#hitchiker x reader

[thatweirdbitchjax]

How Slashers React to You Saying...

"How about I pop a Glock in your mouth and make a brain-slushie?" Part:I

⯎~Bubba~⯎ -Concerned, very concerned -Incoherrently babbles and squeals in concern and confusion -Please don’t actually do it when he’s around, he doesn’t want you killing or getting involved as he knows how dangerous it is ⯎~Nubbins~⯎ -Gets very excited -Def starts looking for a gun so he can see you do it -Expect an upset Nubbins if you don’t actually do it -Gets extremely excited if you actually DO do it -“Y-YEAH! They’ll m-m-make a b-brain slushie ou-outta you!” ⯎~Chop-Top~⯎ -Just like his twin, he gets extremely excited -Also really wants you to do it -Will call you a chicken in order to try to pressure you into it -If you do it without him having to try to pressure you, he will start hoopin’and hollarin’ so much, you’d think he was going on about ‘Namland again ⯎~Drayton~⯎ -You’re gonna give the old man a heart attack, WHERE DID YOU EVEN FIND THAT GUN?! -He knows you’re a menace, there for he attempts to hide all weapons away from you, so where did you find this one? -Won’t allow you to do it, will yank the gun out of your hands and tell you off for even thinking about doing that -Will give you a few playful wacks with his broom if one of the twins say anything about him not hitting you as punishment like he does with them

@zeroisreallygood

@th3r4t48

@puppet200

[culebratia]

Sawyer brothers with a short s/o? Maybe 5'0" or something like that, thank u

Thank you for the request! I’ve been wanting an excuse to polish up on these boys xx

BUBBA SAWYER

* tbh he’d find it so goddamn cute. Like, when he first met you, he’d be like, ‘aww! This livestock is trying to hurt me. Welp, better go crying to Nubbins about my ouchie!’ Okay not literally but whatever. He learnt very quickly on that day the rage and power of a cute, short person, and man does he learn quick.

* he’d probably see you as some sort of magical, unbreakable creature tbh. After your first meeting when you beat the ever-loving shit out of him, he wouldn’t even worry about hurting you like at all. Chainsaw? Nah. Muscles? Fuck no. Being beaten to death? You’d probably end up doing that instead of the other way around. ‘What? You mean that they can bruise if I hug them too tight? Nonsense! Look how sturdy they are— oh shit they’re bleeding.’

* because Bubba is like a mama hen, he’d probably make you a tall, toddler seat all by himself. Like, he’d take the bone remains of animals and people and try and stick some stuff together to make the frame, the bottom and the back, and stick a cushion to the bottom to make sure your cute little bum doesn’t get hurt by the sharp edges. Probably will try to hand feed you tbh, make sure to have a bib ready

NUBBINS SAWYER

* Nubbins won’t know how to treat you. Does he treat you like how Bubba does? Like how Chop-Top does? He just sees you like a normal, everyday person. Nothing particularly special about you apart from your height. And even then, he doesn’t even believe that you’re that small. He’s seen smaller from his hitchhiking adventures.

* will probably help you out if you’re too small to do stuff. Can’t reach the cereal? Nubbins’ gotcha. Can’t get up on the high seat? Nubbins’ gotcha. Wanna smack Chop-Top in the face but can’t because you want to look intimidating without going on your tippy-toes? Nubbins’ has most definitely gotcha.

* he once heard from grandpa that short people have the most rage inside of them, because they’re unable to handle their emotions properly, and thus makes them spawns of the devil. But he doesn’t see you as a spawn of the devil, he sees you as his wonderful partner in crime who just wants to be treated like a normal person. And he tries his very best to treat you as if you weren’t small, but it’s a bit hard when you get mad when he looks down at you, and then gets equally as mad when he bends down to your level like you’re a child. He doesn’t understand you sometimes.. what,, is he doing wrong??

CHOP-TOP SAWYER

* Chop-Top is an asshole. A lovable asshole, but an asshole nonetheless. He’ll probably be making height jokes 24/7 and will try and find each and every tick you have to piss you off. It’s just too funny for him! Admittedly, he doesn’t actually like it when you’re legitimately mad at him, so he does try and restrain himself when he sees you getting especially fired up over something.

* will probably be the kinda guy that’d lean on you tbh. He’d do it at first to annoy you, and that it did, but after a while you’d both just gotten used to it and it ended up being some sort of unintentional habit of his. It’d be weird for you both to stand next to each other and not have him lean on you, honestly.

* despite being a complete dick about your height, he’ll probably act the same in terms of the way he treats his S/O. I don’t really see much difference in his demeanour other than you being short hella funny to him—

[utakoi]

My brain rlly just wants me to suffer huh

[coffeeforday]

Somewhere in Newfoundland, Canada

This is part of my Travel Chronicles series. Because of bugs on the original post, I decided to repost it.

Porco x Reader

W/C: 2.3k

A/N: This story revolves around hitchiking. I do not encourage doing it. It has gotten dangerous and it is also less common as it was. If you find yourself in a situation where hitchiking is inevitable, please make sure you have something to defend yourself close, ask where the person is going before saying your destination, use that moment to check for anything shady and check the vibe, if you're not feeling it, do not get in. I wasn't expecting to start with a 101 on hitchiking, but I feel it is important to know because we don't know when we'll be stranded and in need of a ride.

Masterpost

It was time to go home. Home right now was at the other end of Newfoundland. It had been for a few months. You had already moved three times around the province in the last year. You had just settled in the province’s capital, St. John’s in hope of finding new work, but nothing was going anywhere. If you don’t find anything soon, you’ll have to move back home. But at least it meant you were free for a road trip with your friend that was visiting! The plan was to go all the way north and stop in the nice towns along the coast, over 1000km. We just had a timeline of a week, plenty of time to stop and enjoy the visit and still reach the destination.

You both agreed to separate at the city closest to the fork, Deer Lake, where the two highways cross paths. That way she could go grab the ferry, and you could go the opposite direction to go back home. You were going to hitchhike back. It’s all good, you had done it before, you weren’t stressed about it.

“Be careful! Text me when you get in a car and keep me posted!” Your friend tells you through the open passenger window. You lean in: “ Yes! I’ll keep you posted. Tell me when you reach the ferry!”

You wave your friend goodbye as you quickly cross on the other side of the road. You start walking, turning around and lifting your thumb when you hear a car coming. It doesn’t take too long before a car stops next to you.

“Ya need a ride miss?”

“Yes where are you heading ?”

“I’m goin’ two towns over. I’ll bring ya, it’s a good spot to get picked up. Hop in.”

Alright, that’s good right? You would have preferred to get further, but it’s a start. You were also hoping to keep the number of times you had to make small talk to a minimum… the less rides it took to get back, the better. When he slows down before an exit you’re confused. Is this guy serious?

“This is it miss! Good luck!”

You look at him drive away and then look around.

“ I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere”, you mutter to yourself.

He drives you 20 minutes out of the city, drops you off in a curve, where there’s nothing but trees in sight. You start walking, rummaging, cursing at the man for leaving you here, cursing at yourself for not asking more questions about where he was going. That’s what you get for being trusting, dumbass.

Rage slowly transforms into worry. The cars are scarce, the sun is going down. You don’t have a tent or anything to spend the night outside and there’s no town close. Basically you’re fucked and panic is threatening to break through your calm facade. There’s just no way to rationalize the situation. The closer the sun gets to setting, the more dangerous it gets for you. Not because of shady people, but because of the environment you’re in. Once the dark settles, you won’t be visible on the side of the road, and you’re also aware that there are bears and moose in the region.

You turn around and stick out your thumb as you hear a car approaching. Your forced smile merges into one of relief as you see the forest green SUV slowing down. You go up to the vehicle while the driver rolls down the window.

“Hi! Where are you going, sir?”

“ I’m heading to St. John’s, I can drop you anywhere along the way”

“That’s where I’m going!” He then leans in to open the passenger’s door so you can get in. He waits for you to fasten your buckle and place your bag between your legs to start driving again. Once you relax a bit, relieved to not be stranded on the side of the road anymore, it hits you. You did not pay attention to the person stopping, you didn’t check for the creepy red flags. He seems to sense you tensing up. He sends you a side glance and says:

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, I can drop you at the next town”

You take a good look at him this time. Pushed back dirty blond hair, hazel eyes paired with a strong jawline. Not bad to look at eh. And you’re not getting any creepy vibes. He’s probably around your age too.

“Hum.. yeah, thanks”

“You want to get out in the next town?” He lifts an eyebrow in question.

“Oh! No! It’s not what I meant!” You stumble over your words. “It’s just, you know, I forgot to check if you were legit. It’s nice to ask though, I appreciate it. I’m ok to stay”.

He seems amused by your awkwardness. At least you assume so as you see a corner of his lips lifting up.

“ Were you getting desperate out there?” He chuckles before continuing, “how did you end up in between towns like that.”

You sigh loudly and roll your eyes, that makes him chuckle again.

“Ugh some guy told me he was going a couple towns down the road and that it was a good spot for hitchhiking. Then, he basically left me where you picked me up.” you sigh again and run a hand over your face. “So yeah I was getting desperate. And stressed about being stuck there at night. So thanks.”

“It’s all good, don’t sweat it” he answers with a shrug.

After texting your friend that you finally got a ride you lean back in the seat. You listen to the music more attentively when you recognize it. It’s one of the well liked local band.

It doesn’t take long for the tensions to leave your body and to slowly fall asleep with the soft rocking of the rolling car and the familiarity of the music.

“Hey. Hey wake up… you” the deep voice startles you awake. You jump a bit and then you see that the car is parked at a gas station.

The stranger, you realize now that you haven’t exchanged names yet, is fixing you with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. He’s already out of the car, arms laying on the frame of the open driver's window as he says with a smirk: “welcome back sleepy head. We’re in Grand-Falls. Time for a bathroom break and grab some food. I don’t mind if you eat in the car.”

You’re still in your sleepy haze but you can feel your face warming up. That glint on his eyes… You definitely slept weird. You can imagine it: mouth ajar and maybe some drool. OH NO, please no drool. You don’t take any chances and you hurriedly wipe your mouth. He smirks again and gives two quick taps on the roof of the car and says: “come on sleepy head, get moving we still have a long drive ahead of us”.

You scramble to get your wallet and get out of the car quickly, running after him to catch up. “Y/N.”

He gives you a side glance and replies with a small smile: “Porco. I’m still calling you sleepy head though.”

You make an offended face “seriously? I fall asleep once and I get labeled as a sleepy head?”

“You do when you fall asleep in a stranger’s car.”, he teases.

Your eyes widened, maybe you really are a bit too comfortable. Your pace quickens as you tell him “I’ll meet you at the car in a few”. You can hear him snicker behind you. It looks like he’s getting comfortable too.

It’s not long before you cross the parking lot again, this time with an armful of snacks. You spot Porco already by the car, leaning on it while waiting for you. He chuckles as he watches you struggle to hold everything.

“What’s all that, sleepy head? I said I don’t mind if you eat in the car, I didn’t mean you could organize a dinner party”, he says as he’s walking to open the door. “You should have said so, my friends are already waiting down the road to be picked up” you pull your tongue and then try to manoeuvre yourself in your seat. It’s no easy task with your bag in the way and your hands full. It’s not graceful, and the fact that you’re not putting down anything you’re holding isn’t helping. When you finally sit down, you laugh and look his way: “graceful ain’t I?”.

“Oh yeah, I do enjoy seeing someone struggle for no reason. Thanks for that.” There’s a glint in his again as he closes the door. In no time you’re back on the highway. The repetitive scenery and lulling of the car is quickly making your eyes heavy again.

“Sleepy head, if you could stay with me that'd be great”, he glances at you and continues “you know, to be on moose watch duty”.

“Oh right.. I’ve been told I’m not good at that”

“I have no problem believing that”, he chuckles.

“I’m just not used to it”, you shrug.

“Yeah I can hear you’re not from here” he glances at you again “are you from the mainland ?”

You confirm his suspicion, explain that you were working in schools up until the end of the school year and tell how you decided to stay for an undetermined amount of time. Conversation flows surprisingly easy considering your disdain for small talk.

That’s not how it feels like, you’re genuinely getting to know each other. The silences are never uncomfortable and, honestly, don't last long. You don’t hate it. You don’t hate it one bit.

You find yourself observing him, really taking in his appearance. You notice the clean undercut, the pulled back hair slightly messy from the wind, an unruled strand of hair falling to his eyes. Your gaze drops to his sharp jawline and chin then makes its way up to neck.

For fucks sake Y/N, get a grip on yourself and stop ogling him.

From the smirk he wears, you know he noticed.

Shit.

“You like what you see?” He’s still smirking.. cocky, eh?

“I would if it wasn’t for the dirt on your face.” You say that seriously and turn your eyes on the road after seeing the colours leaving his face but not his heated cheeks. One of his hands leaves the wheel to wipe his face, desperately trying to clean it up. You snort as you say: “not so cocky now, are we?” He rolls his eyes and you can’t help but chuckle.

The conversation resumes easily, this time you learn more about him. He just started university in St. John’s, he’s coming back from visiting his family. He’s studying pharmacy, but only because his parents push him to. He doesn’t actually know what he’d like to do. He even admits feeling jealous of your gap year. He would have done that if it wasn’t for the pressure he felt from his family. You’re both talking so effortlessly, you almost don’t want to get home. You don’t mind his passing cockiness, you can be too, but now that you’re both getting more and more comfortable, you both have no problem shooting a snarky remark or a sarcastic comment in response.

He’s in the middle of a sentence when he slows down and exclaim

“Oh shit! Look there!” he points to the side of the road. You follow his finger and you spot it, a black bear and her cubs. You’ve never seen anything like that before, not from so close anyway. You’re in awe as you watch the mama bear looking if she can cross. Porco brings the car to a stop and flashes his lights to warn the upcoming cars.

“ You really suck on moose watch duty, usually other animals are included, you know” he says while turning to you, but all your attention is on the scene unfolding before your eyes. You just hum in agreement as you watch the bears running across the highway.

You sigh in contentment when they’re on the other side and you turn to look him in the eyes. They are softer than expected, taking you by surprise, he really has beautiful eyes. You can only manage to say softly: “Yeah… I really should be paying more attention.” You smile at each other like idiots for a bit before he gets going again.

You feel the weight of disappointment on your shoulder when you start to see the city lights.

“So, hum, where do you live? I can drop you off, if you want” He clears his throat just before asking.

“Oh, uh, yeah. That would be nice, I live just by the campus.”

How are you nervous all of a sudden? You want to see him again, clearly. Just ask for his number when he drops you off. It’s easy. He seems to want that also. There’s nothing to be nervous about. Right? It wasn’t just polite discussion, it was actually fun. It’s not weird to want that again. Also, you could use a friend in this city. Before you know it, he turns on your street. The spiraling has to stop, otherwise you’ll just end up watching him turn the corner as he drives away.

Which is what ended up happening. So stuck in your head that you were on autopilot while he helped you bring your bag to the door. So stuck in your head that you don’t remember the goodbyes. You only came back on earth when you realized that the headlights in the distance were from his SUV. Maybe it was just a lucky coincidence, that you ended up being picked up by a nice stranger while being stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Tag list: @lue-arlert @lavenderdaisyhoney @fierydiamond @sinnerofthewalls @porcoqalliard @reiner69er

[silver-tongued-bby]

You're Mine, Chapter 6

You’re the CEO of a groundbreaking drug company in Sweden with a work/life balance that’s more work than anything else. That is before you meet Loki, who turns your world on its head in the best of ways.

Set during the first Avengers movie. This work contains explicit content and BDSM.

Pairing: Dom!Loki x Sub!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, BDSM, Smut, Dirty talk

Word Count: 3,372

You awoke to beams of sunlight streaming through the window. Turning to your side you found Loki’s long form stretched out beside you, lounging lazily with a book. He set it down to smile at you. “Good morning, älskling.”

You shivered at the timbre of his voice, smiling back at him. “‘Morning,” you stared down at the book resting on his thigh, an eyebrow raised. “The Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?” You read the title while trying, but failing to hold back a laugh.

“What?” He frowned, looking down at you with the slightest trace of a smile playing at his lips. “He’s got a lot of it right.”

Your eyes widened and you gripped his arm. “Is it the part about the dolphins?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he smiled down at you. “Definitely the dolphins.”

“How long have you been up? Wait do you even need sleep?” You furrowed your brow, settling your body closer to his. You brought your fingertips up to draw small circles over his bare chest.

“It’s not a necessity. I can go long periods without sleeping. Lately I’ve found myself reading in the evenings more than anything else,” he brought his hand over to lightly trace your arm with his fingers.

You hummed lightly at the sensation, your eyes closing briefly.

“We should go get some breakfast, älskling.” You opened your eyes to find his tender gaze studying you. “I have a few things in mind for today. You’ll need your strength,” his voice turned sinful as he continued to stroke your skin. It all sent a tremble through you, your thighs clenching.

His eyes traced over your features, a light smile at his lips. The effect he had on you was growing and the little smirk he looked down at you with told you he enjoyed every second of it.

“Breakfast,” he reminded you, sighing as he got up from the bed.

“Right,” you said as you sat up, “breakfast.”

He brought you to a small cafe nearby, with a picturesque view of the water. The conversation between the two of you flowed easily. Considering he was a thousand-year old god he had a lot to say about the current state of global politics.

“I should probably stop by my house this morning- would you like to come?” You asked, toying with the handle of your coffee mug between your fingers.

“Of course,” he nodded, his eyebrow raised. “What I have planned doesn’t require a specific location, though we may appreciate some privacy.” The velvet in his voice returned and you swallowed.

Settling up at the cafe he walked you to the underground garage of his building, back to the lot with the gleaming vehicles.

“Which one, älskling?” He asked, motioning to the cars in front of him, parked beside the Mercedes he brought to dinner last night.

“Oh,” you took a step back to look at the four cars he motioned to. “Are these all yours?” You asked, turning to him.

He nodded, hands behind his back as he watched you admire each vehicle.

“I think we’ve got to go with the jag,” you said, pointing to the deep green Jaguar in front of you.

“Excellent choice,” he mused then helped you slide in to the passenger side.

You jumped when he materialised in the driver’s seat, “Jesus Christ!”

He chuckled, “wrong god, älskling.” Turning to look at you, “I’m sorry, I’ve been holding back my powers around you though I’d like to stop that now.”

Your heart raced as you remembered what you’d thought you saw last night on the drive home. “What else can you do with them- with your powers?”

He brought his hand up under your chin, looking you evenly in the eyes. “Be a good girl and you’ll find out.”

You bit your lip and nodded, “yes, Sir.”

He gave you a chaste kiss before turning the car on and pulling out of the lot. The drive passed quickly, it was rare to see a large crowd on the roads on a Sunday.

Loki pulled the car up to your empty house and parked it out front. He helped you up the icy steps to the front door, unlocking it the two of you stepped inside.

“Your home is lovely,” he said as you removed your coats and slipped them in the closet.

“Thank you,” you smiled, “I’m really happy with it. My work can really take its toll on me, but I’ve always found peace here.” You led him through the warm wooden corridors, giving him a quick tour of everything as you went. He complimented your design decisions as well as some of the art you’d purchased over the years.

It was rare for you to have someone over who didn’t work for you in some capacity but you enjoyed showing him around, letting him in on the parts of your life rarely seen by others.

You were happy though you had to acknowledge the small part of you that worried about the day he’d need to return to his former life, leaving you behind. You chastised yourself for thinking that, it was best to enjoy your time with him while you had it.

You hadn’t realised that you’d stopped in the kitchen as you mulled over your thoughts, growing quiet as you contemplated things.

“Älskling,” Loki had turned away from the large window overlooking the frosty water, snapping you out of your thoughts. He came to you, gently holding your face as he looked in your eyes. “Where did you go just then?” He spoke tenderly, his eyes searching yours.

“I-“ you felt your cheeks grow hot. “It’s silly,” you looked down and bit your lip. You took a deep breath and looked back into his eyes, “you’re the first person I’ve really let in since I’ve been here- not just to my home but to my life. I’m so happy to have met you. I’m just trying not to get my expectations out of line with the reality of our situation.”

His brow furrowed. “And what’s that?”

“You’re an alien, a thousand year old god,” you laughed. “I can’t expect you to stay here on Earth with me. You have a family on Asgard, and a life you’ll want to return to. I’m worried the more I let you in the harder it’ll be for me to let you go when the time comes.” You smiled pitifully, turning your head away.

“Oh älskling,” he said, his head tilting as his eyes held a sorry expression. He shook his head after a moment. “I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. I have no reason to, I’m happy here. And my family-“ he stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “My family thinks I’m dead.”

“What?” You frowned, quickly running through what he told you last night mentally. He mentioned a strained relationship, but not that he’d faked his own death.

He let go of you, turning to face the window once more. “I tried to follow the right path to make my father- my family proud. But it all got turned around when I discovered my true nature.” He laughed bitterly. “I quickly learnt that no matter what I did I’d always be the outsider. My father would never accept me as he did my brother. He’d never let me rule,” he frowned. “That was difficult for me to face,” he took a deep breath. “So, I let myself fall off the Bifrost and into open space. I ended up passing through Yggdrasil- what you’d call a wormhole.”

There was silence as you digested his words, your heart in your throat. You stepped to him, gently taking a hold of his arm. “Oh Loki,” you looked up at him. “I’m so sorry.”

He chuckled, his eyes wet. “I couldn’t stand it-“ he turned his head, his expression pained. “I figured it’d be easier if I were out of the picture.”

You brought your hand up to brush a stray strand of hair behind his ear, your heart heavy.

Taking another deep breath he continued. “I was picked up by a ravager ship,” seeing your expression he explained further, “think space pirates. I made a deal with them to deliver me here- to Midgard. I’ve been here ever since.”

“And how long has that been?” You asked gently.

“A year or so,” he shook his head. “I haven’t told anyone that before.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you brought your hands up around his neck and gave him a hug. “That’s a lot to go through, let alone survive.”

“I wouldn’t do it again given the chance,” he pulled away from you to look in your eyes. “But being away from my family, from Asgard has been good for me. I’d like to stay here,” he gently traced your bottom lip with his thumb. “I’d like to explore this more- what’s between us.”

You smiled, feeling most of your prior apprehension melt away and pulled him in for a gentle kiss. “Me too,” you breathed against his lips. His arms snaked around your waist to bring you closer as he pulled you in for a deeper kiss.

Everything about him made you tremble- his scent, his firm body against yours, the way his hands strongly gripped your waist, the way he kissed you- be it gentle, hard or in-between. You found yourself gasping into his mouth, your core growing wet as he wrapped himself around you, overwhelming you in every sense of the word.

He moved from your lips momentarily, his breath heavy with your own. “Bedroom?”

You nodded and pulled away with a shaky breath in, turning to lead him down the hall. The lights came on, revealing the simplistic design of your bedroom. You turned to him, surprised to find him close behind you. He came closer, his lips almost against yours as he stared into your eyes. He brought his hand to your hip to guide you backwards towards your bed, his gaze turning predatory.

Your calves hit the end of your bed and he brought his hands up to gently hold either side of your face. His eyes searched yours for a moment before he captured your lips with his once more.

After a moment he pulled away and gave you a smile, your clothes and his disappearing with a flash of green. “Much better,” he kissed your shoulder, gently sucking on the skin.

He gripped your waist and turned the two of you before pulling you down on top of him so you were straddling him on the bed. You brought your hands up to his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex. You looked down to see his length between the two of you, already painfully hard. Bringing your eyes back up to him you dipped to lightly graze his lips with your own as you repositioned yourself to be flush against him.

You felt his hard length under your wet heat, and as you nipped at his lower lip you began to move against him. He felt so fucking good- sliding across your folds with ease with help from your excitement.

You moaned, everything about him driving you so close to the edge already. He was firmly gripping your ass, guiding you along his cock.

“That’s it, älskling. Take what you need from me,” you whimpered at the sound of his voice, the timbre of it sending heat throughout you.

He looked up at you with dark eyes as he bent to kiss your nipple, pulling the sensitive flesh into his mouth. You moaned, throwing your head back to further push yourself against him. He dragged his teeth lightly across the sensitive bud and you looked down at him, breathing heavily while you continued to move against him.

“Please,” you breathed, looking back down as your fingers slipped through his hair. You were so close, so close to letting go but you couldn’t let yourself. You needed him to say that you could cum.

“Please what, little one?” His expression was passive as he looked up at you, an eyebrow raised.

“Please- please Sir may I cum?” You asked, your heart racing. You’d tried to slow your movements against him but he’d kept the pace using his grip on you. Every muscle in your body was clenched as you fought to keep your orgasm at bay.

“My good girl,” he smiled. “I’m so proud of you, holding on for me. You may cum älskling. Cum now.” He commanded, his teeth gritting together. You came with a cry, your hips frozen in place against his as you twitched on top of him. You relished in the feel of his hot length against you, now coated in your release. He kept his eyes on you as he kissed the skin between your breasts, holding you tight as you came back to yourself.

“As much as I love this view,” he said, gripping your waist before he rolled the two of you over. “That’s better,” he grinned down at you.

Holding himself over you he gently brushed the errant strands of hair from your face. His eyes slipped from yours to trace over your skin and your heart raced, your breath heavy. “My lovely little thing,” he brought his gaze back to yours before bringing his lips to your ear, his breath warm against the sensitive skin. He gently licked the shell of your ear then captured your lobe between his teeth, the sensation causing you to cry out sharply. He chuckled darkly against the skin of your neck, “oh älskling. I love finding new ways to make you scream.” He sucked the skin behind your ear, his words leaving you dizzy with lust.

He brought himself back up to face you, looking as if he could devour you on the spot. You bit your lip and raised your hips against him, whining as you felt his length gently brush through your folds. He grabbed your face, his long fingers firmly gripping your jaw as his hips came down on yours to hold you in place.

“You needy little thing. What happened to my good girl, hm?” He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as he waited for an answer.

“I- I’m sorry Sir.” You stuttered, trying not to move as you felt his length press against you. “It’s just-“ you cut yourself off when you saw the warning look in his eyes.

“No excuses älskling. You take what I give you. I’ll fuck this sweet little cunt,” he moved his hand from your jaw to cup your heat, “when I decide you deserve my cock.”

You felt yourself tremble and grow even more wet with his words, and from his smug expression you could tell he felt it too.

“Is that clear, älskling?” He enunciated each word but all you could focus on was the feel of his hand over your heat, so close to where you needed it.

You nodded, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Say it.” He commanded, his jaw strong as he looked down at you.

“I take what you give me, Sir.” You obeyed, your voice small though your heart raced.

“Good girl.” He nodded, then moved his hand from your heat, forcing you to suppress a whimper at the loss of contact. “Now,” he wore a sinful expression, “do you want me to fuck you?”

You eagerly nodded, “yes please, Sir.”

“Prove it. Beg me. Beg me to fuck you,” his voice was deep as he dared you with his eyes.

“Please fuck me, Sir. Please- I need you to fuck me. I’m yours Sir, please.” You rushed out, desperate for him to fill you, to touch you, to keep speaking to you in that raspy tone.

“Good girl,” he brought his hand to his cock and guided it through your folds, gathering wetness and forcing a whimper from your lips. Then he slowly entered you, bit by bit, taking his time as you willed yourself to remain still.

Once he was fully seated inside you he began to thrust, slowly at first, but building to a steady rhythm. Each thrust met a deep, sensitive spot within you that hurt in the most delicious way. Your muscles clenched each time he hit it, and you’d lost your breath to short uneven spurts of air as your pleasure built.

“Oh- oh fuck, please-“ you said, unsure of what you wanted from him other than for his unrelenting thrusts.

He brought his fingers to your mouth and you eagerly sucked them, running your tongue along the pads of his finger tips. His lips curved upwards and he withdrew them, sliding them over your nipple before pinching it between his dampened digits. Your back arched at the sharp pain, your body alight with pleasure- you were close to your finish.

“Sir- I’m close, I’m close,” you said between quick puffs of air.

“I know, älskling. I can feel it. Your tight little cunt is gripping me firmer and firmer,” he let out a breath. “Gods.”

“Please, Sir- please may I cum?” You begged, your fingertips gripping the muscles of his arms as you held on for dear life.

He nodded, “yes. My good girl, you may cum. Cum for me- I want to feel you come undone on my cock.” He rasped out and you came, the pleasure overtaking your every sense. You writhed under him as you rode out your high, and after a few thrusts you felt him twitch inside of you. He moaned as he came, his eyes still locked with yours as you both came back to yourselves.

He smoothed your hair back and gently kissed you before he pulled out, his cum trickling down your thigh. Stepping back, his eyes traced over your spent body, a smile at his lips. “Beautiful.” He said before materialising a damp cloth, handing it to you so you could clean yourself.

You smiled back at him before sitting up on the bed. “Will you come with me? I want to show you my favourite part of this house,” you said, standing up and walking over to your closet to grab a robe. He materialised himself a dark silk robe to match your own before you led him back out in the hall. You pressed on the wood panelling of the hallway, opening the concealed doorway, leading to a series of steps alit with soft light.

You looked back at him- he hesitated for a moment, curious.

You threw him a wink before turning to go down the steps, leading to the bath you’d had custom built. The room was carved out into the rock that your home was built on, smooth but cool under your feet. There was a massive tub in the middle of the room, surrounded by windows that overlooked the idyllic lake. To the side against the stone there was a steam shower as well as a sauna. This was your happy place- few had seen it, only a few close friends who came to visit every now and then.

He stepped into the room, running his fingers along the large tub of hand-carved wood before he turned around, a smile on his face as he took in the room. He chuckled, “impressive.”

“I know,” you grinned as you tapped the controls for the water to fill in the bath. You stepped over to the concealed bar to fetch a bottle of red and some cold water. Setting the bottles on the side table to the tub you retrieved some glasses and poured the wine, offering him a glass as he stepped over to you. He pulled you against him and the two of you looked over the setting sun of the lake.

The tub controls beeped shortly thereafter and you both slipped your robes off before settling into the water, your back settled into his side. He distractedly played with a strand of your hair, twisting it between his fingers. Running over the whirlwind events of your weekend you had a hard time believing this all happened in such a short time.

You sighed contentedly as you rested back against him, your eyes slipping closed.

End Note: This chapter went a little softer than I'd anticipated- next week's will explore a bit more bd/sm themes, I promise! If you'd like more Loki, check out my latest fic: Summer Wine. I'll be posting Chapter 7 of You're Mine next Sunday as well as a new Loki one-shot! Thank you as always for reading.

Taglist (open!):

@fuck-is-going-on

[nevereatsoggywieners]

Winding Down / Spencer Reid x Reader

DISCLAIMER: It’s been a very hot minute since I’ve written anything, and my first time writing for Reid. I’m thinking about one that ends,,, a little differently, same basis, just different scenario. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: just fluff :)

Headcanon: Sharing a room with Reid on a case

- The team is staying at a local inn for a case but vacancy is limited so everyone has to double up

- Some people calmly pair together (Rossi and Hotch)

- Others... not so much (JJ with Emily, Morgan and Garcia)

- If you didn’t know any better it’s almost like they left you and Spencer together on purpose

- Everyone heads up to their rooms and you and Spencer swear to each other that’s its not a big deal and you’re both comfortable with it

- But you could have sworn you felt a static shock when your hands touch as you get on the elevator

- While trying to navigate the halls to your room, you guys decide to have a movie night to get your minds off the case, just enough to be refreshed for the next day

- You are Spencer are laughing after you told him he’d be sleeping outside if he chose a documentary when he opened the door, but the laughter ended pretty quick when you looked at the room

- Classic ‘there’s only one bed’ trope

- And not like a california king sized bed, a full sized mattress

- Spencer nearly runs out of breath trying to explain he’ll sleep on the floor

- You give in but let him know he’s welcome on the bed if he changes his mind

- Only because you don’t want his back to hurt tomorrow, of course

-You quickly bring up the movie night again to change the subject, you decide on your favorite, he chooses Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

- You guys get changed into comfier clothes and get settled on the bed with a bag of popcorn you nabbed from the little lobby shop downstairs

- He’s only on the bed because it’s easier to share the popcorn though, duh

- You start to drift off towards to end of the second movie and end up laying on Spencer’s shoulder, he doesn’t move you even though he can barely reach the popcorn now

- You wake up as the credits start to roll

- You both brush you teeth together in the bathroom, making stupid faces together

- He takes a quick shower after you go back into the room, Hotch calls him

- “Reid, how you holding up?”

- “Huh, what? I’m fine, I’m good, we’re good, not too good, just a normal, respectable amount of good, I-“

- “Calm down, I’m just making sure everyone made it to their rooms okay.”

- Spencer tries to keep his word vomit to a minimum after that

- Again, Spencer is back on the bed with you

- ONLY because there isn’t a lamp on the floor and he liked to read before bed

- You try to go to sleep but can’t so you ask him to read to you, you say its because you hope ‘Why String Theory Works’ will bore you and because him reading and flipping the pages so fast makes you anxious

- You fall alseep on his shoulder again, he stops reading once he’s sure you’re out

- He tried to move to sleep on the floor but you sleepily and probably without realizing swing an arm over his waist and squeeze a little, brows furrowed in protest

- He freezes, sucking in a breath until you’re breathing goes back to normal and your feature smooth out again

- Instead he carefully turns off the lamp and lays on his back so he doesn’t wake you

- You’ve shifted so your head is basically on his chest and the thump thump of his heart seeps its way into your dream

- You guys wake up like that, mostly in the same position, but now he’s on his side, arms around you

- You wake up mostly at the same time he wakes up a minute or two before but pretends he’s still asleep til you start to stir

- You both kinda laugh it off and get ready to meet the team in the lobby

- No one says anything, but everyone notices you wearing his scarf because you ‘left yours at home’

- It smells like an intoxicating mixture of his cologne and your perfume

[badwasabi]

WRITING ADVICE: How not to write thoughts

Disclaimer: The following advice represents the opinions of One Nitpicky Guy. Readers should accept or reject it as they please. 

Jen opened her door and stepped out into the night.

“Hello?” she called. “Anyone out here?”

The trees rustled, blocking the streetlight. She mused that she had told Chris to cut them back, but nooo, he just said he’d get to it. Someday.

She pulled her handgun from her coat pocket, flicked on the flashlight, and panned it around the yard. Nothing. She wondered what had made the noise.

With her left hand, she reached for the porch light, tightened the bulb.

Nope, she thought, still out. But she decided not to stick around and replace it, not at night.

Something rustled in the bushes to her left, and her gun snapped around.

“Come out with your hands up!” she yelled, her heart beating loud in her ears.

A grey cat - the neighbour’s cat, Jen recalled - sauntered out of the bushes, stared at her insolently. As cats do.

She lowered her gun, and went “Jeez, Malky! You scared me half to death!”

She could just barely make out the cat’s features, the eerie greenish glow in his eyes. He looked at her, then right past her. Which meant, she reasoned, as the hairs on the back of her neck went up, that there might be someone right behi-

She was surprised when the killer’s arm wrapped around her throat.

There are certain words that you see a lot in writing, which are almost never used in conversation. If you think there’s a prowler in your backyard, you don’t call 911 and say “Police? I think I see a figure hiding in my primroses!” You don’t look at someone’s “features” when they’re talking to you, you look at their face. I’ve never “regarded” anyone, and how many of us actually know what “flashing eyes” would look like?*

IMO, it’s fine to use words like this in, say, an article or opinion piece, which is deliberately artificial. If you’re writing a story that’s in omniscient third-person (EG Hitchiker’s, Discworld), sure, why not. But using these terms in a close third-person or first-person narrative can be somewhat jarring, even if the reader never consciously notices.

And some of the biggest offenders are the “thought” words.

In reality, people don’t really “muse”. We seldom “consider”. Or “make mental notes”. Not in our own heads. Have you ever been telling a story about something you did, and you went “and then I made a mental note?”

One common mistake is going “X thought of [subject]” without ever explaining, thus;

Dolores licked her lips as she thought of what she’d do to that sandwich.

as opposed to

Dolores licked her lips. First she’d pick up the sandwich, gently, gently. She’d nibble at the end, just a bit, just to get a little taste. Then she’d open her mouth as wide as it could go and take that big chomp-

That’s a stronger image, more evocative. If you have to use “X thought of [subject]”, try to use it like a sort of thesis statement.

Dolores licked her lips as she thought of what she’d do to that sandwich. First she’d pick it up, gently, gently. She’d nibble at the end, just a bit, just to get a little taste. Then she’d open her mouth as wide as it could go and take that big chomp-

or

Dolores licked her lips as she thought about what she’d do to that sandwich. She thought about how she’d pick it up, gently, gently. About nibbling at the end, just a bit, just to get a little taste. Then she’d open her mouth as wide as it could go and take that big chomp-

In general, try to avoid saying “X thought of [subject]” just by itself and letting it sit there. There needs to be some kind of payoff. Even if it doesn’t show up right away. Even something like another character breaking them out of their thoughts.

I see way too many people who just use “X thought of [subject]” to summarize a character’s thoughts, but don’t unpack.

But more importantly for these tips are what I like to call inline thoughts. It’s when you present the characters thoughts, in the text, without italics. While I like to use ‘inline’ thoughts for the POV character, I sometimes used italicized thoughts when I want to give emphasis.

Speaking of interruptions;

Jimmy frowned.

Well, someone with no taste might think “Dangerous” is the better album, but it’s clearly “Bad”.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash from the next room.

Never say that. Just show the interruption, and then what interrupted.

Jimmy frowned.

Well, someone with no taste might think “Dangerous” is the better album, but it’s clearly “Ba-”

There was a loud crash from the next room.

Also, some people use single quotes to indicate thoughts. As far as my highly-compensated** research team can tell, this is grammatically incorrect, and you shouldn’t do it ever.

You know what’s even worse? No, not 'irregardless’, though that counts. Using both italics and single quotes. Which gets especially confusing when it’s in the same paragraph as italicized dialogue.

“Look,” I said, “I’ll get you the money, so you don’t need to be all nice place you have here, shame if something happened to it.” ’Please don’t ask how, please don’t ask how, Please don’t-’

Please don’t write

X, I thought to myself.

Pop quiz; how many stories are there where the protagonist has access to telepathy? Mind-to-mind communication?

Not many.

Exactly. So who else would they be thinking to?

If your writing is focused on a POV character, you generally don’t have to use “X noticed/saw/perceived/reasoned/etc.” Just describe what they saw, just like you described the interruption instead of telling the audience there was an interruption.

Look at this “inline” bit;

Sanjay locked his computer, picked up his smartphone, and headed for the empty break roo-

Oh.

“Hi,” Ingrid said.

“Hey.”

Now, watch what happens when I tell, not show.

Sanjay locked his computer, picked up his smartphone, and headed for what he thought was an empty break room. Needless to say, he was surprised to find Ingrid already there.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey.”

Just kinda sucked the emotion right out of it.

But what if I want to convey a non-verbal thought? Like an impulse?

Well, Timmy, then you lie.

What?

Lie. Fake it.

Carlos had a sudden urge to tickle his cat.

vs 

Carlos looked at his cat. He could tickle her…

or

Carlos looked at his cat. Would she mind being tickled?

As a general rule, you should use thought verbs the way you’d use “said”  verbs. For me, that means 'not at all, if possible’.

“So what’s the problem?” Jones asked.

“The anklet says she has a pretty set routine,” Brown said. “Home, work, grocery store. Sometimes she jogs around the block. But on one day, the day of the explosion, she stops at this donut shop. If she didn’t have a sudden craving for some Timbits…”

Jones thought that was interesting. “Coincidence?”

Vs

If she didn’t have a sudden craving for some Timbits…“

Interesting. "Coincidence?”

or

If she didn’t have a sudden craving for some Timbits…“

Interesting. "Coincidence?”

Or

If she didn’t have a sudden craving for some Timbits…“ Jones leaned forward. "Coincidence?”

Or

Jones’ eyes narrowed. “Coincidence?”

Or

Jones narrowed his eyes. “Coincidence?”

Remember when I said you should generally use thought verbs like said verbs? That doesn’t often apply when you’re using physical reactions instead of thought tags (which I personally prefer). People put more weight on actions than words, and from the outside we can only know most people’s thoughts by what they do and say. More specifically, try to put the physical reaction before the dialogue.

Sometimes you may want to use “X thought” to make the narration seem disconnected and distant from the POV characters. Let’s say some character has a concussion or just got some shocking news.

Jane blinked. “I’m sorry, what?” “There was a complication,” the doctor said. “His heart stopped on the table.” This is impossible, Jane thought. “No, he can’t…I just talked to him yesterday. How can he be de-dea-”

or

Jane blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“There was a complication,” the doctor said. “His heart stopped on the table.”

Jane thought it was impossible. “No, he can’t…I just talked to him yesterday. How can he be de-dea-”

This works even in first person.

I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“There was a complication,” the doctor said. “His heart stopped on the table.”

This is impossible, I thought. “No, he can’t…I just talked to him yesterday. How can he be de-dea-”

Any questions?

Good Hunting -Jon

PS: Oh, right, forgot;

Jen opened her door and stepped out into the night.

“Hello?” she called. “Anyone out here?”

The trees rustled, blocking the streetlight. She told Chris to cut them back, but nooo, he just said he’d get to it. Someday.

She pulled her handgun from her coat pocket, flicked on the flashlight, and panned it around the yard. Nothing. What had made the noise.

With her left hand, she reached for the porch light, tightened the bulb. Nope, still out. Best not to stick around and replace it, not at night.

Something rustled in the bushes to her left, and her gun snapped around.

“Come out with your hands up!” she yelled, her heart beating loud in her ears.

A grey cat - the neighbour’s cat- sauntered out of the bushes, stared at her insolently. As cats do.

She lowered her gun, and went “Jeez, Malky! You scared me half to death!”

She could just barely see the cat’s face, the eerie greenish glow in his eyes. He looked at her, then right past her. The hairs on the back of her neck went up. Was there someone right behi-

A strong arm wrapped around her throat.

* I do. But that’s another show. ** I throw a cheeseburger down their dungeon steps sometimes

[narwhallove]

Behind the Curtain: Interview with Romy Writer Ludi-Ling

House of Cards actually started out as a random smut scene that burgeoned into something far, far more.

@ludi-ling goes meta in our final interview about her writing process; how the Romy fandom’s changed over the years; alternate universes (AU); and the role of smut for Romy fans. (Spoiler alert, our heroes are hot.)

No surprise that it’s a pleasure interviewing Ludi. I kept sending her more questions (25 total!) because her responses fascinated me and inspired me to ask more. It’s a rare person who writes visceral, startling prose and can also talk about her work with clarity, intelligence, and an affection for her characters that doesn’t occlude good writerly judgment.

The superlatives don’t end there. Anyone who knows the community knows that Ludi is a friend to her readers and to her fellow writers. As we all enter a heady 2019, reading Mr. and Mrs. X together, Ludi is someone to cherish.

If you haven’t read our other interviews, please check out: Part 1 of interviews: X-men Origins Part 2 of interviews: Going Dark

As a scholar of fan studies, do you believe Romy fanfiction fulfills needs that Marvel never can? What needs might those be, for Romy fans?

Certainly I think that fanfic is built on the premise of filling in the gaps, scribbling in the margins (to quote the seminal fan studies scholar, Henry Jenkins!) and fixing perceived wrongs. Comics are unique in that regard because the characters and stories within them continue for years and even decades. Comics continuities are convoluted and complicated, and there is a constant churn of writers working on them. Many fans have followed characters for far longer than the writers, and may know the characters more intimately than the professionals. Comics are full of retcons and contradictory takes on the characters. And I think fanfic is an important medium for allowing fans to “fix” that, to negotiate it. Because of the ongoing nature of comics, and because the futures of the characters are always going to be nebulous and subject to the whims of Marvel and the writers indefinitely, I think it’s going to continue to be important. Romy may be married in the comics, but there will still be plenty to write about—kids, divorce, a reconciliation . . . who knows? ;) 

What do you think Romy readers seek out when they read fanfiction? If it’s wish fulfillment, what kinds of wishes are being fulfilled? If it’s looking for “gaps” that the comics skip over, what have you found to be the most common sorts of gaps?

I think Romy is a very interesting example of the “wish fulfillment” function of fanfiction. Because part of the mystique of that ship (no pun intended) is that they can’t touch, they can’t consummate their relationship . . . And fanfic is a way that fans can get them to touch, to work out that angst. I think that one of the staples of Romy fic is the sexual tension between the two, and how they resolve that; the push and pull between them. Sometimes these take place in epic, superheroic backdrops, sometimes in AUs, where they have no mutant powers and where the tension between them is born from other factors (such as already having significant others, or being enemies, or in illicit lines of work).

What draws you to AUs? Your stories aren’t a case of fanfiction filling what’s “between panels”; you tend to shift characters and relationships to entirely different settings, whether it’s a Strange Days–like world or another genre, like a Southern gothic procedural. Can you talk about AUs and how they play out in your imagination?

What I’ve always liked is world-building. One of my first large-scale writing projects was a fantasy trilogy called The Legend of Elu. Most of the fun I got from that was actually building the world, the kingdoms, the mythology, the theology, the languages, the history of that story. That definitely bled into my fanfic.

Now I tend to write canon stuff as one-shots, and novel-length stuff as AUs, because they give me more space to play with world-building. That was something I realised I enjoyed more when I wrote Threads. Writing all those little worlds in a series of one-shots felt too “small.” HoC was originally an expansion of the Threads tale Touch and Go, but it grew into something else, and since then, I’ve preferred to go the AU route for the longer-form stories. :)

We’re living in peak Romy times—I think we’re still reeling from the wedding! Let’s say you had the power to go back in time and drop a pin into an earlier moment in the Romy timeline that you felt truly represents what Romy means to you (which isn’t the same as when they’re happiest!). When and in what universe? Why this choice?

There are so many iconic moments from Romy’s past, but, for me personally, I always go back to their time in Valle Soleada (in X-Treme X-Men). That’s not because they’re happy per se, but because I think that that period was the perfect example of how great they worked together on every level, and was proof positive that they were a good match. I often say it, but I will say it again here, because it’s the truth, and y’all can fight me to the death over it—if there was a time they would’ve got married and I would’ve bought it 100%, it would’ve been in Valle Soleada.

On Tumblr, it seems a large contingent of Romy fans are women in their 30s who discovered Romy at a tender age, thanks to the animated series. This includes you and me! There are exceptions, of course. What’s it like for you to have been in the fandom from the early aughts? What changes in the fandom have you noticed between 2003 and 2018?

I really joined the fandom at an exciting time for Romy—they’d just got back together properly after all the turmoil of the Trial of Gambit. X-Treme X-Men was a treat for Romy fans, and Claremont wrote such a great dynamic between them. As fans we were all excited and happy and well-fed on all that Romy goodness.

So it was weird (not to mention disappointing) when the 2004 reboot happened, and Marvel did everything they could to tank Romy. Which is one thing, and I can stomach it if [it were] logically and well written, but it was just so terribly done that I think many of us just tapped out of the fandom completely. I’d say 2005–2018 were fallow years for the Romy fandom. Most (if not all) of the fan friends I made at that time completely left the fandom. For myself, as someone who enjoys writing AUs, it was the perfect time to branch out from writing in canon and fitting Romy into my own world.

Who are your influences? What writers do you feel a particular affinity for? Are there writers whom we might be surprised to discover informed your work, but you feel have, despite appearances?

I was heavily influenced by the dark, modern fairytales of Angela Carter about the time that I was writing Queen of Diamonds and Threads. She had a really magical way with words—her prose was lyrical, sensual, and unbelievably rich. She was a huge inspiration, but later I moved away from her tone, firstly because I felt I was doing a poor imitation of her, secondly because it wasn’t really appropriate for the direction I wanted to move my fics in, and lastly because I was becoming self-conscious of my insane verbosity and wanted to pare down my prose. That’s something I’m still working on!

At some point during the writing of House of Cards, I finally got round to reading Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and I think it was Douglas Adams who convinced me to move away from Carter’s beautiful but too-flowery prose. I loved the way his narrative just sizzled. I’m bad at capturing that energy—but I do think that from HoC onwards, I’ve tried to learn to be more economical with my words—which is hard for a florid soul like mine. 

Threads—structurally at least—was influenced by Italo Calvino’s If On a Winter’s Night a Traveller, and later, by David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas. 

Let’s say you can pair your fiction with other works of art—of all forms, films, paintings, music, etc.—as if you were pairing wines to foods. What other pieces of art might you say go along with yours?

Wow! OK—that’s hard. Threads I’d probably pair with Cloud Atlas (the book, not the film, which I haven’t yet watched). HoC—I don’t know that there’s any one thing I would pair it with, but you can bet a load of post-apocalyptic stuff was thrown into that stew, along with a bit of The Matrix and probably some Inception.

52 Pickup was influenced a lot by Asmus’s Gambit run, cos I really wanted to write a heist fic with Remy and Rogue rather than Remy and Joelle (who I freely admit kicked ass). But if I had to pair it with a piece of media, it’d be with the video game Remember Me, which dealt a lot with themes of how memories inform our identities, and the ethical concerns of having memories essentially become “documents” that are uploaded and shared digitally through the cloud.

This is a good segue to talk about high-low culture. We may not want to believe in a hierarchy of culture, but we can certainly talk about the differences between fanfiction and “regular fiction.” When you read fanfiction, do you approach it differently than you would regular fiction? Are your expectations for form, reading pleasure, or anything else different? If so, how so?

Interesting question! I don’t know whether I approach it differently per se, but I think that readers have different expectations of fanfic. Hopefully we all read “regular fiction” for the same reason we read fanfic—for pleasure. But I don’t think there’s really a binary between regular and fanfiction. I think both exist on a continuum. There is a lot of “regular fiction” (I prefer to call it “profic” or “professional fiction,” because I think that’s where the binary between the two exists) that is actually very close to fanfic, and vice versa. By that I mean that there is plenty of fanfic that is epic in scope, deals with serious themes, and might be considered “classics” if they weren’t fanfiction.

And there is also profic, like romance, that is more similar to fanfic in terms of the kind of functions that it serves. There is an illicit pleasure to reading romance—for example, it’s not the kind of thing you’d openly read in public! There’s a similarity between that and fanfic, and I think, as readers of fanfic, we anticipate some level of illicitness when we approach it—even if the illicitness is only in the format (i.e., it’s fanfiction!), not in the content.

Fun question: What role do you think explicit smut functions in a fic? How do you deal with smut in your work? There’s an interesting moment that’s not in HoC, in which you write about Gambit and Rogue’s first time having sex in his point of view. It’s a separate chapter that exists as its own entity on your fanfiction.net page. Notably, it is much more explicit than the scene in Rogue’s perspective. Can you talk a little bit about this decision?

Well, I do think that fanfic is a safe space for writers to explore their sexuality (and I think that’s a huge part of the reason why fic is looked down upon), and smut plays a significant role in that. And smut certainly plays a part in my own fics. HoC actually started out as a random smut scene that burgeoned into something far, far more. Generally, I do try to make the sex scenes have a purpose in the plot (’cos I’m kind of anal about plot structure!), but in the particular case of Slow Burn and the other HoC vignettes, those are more self-contained one-shots where I could explore things that I couldn’t explore in the main story. So I could indulge in the smut a bit more! And let’s be honest—Gambit’s dark sexuality makes it thrilling to write smut from his perspective—of course his “thoughts” are going to be more explicit! ;)

But I also think that it’s interesting to write their individual perspectives on their sexual encounters, because of that tension between their characters. Rogue is the quintessential virginal Southern Baptist gal who’s inexperienced; whereas Gambit is the sexually aggressive alpha male who’s probably never had a woman turn him down in his life. That makes for a very combustive love affair between the two, and makes it fun to write that love affair (and all the smut in-between) from both their points of view.