff ooor..?" Jack mimicked you. You only shook your head, earning a disapproving look from him. "What?" You questioned, but he only dismissed you. "Why don't you get some blankets, I'll handle it," and he turned on his heel to make his way to the kitchen. "Maybe put on a movie, too, your choice." He added as his voice carried off. "Are you saying I can't cook?" You called back, following after him. No answer as he tugged out a pot. "I'll have you know-" you started once more

"Do you have half and half?" He was already opening your pantry to grab things.

"No, I don't,"

"Heavy cream? Whipping cream? Whatever it's called..." He mumbled as he placed various ingredients on the counter. Cocoa powder, vanilla, salt and sugar. You only nodded, and as he was about to begin working he paused. "Do you want anything else in it? Cinnamon? Nutmeg?" He paused and through gritted teeth, "Coffee?"

It was almost midnight, of course he would be opposed to you having caffeine so late.

"Cinnamon is fine," You watched him get to work. He measured everything out; even mixing the heavy cream with some milk to make a substitute for half and half.... was that really all it was? You weren't sure what you expected it to be, if it weren't..

He pulled his head up and stared at you. It was then that you noticed he had actually taken his mask off and set it at the end of the counter and out of the way. The black ooze dripping from his eyes was slow and posed little threat to dripping into your drink. He had a fistful of napkins on standby to dap his face dry should the flow quicken. "Aren't you going to get the blankets?"

You pat your hands on your thighs, pausing... watching him. His body had a warm glow on him from the old light bulb in the ceiling; it flickered every now and then. Under the yellowed light he almost looked healthy and alive, though there was no glint where his eyes should have been. His sharp nail tapping on the counter brought you back to the moment, blinking a few times. "Yeah.." you mumbled, defeated at the chance of making a drink for yourself stolen from you. But was that so bad?

You backed out of the kitchen, dragging your feet across the floor. Your apartment was.. a little on the smaller side so within a few steps you were in front of your bedroom door. You didn't really pay much attention to your surroundings as you shuffled through the blankets on the bed.. eventually you settled on just grabbing an arm full and waddling back to the living room, dumping everything you had grabbed onto the couch.

The house smelled of cinnamon and chocolate.. with a hint of vanilla.

Turning your gaze to the tv, your eyes scanned across the DVDs you had stacked messily. Nothing sounded good. "Is there anything you want specifically?" You called out as you settled yourself down criss cross in front of the tv and pulling all the cases onto the floor next to you. "Movie wise," You added as you pulled the first case into your hands. The DVD collection for Child's Play.. you had gotten it a few weeks ago, finding it on sale at your local store. You still hadn't popped it in to watch..

"I have.. Chucky, uhm..." You shuffled for the next case. "All the movies by the way.. I have that and.. most of the Friday the 13th movies," You called out. No answer, the only sound coming from the kitchen was the noise of a whisk gently being stirred. "I don't have Jason goes to hell... But!" You pulled out a third case with the Nightmare on Elm Street DVDs. "I DO have Freddy vs Jason," You mumbled and spread the three disks on the floor in front of you. Most of the disks you had, you noticed, were mostly older slasher movies. Still, Jack hadn't answered you. You pull yourself to your feet and trudge back into the kitchen. His back was to you, too preoccupied with the stove... He hadn't noticed you, not yet. An idea blossomed in your head, a smirk pulling itself across your lips. You steeled yourself, trying to force yourself to stop shivering.. Jack was always paying attention to his surroundings, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

You take a step forward and he still doesn't notice your approach.

Another step.

And another.

Jack wasn't the tallest, in fact if you wanted to you could rest your chin on his shoulder... and that's what you ended up doing, while wrapping your arms around his thick waist. You could feel his body seize up just a little bit against you, before relaxing. "You didn't answer, what sounds good?" You pulled your eyes down to look at the pot. Your drink was nearly finished. You view rocked as your boyfriend shrugged, still silent but the twitching of his pointed ears let you know he was listening.

"Anything's fine," Another shrug as he cuts the heat. "You're the one cooking for me, you get to pick the movie," You insisted. He paused mid-whisk, letting out a soft huff. Suddenly he spun around, his face just a few inches from yours. In the dimmed light his eye sockets seemed deeper, it's black ooze lazily dripping down his cheeks. You noticed the smudges on his face, from wiping the streaks. You briefly wondered what it was like to sleep with them, but your thoughts were cut short as he pulled a blackened and clawed hand to your hair; tucking a lock behind your ear. "How does...." He paused, sucking in his teeth. He looked almost embarrassed. "Bride of Chucky sound?"

"What? Want to study the characters again so we can dress up again this year for Halloween?" You tease. You had convinced him a few months ago to dress up with you. With him as Chucky, and you as Tiffany... It had taken some begging and convincing but you ultimately got him to agree. Although you didn't go out to get candy, you were both fine with staying inside watching movies together in costume. It was also that night you got him to watch the movies..

His ears darkened, before he scoffed. "No... actually this year I was thinking of..." He took a long pause, visibly scraping his brain for names of characters, before seemingly giving up. "Look I don't watch many movies I don't know any.. characters.." He grimaced, before gently pushing you off of him so he could turn his attention back to the hot cocoa. "We've still got nine months, more than enough time to come up with something..." You shrugged, then smirked. "Not enough time to make a Glen... or Glenda," You teased before turning on your heel. You held back a snicker as you heard Jack splutter, finally processing what you had just said to him.

"W-"

"I'm gonna go ahead and put in the disc, I'll leave it paused for you," You cut him off, still grinning to yourself as you kneeled down to do as you had said.

Soon enough Jack walked into the room with a mug, as well as a platter of cookies. "You didn't have to," You mumbled as you eyed the treats, but he only waved you off as he placed the plate and mug onto the coffee table. "You don't have to eat them, but I figured you might want a snack while watching the movie," He mumbled. You took the mug, and swirled the drink inside of it. "I hope I didn't put in too much cinnamon," Jack added as he watched you. He leaned over and started the movie.

You took a sip, smiling a little as the warmness crept in. "You did good, probably the best hot cocoa I've ever had." You offered a grin to him. "That has got to be the fakest compliment I've ever heard," Jack shot back, though you could see the corners of his mouth turning up just slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry! I believe this is the most decadent and satisfying beverage I've had ever been graced with in my life, and-" You began, only for Jack to hush you. "I'd rather you throw it on me, don't... say words like that again," He grumbled as readjusted himself into the couch. You took a sip and shrugged, "It's just absolutely immaculate," and he lightly smacked you on the arm. "I'm never making anything for you again," He snorted, before turning his attention to the movie.

You weren't going to lie, you felt a little bad treating yourself to the cookies, knowing Jack was unable to eat them without upsetting his stomach. Being a man-eating monster must really be hard. You purse your lips, and shoot a look at him from the corner of your eye. He must have been doing the same, because he turned his head to look at you. "Do you want to do something else?" He asked lightly, his grin from a few minutes ago already faded. "Do you ever miss eating.. food?" You asked before you could stop yourself. He didn't bother pausing the movie, instead he just fell silent and stared down, into the space between the two of you on the couch.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up, I know it's a touchy subject for you," You mumbled and put the mug on the table. You sucked in the air between your teeth, flicking your eyes up to the movie, before bringing them back down to your lap. It stayed like that for a minute before Jack broke the silence. "I mean... yeah, I do. But at least I don't have to eat every day like you do, means I can have more time to do what I want," He said. Clearly, he was still bothered, tip-toeing around the big.. thing about him. The air was still tense and thick, all of the previous joking gone now. It was nearly unbearable. Nearly.

"You know," Jack began after a few more seconds of silence when you didn't reply. "I've never tried cinnamon in hot cocoa, I didn't know that was a thing people did," He was changing the subject. "You haven't?" You asked, raising a brow. He eyed your mug, but you both knew there was no way he was going to take a sip.

"It's really good," You mumbled, and took the drink, "The combo, I mean," You added. He hummed, patting his knees lightly. You swirled the drink again, watching the... what was it called? Those lighter swirls in the drink.. Did that have a name?

"You've had hot cocoa before, right?" You asked. He hummed again, nodding his head. "Well.. the cinnamon makes it warm. Taste wise.. It makes it.." You took a sip and thought for a minute. "Richer, I guess? It's hard to explain," You muttered, then looked back at him. You tore your eyes back down when you saw he was looking right at you, totally hooked onto your words. "I hear nutmeg goes good in it, too.. but I've only tried nutmeg and chocolate together in baked goods," You shrugged. "You did really good with this, you know... not too much cinnamon.. not spicy, at least." You smiled. He nodded, before turning back to the movie.

"Woody, I hear people describe cinnamon like that," He leaned back into the couch, a dull pop came from his back.

"Woody," You repeated, then took a large sip of the hot cocoa. You put the mug down onto the table, and leaned into your boyfriend as the warmth crept and settled into your bones. You weren't even paying attention to the movie, your mind was now occupied with how tired you were. Your eyes slipped up to the clock on the wall, It was nearly one in the morning. Had it only been an hour since Jack walked himself into the kitchen?

You lean deeper into Jack, not caring about his body's natural chill. His clothing still smelled a little like the cocoa from earlier.. "Gotta invest in some cologne, you smell nice like this," You mumbled into his arm. "The cinnamon?" He asked, not looking down at you. "No.. the cocoa, I mean cinnamon would be a nice touch... but you don't seem like a sweet smelling guy, do you?" You muttered. "Are you already getting tired?" Jack asked, and he leaned over you to grab the remote, pausing the movie. You muttered, the heat of the hot cocoa doing way more than you expected on the tiredness you didn't notice you had. "A little," You shrugged, "But we can still try to finish the movie," You offered, but he shook his head. Of course he would, as much of a hard ass or party pooper he came off as, he was going to make sure you were going to get your rest.

You put your hand in his, the one that had the remote.. you unpaused the movie. He paused it, and you unpaused it again. It kind of kept up like this before Jack conceited and kept it playing, although he did lower the volume.. The subtitles were already on, though. "I win," You smirked up at him, before crawling into his lap. You placed your head on his chest, pausing when you felt him stiffen before relaxing against you. His heart beat for a moment before settling to its barely there rhythm. For a minute you thought about asking about his heart, as far as you knew he explained himself like he was becoming a walking corpse... how does that work?

You decided against it, you already asked about him earlier.. and besides, your mind was already beginning to blank as Jack reached to the side of the couch, and turned the lamp off.. It was dark now. It was still raining, you could more clearly hear the drops outside now that the movie was turned down. Plus, Jack was running his fingers through your hair, lightly massaging your scalp. It wouldn't be long until you finally gave in and fell asleep.

"Are you going to still be here in the morning?" You asked, melting into his chest as he hummed in response. "Plan on it, I still need to clean up the kitchen," He added as he curled your hair around his hand. "It'll still be cold in the morning," He added, "I need to make sure you bundle up before you go out for work," He added. "I'm not that dumb," You muttered and lightly slapped his arm. You swear, if he still had his eyes he would have rolled them.

"How do you see? I know you're not.. a normal person, but," You blurted out, lifting your head. He pushed your face back down, shushing you. "Sleep," He ordered, before loosening his hold on you a bit so you could get comfortable. It wasn't an order but it may as well have been with how your body started to loosen into him within the next few minutes, quickly snuffling out your curiosity and questions.

He'd still be here in the morning, you could pester him then. After all, it's what he signed up for when the two of you started to date one another..

[rosedragonblast]

Acceptance

This is a cut out of one of the fics I'm currently working on. It's turning out to be larger than my typical works, so I'm certainly taking my time with it.

Attano leans over to his daughter and kisses her on the forehead. She grimaces, although she does it very pretentiously. Corvo exhales, perfectly reading his daughter's facial expressions. Turning to Daud, the Lord Protector nods towards a door leading to a side corridor. Omega follows his partner as Emily gets up from the throne and walks away with quick steps rumbling through the room. She tries to stand straight, but Daud sees her legs beginning to give way, and the girl gets a little confused in her directions.

— She definitely needs some help. — Sometimes it seems to me that Emily hasn't changed at all in the last fifteen years, — Corvo says, combining a bit of laughter and disappointment in his tone. — She is already a twenty-five-year-old, adult woman. But it's like she's doing it on purpose.

— Maybe to get your attention. She loves spending time with you.

— She's not always interested in these political squabbles. Although, to be honest, they are not close to me either. Some ministers are really incompetent in their decisions. And in order to remove them from office, sometimes you have to let them make mistakes. Of course, they are always under control. But for the well-being of others, even we have to cheat.

— I'm not surprised. High society is filled with such filth.

Corvo continues walking all the way to the end of the corridor, where a solid oak door awaits them. It leads to the usual network of stairs, doors made of the same material, large, ornate chandeliers. Daud likes the atmosphere of this place in the evening. Candles softly illuminate the room without overloading the eyes. The closed curtains with the imperial symbol, slowly swaying from the periodic draft from the open windows, let in enough moonlight so as not to leave the entire lighting function on the chandeliers and candles. The carpet underfoot rustles pleasantly, giving off every step of the shoes. Corvo stops in front of a particularly impressive set of doors. Daud, hoping not to break his neck, raises his head. A carved figure of a gilded dragon looks at him from the top of the doorway. Instead of pupils, two massive rubies stare back at the assassin.

— An import from Karnaka?

— It's not hard to guess when you're a local, huh?

Daud snorts. This information is elementary for every resident of the south. Corvo opens the door by turning the key in the lock. The first thing that greets them is the smell of cleaning soap. They are definitely cleaning up here — the servants are not in the habit of ignoring even unused rooms — but this is not the fact that interests Daud.

— It's so...Empty.

— What do you mean?

— There is a lot of furniture, amenities, excellent living conditions. But there is no sense of presence here, — Corvo listens while Daud delves into the structure of the room. — There are no items of minor value here. The fireplace is not used at all, although a heating system and a fire are common in your castle for additional comfort. And the bed looks like it's being made once a week. When they change her sheets.

Attano nods until Daud finishes speaking.

— You're right,— Corvo corrects the wolfhound figurine on the shelf. — This room was originally intended for the spymaster. It was built at the beginning of the reign of Jessamine's father, Euhorn. It was intended for his own keeper of secrets, Sir Alder. But the head of his secret office preferred to be in his residence, and conducted investigations from his office on the third floor. Some of his personal belongings remained here, but after his resignation they left with him. Alder resigned immediately after Euhorn's death. Being a man of the old vision, he did not tolerate submission to women. Of course, female rulers have been seen on the throne before. But that didn't stop Alder from considering Jess an incompetent replacement for her father. Having a good memory, but not being vindictive, Jessamine pretended to let him off this with this trick of his. Then she hired Burrows, who served her for more than a decade.

— And a few years after the start of the investigation in order to eradicate the traitors, a plan about the rat plague matured in his head. And everything went south. — Daud bites his lip. He is well aware of his role in this mess.

— Burrows never had an overly pronounced intellect, — Corvo uses ordinary secular language out of habit, although Daud realizes that he is simply calling the Lord Regent an idiot. — His development, first of all, was hampered by cleanliness and sense of self worth. His unwillingness to connect himself with the people, to lower his self-esteem regardless of his station. Nevertheless, he refused to listen to warnings, advice, and historical facts. The Lord Protector closes his eyes for a while, as if going through his memories. Daud comes closer. Corvo puts his hand on his waist, massaging a piece of skin protruding from under his vest. Omega trembles slightly, but tries not to show it.

— You know, I still remember the look on his face, — alpha exhales. — When I was sitting over his bed, watching him. While he was wandering around the office like a caged animal. He knew he had nowhere to run. There was no place to hide. Even if he puts a hundred guards outside, I'll find a way to get to him. He was surprised at my ability to accurately, bloodlessly and irrevocably get rid of his supporters in the state. There was definitely no support for him among the people. Even if there were any, they probably didn't have much social prospects. He was constantly mumbling, looking over his shoulder in fear. I was clutching his record card. Caressed it with my fingers. I was wondering if it was worth getting rid of him in the traditional way. Or, for the first and last time, stain the blade with blood in the name of revolution.

— You decided not to do it. — Burrows buried himself six feet underground the moment he crossed my path, Daud, — Corvo turns to him, and the assassin swallows, believing every word.

— Crows don't just pick up after others. They sabotage, they lie. They lead animals to certain death.

Attano comes closer, towering over Daud. For some reason, omega doesn't have a shred of fear. Only adoration in the eyes.

— They also make friends with wolves. — With a crow like you, I won't become a wolf, but a chain dog... — Even better. I will definitely need the help of a bloodhound in my investigations.

It's going to be posted both in Russian and English languages.

[questinwitchface]

WIP Game

Rules: Share a snippet from whatever you’re currently working on, and then tag 5 people.

Thank you for tagging me, @sunsetmaidenwrites ! I have my hands full with my 31 Days of Halloween Advent Event right now, and I thought about sharing a WIP from that challenge, but to be truthful, I have been procrastinating working on those fics lately. So, instead, have this snippet from chapter four of The Sequel to The Pirate Fic, which I'm hoping to finish the draft of this year (though I'm currently on chapter 14 out of the 21 I have planned, and I've seemed to hit a bit of a roadblock, so we'll see if that actually happens).

I think everyone I would typically tag in a game like this has already been tagged, and I don't want to annoy anyone by double-tagging them, so if you're reading this and you want to participate, consider yourself tagged by me :)

“I’m fine, Sam,” Bucky repeats, and he even mostly means it. “You should rest with the others,” he adds, looking over at where Rita and Jim are sitting at the base of a tree as Jim bandages Rita’s hands for her. Further away, Oscar and John are sitting with their shoulders pressed together, talking quietly amongst themselves. Steve and Monty are chatting near the back of the group. Kate and Clint are both still standing guard. “I’m alright,” Sam insists. “I was mostly just hoping for some time with you.” Bucky smiles in spite of the fact that Kate definitely heard that. “Did you need something specific, or just to be around me?” Bucky asks, keeping his voice neutral. “I need to look at the map.” “I’m not stopping you,” Sam says, though his voice is tinged with a little sadness. Bucky can’t stand it when Sam sounds sad. He wraps an arm around Sam’s waist and holds him close, then puts the map into Sam’s hands. Sam grins and holds it open in front of them. “Okay, so we started here,” Bucky says softly into Sam’s ear, pointing out where they’d come ashore on the beach. “That was elephant rock,” he adds, pointing to where a drawing of an elephant appears on the map, with words in a foreign language Bucky knows Sam doesn’t speak underneath it. “Mhm,” Sam hums, nodding along. “What do those words say?” he asks, squinting at them as if that’ll somehow make their meaning clearer. “It says ‘the elephant guards the entrance to the forest,’” Bucky answers. Sam nods. “Okay, so we passed that and followed this path here?” he asks, tracing a line that intersects with the river. “Yes,” Bucky says. “Then we turned left, so we’re heading this way, along the river,” he says, tracing that line for Sam. “The next landmark is a waterfall.” Sam nods, looking at where the waterfall is illustrated on the map with more writing underneath. “This is fun,” he says after a moment. “Being out here with you, doing this.” Bucky can’t help a sardonic smile. “We just almost lost someone, and you’re telling me this is fun?” “I’ve always been a little bit reckless,” Sam admits, looking up at Bucky with those gorgeous brown eyes. “I couldn’t tell,” Bucky deadpans. Regretfully, he lets Sam go and takes the map from him. “It’s about that time,” he says. Sam nods. He pulls Bucky into a quick, sweet kiss, then turns and makes his way back toward the others. Bucky turns to watch him walk away and catches sight of Monty and Steve both giving him puppy eyes. Bucky scowls and then turns away from them. They laugh.

[yukidragon]

The Groom of Gallagher Mansion - First Kiss

So, funny thing. I got inspired with a random plot bunny for The Groom of Gallagher Mansion involving Elias and my version of the MC, Coraline. It’s just a sweet and silly story of spoopy fluff that came to me without knowing much of anything about the canon plot of the game. I figured that since the alpha was released on the SnaccPop Patreon today (so you might want to consider signing up if you haven’t already), I would write it out and share my raw rough draft of shameless self-indulgence before playing and seeing what the game’s story is actually about.

No doubt playing the game is going to influence me in the development of Coraline and how her relationship with Elias goes, maybe even totally changing how I’ll go about having them meet and how eager Coraline is to marry a beheaded bloody ghost. It’ll probably inspire me to make another spicy 1st person story about Elias with his living betrothed as well. Still, I hope you enjoy my silly little plot bunny that’s just an excuse to make some sweet vanilla with a hint of creepy spooky fun to keep it spicy.

Speaking of spice, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about the winning fic about Jack from my poll. That’s another plot bunny that’s currently running away from me and growing into something a bit bigger than just the narrator having some spicy NSFW fun with their yandere boyfriend.

While this story isn’t going into smutty territory, I want to remind everyone that the Groom of Gallagher Mansion is an Adults Only series. Minors are not permitted in this fandom, or for any of the other SnaccPop Studios series.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little story about Elias and Coraline that takes place shortly after their first meeting mentioned in this previous post, but before they actually say their vows.

...

The wedding preparations were underway in the Gallagher mansion. Furniture floated into position across the room unassisted. Small wisps of otherworldly glowing blue light hung flowers and decorations while cleaning up decades of dust and cobwebs. At the center of it all was the master of the haunted manor, Elias Gallagher, directing everything to be perfect for him and his beloved bride-to-be.

“No, no, no,” Elias sighed as he shook his head, which floated off-center above his neck. “Don’t hang that painting up there.” He wagged a reproachful finger at one of the little balls of light that had been in the process of restoring the old family portrait… the one that included everyone except for him. “I don’t want to see those ghastly faces gawking at my beloved and I as we exchange our vows to be together for all eternity. In fact, I never want to see those faces again. Throw it out! Toss it in the trash, tear it up, or use it for kindling, but get it out of my sight!”

As Elias watched the wisp hastily scramble to remove the portrait and take it from the room, he sighed again as he reoriented his head back in its proper place. “So much to do, so little time… Oh if only the staff were still alive… or at least if only their ghosts decided to stay and haunt this place as well.” He paused for a moment as the years of loneliness crept up on him. “At least then I would’ve had some company all these long, lonely years…”

Something suddenly touched the small of his back and ran up his spine, causing Elias to shriek and jolt, sending his head toppling off his shoulders into his flailing hands.

A giggle rang out from behind him, and it was the loveliest sound. It chased away all of the fright and melancholy Elias felt, and he turned, smiling, to face his beloved bride. “Oh my dearest…”

Elias froze as he saw her, Coraline. He had sent her to get cleaned up after those brutes covered her in fake blood not too long ago. He thought her lovely when he first laid his eyes on her wearing a soft oversized sweater, but the outfit he wore now was stunning, a beautiful off-white gown with lace and long sleeves. It wasn’t quite a wedding dress - that would be for later - but the pale color against her equally pale skin gave her an ethereal look that made her seem as if she wasn’t anymore meant for the human world than he was. Her newly braided hair was still damp from the bath, turning it a darker shade of brown than usual except for where it had been kissed with streaks of white. She smiled at him, and her beautiful bright brown eyes glinted almost golden when the light hit them.

If his heart was still beating, Elias was sure it would have stopped at the sight of Coraline, his bride, his fated beloved.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you to death,” Coraline said, her smile growing crooked as her gaze turned apologetic.

“Oh, it’s quite alright, my darling Coraline!” Elias said quickly as he placed his head back above the stump of his neck where it belonged. “I assure you that it’s quite impossible to kill me a second time. In fact, I wasn’t scared at all. I merely didn’t expect you to be finished with your bath so soon.” He paused to clear his throat as his blue cheeks darkened with a blush. “I-I see that you found the clothes I left for you.” He had to take a moment to drink her in, his eyes sweeping from the top of her head to the soft slippers on her feet. “You… you look truly stunning, my love.”

Coraline had to look away as a blush appeared on her cheeks to match her fiancé's. “You really think so…?”

“Of course!” Elias said emphatically. He was by her side in an instant, taking his bride-to-be’s hands in his. “Oh, my beloved Coraline… Never has there ever been anyone alive or dead who could ever match your beauty in my eyes.”

When Elias reached out to stroke her cheek to punctuate his statement, a jolt of excitement shot through him as Coraline responded by nuzzling into his hand and gazing up at him through her eyelashes. Almost on reflex, words came tumbling out of his mouth, all half-formed attempts at praising her that could only form into nonsensical gibberish as his blush reached all the way to his ears and neck stump.

“Thank you, Elias,” Coraline said softly before she turned to kiss his wrist.

Elias squeaked at the action, and he jerked back reflexively out of embarrassment. He instantly regretted it and silently berated himself as he lamented the loss of her lovely warmth.

“Y-yes, well,” Elias said after a moment, fumbling to recover his wits. He cleared his throat behind the hand that still tingled faintly from her touch as he tried to calm down an imaginary racing pulse that he knew perfectly well had already long since stopped existing. “It-it’s nothing more than the truth. There’s none who could ever hope to compare to the beautiful soul who came to free me from an eternity of loneliness.”

Coraline smiled, pleased by both his praise and fluster. “You’re the most dazzling soul I’ve ever met too.” She paused for a moment and chuckled as her smile turned lopsided. “Literally. You’re the first ghost I’ve ever met.”

Elias smiled wryly back at her. “And you’re the first living mortal to see me and not run screaming for the hills.” A dreamy look came to his eyes as he remembered their first meeting. “I’ll never forget the way the stars shined in your eyes when you looked my way for the first time.” He sighed blissfully. “Oh, never has anyone ever looked at me with such joy and rapture, even while I was still alive.”

Coraline softened at those words, and she drew closer to Elias, reaching out to take his hand. Objectively, he was cold, as cold as death, yet there was a strange warmth to his touch as well that she could only attribute as supernatural. It was a strange, contrary feeling that only drew her to him even more. “Elias…”

Elias eagerly took her hands in both of his and bent down closer so that he could better look into the eyes of his future bride. “Oh, Coraline, my beloved, my dearest, my precious love… I thank Heaven for finally bringing you into my un-life, and I thank you most of all for accepting my proposal.” He blushed again as a note of awkwardness crept into his voice. “I-I know that it was all so sudden, but from the moment we met, I just knew that we were destined to be.”

“Like soulmates?” Coraline asked softly.

“Yes, exactly like soulmates,” Elias said as he pulled Coraline closer until he could embrace her fully. “You are none other than my soulmate, Coraline… and I cannot tell you how happy it makes me that you’ve agreed to be mine for all eternity. Oh… I love you so much. Words simply cannot hope to convey just how much I love you.”

Coraline nuzzled into his embrace. She was aware that what she was doing was objectively crazy. People normally didn’t marry ghosts, let alone right after meeting them, but she couldn’t deny the way her pulse raced when she was with Elias, or the contentment she felt in his arms.

“I know what you mean,” Coraline said as she rested her cheek against his chest. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before you…”

“Nor have I,” Elias said softly as his glowing blue eyes gazed lovingly down at his bride. “Oh, Coraline. I promise you, I’ll make sure that our wedding is nothing less than perfect.”

Coraline sighed before abruptly straightening up. “Oh yeah, that reminds me. I needed to talk to you about the ceremony.”

“Oh?” Elias asked, eyebrows raising. “What about it, my love?”

Coraline fidgeted with the ends of her lacy sleeves, her face heating up as she struggled to look at Elias. “Um… well… It was about… the kiss.”

Elias blushed deeply as his eyes dipped down to his bride’s pale lips. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked, or as warm as her cheeks. “O-oh really? Oh… oh my.” Suddenly he felt almost too warm. “Wh-what about it, dearest?”

Coraline brought her fingers over her lips, tracing the lower one nervously. “It’s just… it’d be our first kiss, and it’ll be in front of everybody who comes to the wedding, so…”

Elias couldn’t help but imagine Coraline dressed before him in her elegant white wedding gown, waiting for him to lean down and kiss her once he pulled back her veil, sealing them together as man - well, ghost - and wife for all eternity. Excitement coursed through him at the thought of it, and a trickle of blood leaked from his nose, bright and vibrant like the splatters around the stump of his neck. “Our first kiss…”

Elias caught himself after a moment, and quickly wiped away the blood, which disappeared without so much as a smear on his hand, unlike the blood around his neck. “Y-yes, well…” He cleared his throat as he tried to compose himself. “I hope you’re looking forward to it as much as I am, my love.”

Coraline glanced up at Elias before she had to look away. “I’m just a little… nervous.”

Elias blinked, surprised. “Nervous? Why, whatever for?” He gently cupped her chin, but Coraline struggled to look him in the eye. “Oh my beloved Coraline, there’s nothing to worry about. I promise you, I’m fully prepared to make that kiss, as well as the rest of our wedding, the most wonderful experience of your life, and my un-life.”

“It’s just that…” Coraline finally managed to look up at her blue beaux. “It’d be my first kiss… period. I’ve never kissed anyone before.” Her face burned harder at the admission and her eyes skirted away from him again.

Elias felt his face heat as well despite the lack of any real heat in his spectral body. “You haven’t… Oh… oh my.” He could feel his excitement start to build again, but he quickly forced himself to reign it in before it overflowed into another nosebleed. “W-well it…” He faked a cough in an attempt to stall for a moment more to gather his thoughts. “I-I know I must seem quite a bit more… experienced in these sorts of matters than you, dearest, but the truth of the matter is that I… ah… n-never had the chance to experience such things before my death… or even after.”

Coraline blinked, surprised as her eyes turned back to her groom. “You never kissed your ex-fiancée?”

The memory of his former ‘bride’ was a blade that dug into his heart as sharply as the axe that cleaved through his neck, and Elias couldn’t keep the pain from showing on his face. Centuries of loneliness, empty and without love, washed over him, heavy and suffocating. So many years he spent alone in this crumbling house, wasting away as much as his spirit did from the loneliness that carved a hole in his heart. It was just as suffocating as the years he spent when he was alive, when the mansion was filled with far more life than the withered body he used to possess.

Elias Gallagher, the sickly, overlooked and discarded Gallagher son, had been a disgrace to the family. He had no looks, no skills, no strength, and nothing but his inheritance to offer anyone. He still remembered all the days he struggled just to cross the hall in his wheelchair so that he could make his escape from his dreary reality inside one of the many books in the family library. There he could distract himself from the pain that plagued his twisted body with the fanciful stories of protagonists who found their happy endings, and dream that maybe he too would find his own happy ending one day.

“Never,” Elias said, his voice low and his gaze far away. He still remembered her, the poisonous rose that seemed so beautiful but hid such deadly thorns. She had been a brief but cruel presence in his life that filled his head with false hope before she severed it from his shoulders on their wedding day. “Not that I would want such a thing. Just the thought disgusts me like little else.” He let out a huff without air as revulsion curled his lip. “I suppose that is the only thing that woman did that I will ever be grateful for.”

A warm touch to his cheek drew Elias out of his lonely, bitter memories and back to Coraline, who looked up at him, her eyes soft with sympathy. He couldn’t help but lean just a little into her warm hand and smiled at her in gratitude.

“But let us not focus on tragedies of the past, darling,” Elias said softly before he took the hand that held him so that he could kiss the back of it. “Instead, I wish to focus on how truly grateful I am to have found you after all this time, my love, my sweet Coraline. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here, my darling… and that you’ve agreed to be mine forever.”

Coraline blushed at the kiss, which made her skin tingle pleasantly. It was hard to say if the touch of his lips affected more than his sweet words, which never failed to fill her chest with butterflies. “I’m glad…” She adjusted his hold he had on her so that they could lace their fingers together. “It means we’ll be each other’s firsts.”

If Elias’s heart was still working, it would’ve started beating out of control at that knowledge. He couldn’t help but smile widely, though it took on a slightly goofy tinge as he felt positively giddy. “I suppose it does. Oh goodness, Coraline… I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. I love you so much, truly, deeply, and forever, I do.”

Coraline felt her heart racing hard and fast as she looked up into the soft, loving eyes of her soon-to-be groom. He was so precious; she couldn’t help but be drawn to him despite how strange the situation was.

Despite what ‘common sense’ might say, being with Elias just felt right to Coraline. It felt more right than anything she had ever known. It reminded her of something her mother told her that she always took to heart.

Love makes people crazy. If it didn’t, then it wouldn’t be love.

“I love you too,” Coraline said softly, her voice just above a whisper.

Elias gasped, his eyes flying open wide. For a moment he could only stare at his bride, just as stunned as he had been when she accepted his proposal. “You… oh… oh my goodness. Coraline, my darling, my love, my dearest!”

Unable to contain his joy, Elias scooped Coraline up into his arms and held her tight. “Oh my beloved, my sweetest, my dear heart, my light, no one has ever said those words to me before! You can’t know how happy that makes me feel.”

Giddy, Elias floated upwards with his bride, his heart feeling lighter than air. He lifted Coraline up just as easily and spun around with her crushed gently to his chest. She couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm and held onto him just as tight, imagining this must have been what being on a rollercoaster felt like.

Finally, Elias stopped spinning, though he held Coraline with him high in the air, the both of them floating as light as a feather due to his otherworldly powers. “Oh my darling Coraline, won’t you please say it again? I’ve longed to hear those words for so long… and hearing them from you has brought me joy like nothing else I’ve known before.”

Coraline giggled again and returned his beaming smile. Seeing his utter delight and the rush she felt as he shared it with her only made her feel more certain in her feelings and her decision to marry him. “I love you, Elias.”

Hearing those words a second time did nothing to diminish their power over Elias. Tears welled in his eyes, and he pulled Coraline close to him again. He babbled out a constant stream of praise and gratitude in her ear, his sweet words washing over her like a waterfall as his joy refused to be contained.

Coraline shivered at the way his voice caressed her ear, his praise making her feel molten inside even as he surrounded her in that supernatural contradicting combination of cold and warmth. It made her crave more, more of Elias and the endless love he gave to her without reservation.

“Elias,” she said, her breathy voice interrupting his flow of praise. “Can I kiss you?”

Elias jerked upright, his face darkening with a blush that spread so far that it reached past the divide in his neck. “K-kiss? You want to… b-before our wedding? O-oh my, I… oh Coraline.”

His fluster made Coraline feel a little shy as well. “Is that a no?”

“No!” Elias blurted out before shaking his head emphatically. “I mean yes! It’s a yes! Yes, I wish to kiss you, my beloved Coraline! A thousand times yes!”

Coraline giggled at such an enthusiastic response and reached up to gently cup his cheeks. Elias jolted at the touch, but recovered quickly, his grip tightening on her just a little bit more. He let her draw him in to her and closed his eyes just as their lips made contact.

It was a clumsy kiss, his lips a bit tight from nervousness and hers fumbling a bit with uncertainty, but it did nothing to diminish its power. The feeling that sparked between them was electric, coursing through their souls in a way that left them both dazed when the kiss finally ended.

“I… my word,” Elias muttered, feeling dazed as he slowly drifted them both back down to the floor. “That was… that… I…”

���Wow,” Coraline said breathlessly.

Elias nodded as his gaze focused on his blushing bride. “Yes, that was certainly… wow.”

A delighted giggle escaped Coraline. She felt bubbly, lighter than air even when her feet finally touched the ground again. She couldn’t stop smiling up at her fiancé as she stroked his flushed cheeks. “Can we do it again?” She pushed herself up on her toes to inch in a little closer to him. “Maybe practice for the wedding?”

“Y-yes of course,” Elias said a little too eagerly. “It’s ah… ahem, I think practicing for our wedding would be a wonderful idea, my dear.”

Another giggle escaped Coraline that soon melted into a sigh as their lips met again. Their second kiss was a little softer than the first, a little more sure, but it was no less blissful for them both.

It wouldn’t be long before their wedding was underway. Even though everything was rushing so fast and common sense would tell Coraline that marrying Elias was a foolish decision, when they kissed, all doubts disappeared. Nothing else in the world ever felt more right to her than accepting the proposal of the lonely ghost groom of the Gallagher mansion.

[the-bi-space-ace]

For the One Scene ask— your current long fic series. What was the one scene that sparked the whole thing??

Oh friend. Ohhhhhh friend. The scene that inspired it all was actually two scenes and the first drafts of those scenes never made it into the first fic believe it or not. I knew I wanted Echo to get captured. I even wrote a full scene of when they recover Echo that ended up getting scraped for what it is now. Originally he wasn’t held captive for very long and it was just the batch that arrived to save him. Rex Cody and Obi-Wan were later additions while I was planning. That rough draft scene went a little bit like this:

“I am losing my patience!” That grating voice was enough to give Hunter a migraine. A piece of the control panel that Wrecker had blown up was violently thrown at the back of Echo’s seat. To his credit, he didn’t even flinch. Hunter scanned the room looking for Crosshair, finding him tucked inside an air vent on the opposite side of the room. The tip of his silencer on the firepuncher glinted faintly in the dim light of the room. Echo was practically panting now, his resolve broken now that they had gotten so close to getting away. “You’re going to talk and I’m going to make you!” [Cross takes down the general] The room fell quiet for a moment as they waited for signs that anyone else was coming.

After what felt like a decade Hunter decided it was clear and motioned for everyone to reveal themselves, pushing out of various hidden areas of the room. Crosshair was the first to get to Echo, immediately crouching in front of him like Hunter had done earlier. They released the restraints quickly, Cross immediately pulling Echo from the chair and supporting his weight as best he could.

“Let’s get you out of here.” Crosshair told Echo, his voice resonating through the comms in everyone else’s helmet. While they got Echo redressed in his armor Hunter pulled up the security footage again, watching diligently to ensure they could still access their escape route.

I knew I wanted Echo to open up to the batch and build out what that looked like when he was so resistant to talk about Fives. I was going to have the big emotional conclusion be in fic 1 originally and it ended up being moved to fic 2. I wanted to mirror the balcony scene in the bar of fic 1 with a scene with Hunter at the end of that fic but things ended up getting changed around. I even wrote the scene with Hunter and was fully ready to use it only to scrap it when I decided to write a sequel and delay Echo opening up to Hunter. The scene pivoted from its original set up to what is now chapter 14 of Keep These Shadows Out and I couldn’t be happier that I moved things around. I still might use the originally written scene in something but have a very rough snippet of what could have been in the last chapter of You’re Calling Me Home Like A Ship That Got Wrecked.

“On Curosant you asked me what was wrong. What was bothering me. I didn’t tell you then. I should’ve. I should've told you a lot sooner.” Echo’s eyes slowly pulled upwards, shining brightly with unshed emotion. “You were right. It was about Fives. I… I lost him.” Echo’s voice broke, pulling a distraught sigh out of him.

Hunter reflexively put a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about this right now.” Echo shook his head, mouth pulling into a pained grimace.

“No, I do. If I don’t I’ll never get the words out.” Hunter let him continue, his hand falling to his side. Echo coughed, trying to dislodge the tightness that had a death grip on his voice. “On my first assignment I lost everyone. Everyone but Fives. We were close before, but after that we were inseparable. I couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.” Hunter’s heart broke. He knew from the little Rex told him that the squad Echo had been in before the 501st had a tough orientation, so to speak, but he didn’t push for more. Everyone deserved their privacy. “When I was rescued from Skako and Rex told me that Fives was gone I didn’t want to believe him. I wasn’t prepared for a world without him, and yet there I was having to figure out how to move forward.”

Hunter wished he had known sooner, been able to help sooner. The nightmares, the sleepless nights, the way Echo kept to himself sometimes. It all started to make sense. He just wished it didn’t take so long, such a horrible mission, to draw the truth out of him.

It was too emotionally intelligent too soon and I had to change things 😅 but the full scene itself is heartbreaking and I still do love it.

[christinescupofcoffee]

a completed work — the original now it’s dark trilogy (now it’s dark, who cares wins, and be all end all)

started — September 2019 | completed: January 2020 | genre — science fiction, noir, cyberpunk posing as fanfiction | pov — 1st person perspective | status — third draft | currently — completed! | themes — poverty, death, mind control, manipulation, mad science, family dysfunction, the rise of ai/terminator-bladerunner type stuff, ecoterrorism

blurb | Joey hasn't always had it easy. Fresh off the boat from his singing duties in Anthrax, he finds a battered young woman in a storm drain. After taking her to shelter, he runs into a gentleman named Lars Ulrich, whom, as he finds out knows a thing or two about the woman in question. Thus ensues two fellows' journey through hell and back again.

excerpt | "Kill me now," is what I say as I stare out the window. The rain is my one true friend now. It's been a while since I've been able to make a good friend on top of this--I'm sure everyone knows about it, the whole thing where if someone, and by someone I mean myself, wasn't en route to a college or a university, or working a job already, they were kind of left out in the cold. Sure, there have been plenty of acquaintances, but as far as someone I could sit with and feel myself to be true with them, it's been a while. The whole twisted thing about everything that happened was that it happened so quick. It was four years ago Scott and Frank told me I could hold the microphone in my hand. Four years ago, and last year we may as well have hiked up to the North Pole and stood up a big black flag with the word "NOT!" emblazoned on it, beholding the fact we had conquered the world in the wake of Cliff's ashes. We rose up like the phoenix, and I was the man on fire.

There is absolutely nothing like standing out in the rain with all of your things taken out from the studio, slung over your shoulder, and your old band mates were the ones throwing you out there into the darkness while the gutters overflow over your head. There isn't a feeling like it.

And if anyone believes that I had had enough, know for a fact I was asked to leave. I had vowed to rid of the problem, to replace all of the booze with black coffee. I mean, Jesus, I like to have fun with this sort of thing. What's the point of doing it if I'm not going to have a little fun with it all every now and then? And it's not like I was drinking a ton so to speak--at least I wasn't doing those drug loaded pirate raids the four of them would do with Skid Row and Ratt. But I specifically recall telling Scott, verbatim, after he threatened to leave if I did nothing, that I would not have a sip of alcohol as long as I was a member of the band. And yet, for whatever reason, that promise did not suffice or click with any of them.

I think the sound of my phone ringing this morning and waking me up will haunt me for as long as I live. I still hear Charlie's voice on the other end, telling me it was official. They had made the decision behind closed doors and I had been thrown out on my ass as of that morning, but he never elaborated why.

The next thing I remember was asking him why and the sound of the other end hanging up.

note: this is the one. This is the fic I come back to quite often, mainly because it was such a watershed moment for me. It made me realize that I have the weirdest ability to tell a story from a guy’s point of view (which in turn made me realize that my concept of gender is way more permeable and fluid than I had realized before). It was the last thing I wrote before the pandemic hit. I made inktober art for it, which Joey himself noticed on instagram and then talked about it on Jamey Jasta’s podcast on my birthday.

When I go back and read it, it’s astounding how important it is for me, personally and as a writer. It’s arguably my magnum opus.

And you’re not misreading that, either, I literally wrote the whole three books in four months.

[starchaserdreams]

Erm, hello!

I am an aspiring writer. I have these stories in my head that I love and want to write about. But when I try, it's the absolute worst shit I've ever seen in my life.

Sorry, what I'm trying to ask is, any tips for younger writers who have no idea what they're doing...?

Hi! I have no idea what I'm doing ever, but I'll try to answer as best as I can. I'll start with generic advice, then say what works for me specifically. Sorry this got so long.

We're all kind of fumbling through life. The writing habits that I have have come from three sources:

a) hearing what other people do and building from them. I'm always in one writers group or another (currently I'm in a local writers group, and I'm regularly involved with two different NaNoWriMo groups in November, one locally and one virtually) and I've picked up a lot from them

b) a metric fuckton of trial and error. Because while part (a) is great some of the time, most of the things that work for other people don't work for me. I can't set a strict schedule at the same time everyday. I can't edit for a long time after I write.

c) NaNoWriMo (see link) helped me SO MUCH. I don't think everything can be written that way, but in terms of getting a handle on your own voice, preventing yourself from stopping to edit, and letting the story flow on its own, NaNo is amazing. It's a great starting point. Editing can come later, once the words are done on the page.

If you're unfamiliar, it's a (totally free) event that happens in November every year where everyone tries to write 50,000 words of a brand new novel in the span of one month. That's 1,667 words per day, so there isn't much time to stop and edit as you go. You just keep going. It's a competition against yourself rather than anyone else, to see if you can accomplish the task. It's also a community based event, so you can commiserate with other writers about the bad and celebrate with them about the good.

They have smaller events in April and July, but to really get the feel of it, November is when it's a party (or a rollercoaster, either way). I went to write-ins in cafes, bars, grocery stores, on the subway, etc. The event is a whole vibe, and now they have in person events again (they paused for covid). If you want to stay virtual, they have that too!

And as for what works for me:

1.

This most certainly wouldn't work for everyone, but it's my current strategy:

I think best when I'm in motion. By far. So most of my storyboarding I do while walking or driving, and I dictate into the notes app on my phone.

I do most of my dialogue this way too, because speaking it out loud makes it feel more like a conversation and more natural. I won't dictate the narration, but I'll include action tags. So it comes out like "Anthony: *flings door open, eyes wide* what in blazes are you doing??" (I add punctuation later)

Then when I get home, I often have several thousand words of notes to work from. My notes file for my last fic was 30k words, almost all of which had been dictated. It's a lot. It might sound daunting.

But it was done while out for a walk or drive, so it felt easy and effortless. And then when it came time to actually write, I got 48,000 words of a first draft done in 8 days (about 15k of which was just copy pasted from the outline. The whole time it felt like cheating and using guidelines to write the actual story, but it was all my original work, just done at different times.

2.

Keep writing as an exciting treat rather than a chore.

I've started to create little writers retreats for myself. My friends and I rented an AirBnB for two nights this winter, where the entire goal was reading and writing. Sure there was sitting around the fire talking and eating good food, but we built it up so that the writing was the exciting part. It worked SO WELL. We did writing activities together too, not just staring at a word doc. We did character studies and made little AUs to imagine our characters in.

A friend and I took a six hour road trip for another writers retreat too. We spent the 12 hours (RT) in the car talking about our stories and characters. We'd started with dozens of prompts so we'd have enough material, and we never ran out. Then we took rest stops at gas stations and restaurants and did little 15 minute writing sprints. It really got me fired up. I wrote 6,000 words over the two days of that retreat!

Keeping writing fun can be big things (my sister and I did a writers retreat like that in Hawaii) or little things (I always treat myself to a donut and a coffee on Sunday mornings and then have a leisurely morning in the cafe writing).

I can't say if any of this will work for you, because I can't even say whether it'll still work for *me* in a few years. But I hope it's food for thought!

Anyway this is like one million words long so sorry about that, hope it was interesting.

[moodymisty]

Hi! So I may or may not be the anon that requested the helmet kink ask not too long ago and I couldn’t get it out of my head! 🙈🤍 you’re writing is just so dang good!!

I was wondering if you had anything in the works for the best big boy, Wrecker? I feel like there just isn’t enough love out there for that big ol’ softie and he deserves to be smothered in kisses all over that hunk of a man

Welcome back hun! I'm glad you like my stuff! And I'm so happy you liked that last thing I wrote, it makes me 'uwu'

I do not actually, I just finished up the last thing I posted for Wrecker a little bit back but I wasn't that happy with it, and I've been currently working on drafting chapters for my Tech fic I want to do.

But... I love my big boy (and incredible genius like this man can rig a bomb out of TRASH like how in the galaxy-) Wrecker so I want to give him some fluff. You give me the perfect escape ramp to do so LOL

I am so sorry to all the people sitting in my inbox while I work on their stuff and I do this one in a day the stars just aligned here while I'm stuck in a hotel for a sporting event

Relationships: Wrecker/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None really, just some overwhelming fluff and irritating Echo(poor baby)

“So...”

After he cracks the silence you glance up at Wrecker, noticing the way he only looks at you in the eyes for a second, before glancing away to the side.

You’re sitting sideways on his lap, leaned back against the arm of the co-pilot’s seat while the main seat sits empty. All the while the Marauder coasts through hyperspace, stars streaking past the viewports. Wrecker’s left hand sits against your hip and he adjusts it, and by extension you, shifting your body slighting closer to him while he speaks.

“What was Kamino like before we got back? After Order 66 and all that.”

You purse your lips for a moment, trying to find a way to describe it.

“Like normal, at first. Just more hectic.” Wrecker’s brow furrows as he looks down at you. You remember not entirely knowing what had happened, only that the war had ended; Until little pieces had begun to fall into place.

“Granted, I didn’t spend that much time there before I hitched a ride with you guys.” You feel his other hand on the small of your back, his fingers twitching.

“Why you ask?” Wrecker’s head perks, looking down at you before away with a bit of an abashed expression. It’s, incredibly obvious he’s trying to lie.

“What? I was just curious…”

All you have to do is stare at him for a moment with a slightly suspicious expression before he cracks in half.

“Ok! Ok ok geez…” He swallows harshly and clenches his teeth for a moment, trying to find the words. And when he does, they come out quieter than you had expected.

“Do ya, regret coming with us?”

You look up at him, having a decent idea what brought this on. So he’s still thinking about earlier.

A little while ago Tech had been surfing open Imperial channels for any unencrypted chatter, and had came across all of the Batch’s bounty postings; Though much to their surprise, you were included with them. They had you marked as a co-conspirator, and with that had effectively ruined any chance of you trying to live a normal life.

Needless to say, you’d taken it far better than the Batch had.

You’d been avoiding talking about it at all around Wrecker, knowing how he was probably taking it. But it seemed he’d been still thinking and stewing about it since Tech had first shown them all.

“No, I don’t.”

You attempt to lean up and give him a kiss, but given the height difference with you sitting on his lap, it’s a struggle. You wrap a hand around the back of his neck, and tug downwards.

“Come down here. I can’t reach you up there.”

He gives a wide and excited smile knowing what you’re trying to do, and eagerly dives in for a kiss. You can feel him almost groan happily as your soft lips press against his own, and your hand stays on the back of his neck. Wrecker doesn’t think there will ever be a day where he’ll get over how small and cute you are compared to him. Once you pull back, you smile at him.

“I wasn’t going to work for the Empire. So I was going to end up on a bounty board either way, honestly. I’m incapable of keeping my mouth shut.” Needless to say that makes Wrecker laugh, feeling the way your hands grab at the seams of his armor to keep him close. As if he was going to pull away anyways.

“Besides; I can’t think of a better place than being here with you.” He smiles again, you can feel it against your lips as you kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Even if it is in this smelly ship.”

Wrecker can’t exactly deny that, even if he’s long since lost the ability to smell it.

“Well, you’re stuck with us now!” The hand on your thigh moves to cradle your cheek, effectively smushing your face against his own as he kisses your cheek. It makes you laugh, even as you attempt to shush him. As much as you’re glad you managed to cheer him up, or at least divert his attention away from thinking about your bounty, his voice tends to echo in the around the compact ship.

“Hey! People are trying to sleep big guy, we can’t yell!”

It’s absolutely not the first time you’ve told him to be quiet, but Wrecker seems largely incapable of doing so. Even his whispering is loud; Much like his personality.

Though it’s not like you mind; It’s just the four others sleeping, or at least attempting to, in the back of the Marauder might not have the same opinion.

Speaking of...

It seems like it’s time for a shift change; As Echo comes into the cockpit looking at something in his hand, before going down the one step and noticing the two of you snuggling in the co-pilot’s seat. His shoulders drop and he sighs, letting out a crestfallen:

“Really?”

Echo always looks tired, but now he looks extremely so. Or disappointed, more like.

“What?” Wrecker stares him down. “Got a problem?” Echo thrusts out his good hand, the datapad in it pointing at the two of you.

“Yes! That’s my seat!”

“Well, we sure weren’t going to take Tech’s.”

You’re attempting not to smile at him, before awkwardly shuffling outward to try and get off of Wrecker’s lap and onto the ground. It takes a moment, before your boots finally touch the floor. Wrecker vacates the seat as well and Echo takes his claim back, flopping down datapad still in his hand.

But there really isn’t any other places in the cramped living space of the Marauder to go, so you just end up back at Wrecker’s bunk, both sitting on it limbs tangled together. Wrecker leans against the wall one leg dangling off the edge of the bunk, and you lay back against his chest. It’s moments before he’s complaining again.

“At least Kamino wasn’t this boring.”

You can feel the way he groans, head thumping against the wall before he suddenly speaks up.

“Want to play Sabacc?”

You jolt forward, about to speak; Though Tech interjects before you have the chance. He’s sitting in his bunk like he had planned to sleep, and either gave up, or an idea struck. Either way his head perks up from the project in his lap, looking over at the two of you.

“Oh, are you going to play? I would like to t-” You quickly cut him off, before anyone else gets any ideas.

“No! We are not playing Sabacc. Not after the last time.” Tech goes back to working on his current project.

“We will be back on Ord Mantell in two standard rotations. We will not have to keep ourselves occupied in hyperspace for much longer.” You can feel Wrecker’s hand against the side of your leg; Wanting to rest on your thigh but resisting the urge to. You would’ve slapped it away if he had, as you’d made him promise to keep affection to a bare minimum while on the Marauder.

“Because he’s so bored…” Wrecker sounds like he’s rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, because he has a project. When Tech actually gets bored he starts digging into the walls.” You can see Tech’s eyes glance over at you for a moment, but he can’t exactly refute your claim. Specially since you’ve seen him literally digging for wires in the walls of the old Kamino barracks before.

After a moment passes however, your hand drifts down to subtly touch his own that’s laying beside your thigh. It lingers, hidden, wrapping your fingers around his own with a soft but noticeable touch. Wrecker’s looking down at you curiously when you glance back.

“How about once we land, we get something to eat?”

Wrecker is all for that, and instantly starts thinking about food that isn’t in a pre-made ration packet. Once you turn around and give him ‘a look’ however, he realizes you might not be entirely talking about food. Then Wrecker becomes much more quiet, looking down at you with a nervous but eager smile.

You’ve been stuck in this ship for a bit, and it’s been awhile since the two of you have actually been alone. As in actually alone, without risk of someone storming in. Your hand dares to trail up to his wrist for a bit,

“Y-Yeah, sounds good to me.”

[asknarashikari]

Buffabuttface Fell in a Ditch Preview: Part 3: (I'm still thinking of the appropriate name for the title)

i(These new DGP staff members introduced in the previous chapter finally meet Keiwa and Neon, as well as some insight on they were recruited.)

DGP Staff Recruits #1, 2, 3, and 4: *are all stacking up cards in the DGP saloon and no. 1, 3, and 4 are all bantering about stupid nonsense while #2 is just chuckling in amusement*

Keiwa: I checked the cells…so you really did lock him up behind bars in a ditch. -_- *enters the DGP saloon along with Neon and walks up to Ace*

Ace: Indeed I did, he’s been stuck in that ditch in his own cell for at least a week now and there’s no escaping for him either. ;)

Neon: Wow, that long…no wonder he smells like shit. Good riddance to him… -_-’

Keiwa: So you were actually serious about punishing Buffabutt…you’re actually taking responsibility for it…

Ace: I’ve still got a long way to go to make it up to you, we still need to figure out how to revert those Stage 2 Jyamatos back into humans again…not to mention how to fix the mess that Buffa had left us…we need to bring back the victims he killed too, on top of the victims that lost their lives in the previous games… -_- *shakes his head in disappointment and exasperation*

Ace: I wanted to be fair and thought I could keep Buffa in line but…it’s clear that allowing that loose cannon to become a rider again was a major blunder on my part. But you have my word, Tycoon…he’s going to spend his life in that solitary confinement cell for both his past crimes and his failures to cooperate with us. He’ll never be let out and become a Rider again, not without my approval that is and only when it’s really necessary. But I do hope to keep him in that cell as much as possible to reflect on his actions…for always and always and always.

Keiwa: … *slowly nods in understanding*

Keiwa: It’s going to take some time to forgive you for allowing Buffa to become a Rider again in the first place, but I’ll trust you on that…and you better prove yourself, Ace.

Ace: … *nods back*

Neon: … ^_^

(Of course…this is just the preview. There’s already more currently being typed in the actual chapter, which isn’t even incomplete yet.

Speaking of which… oh boy, I think I’m struggling. It’s going to take a god damn while to finally finish making Part 3, trying to come up with ideas for the dialogue and exposition, as well as making it sound interesting and not feel rushed. That and having motivation is another important factor too, is this writer’s block? I want to be ambitious and I confident I know what I’m thinking but I also can’t help but be self-conscious about being misunderstood even though I really shouldn’t give a damn what other people might think.

Also, the fact that drafts in AO3 automatically get deleted within a month if you don’t post it…it puts me under a time limit and it’s makes it a little stressful, hampering my motivation even more. It’s been a while since I’ve even typed up a story ever since…freaking Wattpad which I kinda stopped using and now I remembered the hard way how difficult creating a story can actually be. I might’ve been a bit overconfident, I knew what I was getting myself into when making a draft but then the moment I become stuck… crap. I seriously wonder if you or Franzfan23 sometimes feel this way whenever having an idea for a story or chapter that you just couldn’t finish.

So…sorry. Hopefully I’ll manage to finish Part 3 of Buffabuttface Fell in a Ditch within a month or so… ^_^’)

Ooh it looks good so far! I look forward to reading it!

As for the other thing… yeah, I know that feeling. Writing longer format fics can be daunting when you’re not used to it. I’d only written a few fics when I got the idea for Hidari Shoutaro’s Home for Technically Non-Existent People so it was quite a challenge working on it.

If I can offer you some advice, the two things I found most useful when writing the aforementioned fic was 1) outlining everything first and 2) working offline. 

Outlining just worked for me, it helped organize my thoughts in a way that made sense to me, and I could see how the general plot was going to go without getting bogged down with details. I could rearrange things as I worked on it and change things up as I worked on it or the actual story. I actually had the outline for the fic done before I started working on it, lol. 

And working offline meant I didn’t have a time crunch as opposed to just posting straight on AO3 would. Of course, that also meant I had a backup of my work offsite (and offline, since I actually worked on it using good ol’ Microsoft Word), so if I had been working on it during say the time AO3 went down during the DDOS attack, I wouldn’t have lost anything. 

(It probably also helped that I had a large portion written before I started posting at all XD)

But yeah, just keep working on it! You can do it~ 

[the-s1lly-corner]

Fluff Headcannons for Jason Voorhees

because it just so happens to be a 13th on a friday- to clear things up before i get started, im unfortunately not taking requests for slashers TToTT at least not yet, i might if my rot comes back though side note jason was such a comfort character last year i kinda miss him but im not quite ready to part with my current hyperfixiation heres to hoping writing this doesnt end that rot short

torn between giving him a soft n sweet partner and a partner whos tough and independent (but still loving, of course); because i can truly see him being interested in both. perhaps a caring s/o who can take the initiative is what would work for him. maybe thats because i read so many fics/hcs where jason in a domestic setting is like. trying to be a soft stereotypical house husband though

which he totally would be imo, like sure he's not perfect but you can tell his intentions when hes insisting to clean up the cabin for you

if this is before zombie jason he is so so so fucking warm, best cuddle buddy; post zombie hes cold, though :(

speaking of cuddling hes a cuddle bug, and generally craves loads of physical and verbal affection. now will he outwardly ask? not in the beginning i think, far too shy about it and he doesnt know the best way to ask thanks to his inexperience

"oooooh what if you hold his face and give it kisses" i think, but in the beginning i dont think he would even let you anywhere near his face; and if you're short enough, no where near his head. if this is something you want to do youre going to have to be slow, steady, and reassuring with him. its likely you wont even see his face for years after the relationship is begun unless an accident happens and his mask slips and/or breaks

only knows how to make basic bare bones meals but if you were to teach him and have a means to getting ingredients he's going to be soaking up that information and hes going to be like an eager puppy when you offer to teach him

cooking with your partner and enjoying each others presence >>>>

now lets spoil this man for a minute, since its kinda his day. he keeps a hold on literally every single gift you give him. if its something he can wear he wears it like a badge of honor. if its an object he will make sure its in tip top condition while also being used so its not forgotten.

this may be a little self projection though, but i think he would also be wary of gifts too; not because he doesnt appreciate them. he does. just too much, scared that he's going to lose or break the gift

please give him reassurance that you don't mind otherwise hes going to silently brew over it while holding something as basic as a flower you handed him

flowers

get this man flowers

i always read about jason giving the reader flowers, which i 100% he would do, but can we spoil this man too! i think he would like daises and sunflowers

but maybe thats because when i think those flowers i think nature idk

give this man a dandelion RIGHT NOW!!! let him experience the childhood that was stolen from him

this was originally gonna be longer but its like 8am and i need to do things this morning and im too stubborn to save drafts/i know ill forget to finish this but happy friday the 13th

[ivycorp]

for the fic ask thing:

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP. (because really why would one not ask that?)

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

It took me a while, apologies! Thank you for the ask!

🖋 I am currently enjoying my vices and typing up another fic for @transingthoseformers TFP AU, so a snippet from there:

A few hours later, an explosion shook the Nemesis.

"Sir, the Autobots boarded the ship!" one of the Vehicons announced, but the SIC only let out a long-suffering ex-vent as he turned to Soundwave with a request to get the humans moving in the straight way towards the invaders. The blue mech shot out a quick affirmative ping, as he turned on the schematics of the ship, drafting the quickest route to the advancing Bots.

"Maybe we could tell them to just… wait?" suggested another soldier on duty. The Air Commander looked him square in the optics, as he leant down, sarcastically letting out a "I wonder why didn't I think of that, hmm… let's test it out, shall we?"

Pressing the intercom active, the flier started speaking in an even tone:

"Autobots, cease fire. Your humans are being directed to your location as we speak. You will not be stopped from leaving this vessel if you comply."

Moments later another explosion shook through the Nemesis, with some very loud yelling in the distance.

The jet turned the intercom off, not breaking the optic contact with the Vehicon, who looked horrified.

"Any other bright ideas?" she asked, and the soldier shook his helm negative.

"I am putting you down for cleanup duty in that sector later, so you learn something," the SIC promised dryly. He really needed this day to end.

💭 headcanon about my own work... I don't think I really have any, at least am not consciously considering whatever is in my head anything beyond a "huh would be fun/tragic"

I might be inclined to say that the mafia!Burns family AU technically shows that (at least in my opinion) there would be very little change needed to the characters themselves to make the situation work in a much shadier setting, but I don't know if that's enough to consider it headcanon...

💻 research... I do it rarely, usually checking up small details whenever I catch myself doubting recollection of a particular design or timeline.

I usually don't dive too deep, but I admit that for the one non-TF fanfic I am writing I caught myself checking 1910s slang in the UK and stared at myself for a while processing that xD