#i can do small things to like. stimulate the brain and keep me sane. but i cant work on any big projects

[rolandkaros]

the next month or so is about to be probably the most stressful month of my entire life

[silversatoru]

hands

sukuna x f!reader

a/n: remember that thirst i posted the other night about sukunas fingernails? u bet i wrote a quick fic about it. i am not sorry

synopsis: an exploratory study on the intricacies of what sukuna could do with those goddamn hands of his 

tags/warnings: 18+, pain kink, scratching, mentions of blood, biting, bruising, hitting, blindfolding, restraints, overstimulation, monster fucking, dom sukuna, very soft aftercare sukuna (<3)

word count: 1.8k

One of Sukuna’s long, sharp nails traced down your body, from your neck to your toes and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He placed his talon on your neck for the second time, trailing it down your body again but pressing a little harder this time. Shivers quaked through your body as he left a puffy red line down your skin. He ran his finger over your exposed clit, a sharp bolt of pain and electricity shooting through your veins. 

Sukuna had you completely at his disposal, hands secured tightly behind your back and eyes covered by a thick blindfold. He loved to see you shiver under his touch — quake and twitch as he gave you nothing but the bare minimum. 

You felt the bed shift as he straddled himself over you and leaned down, his breath hot against your neck. His long, warm tongue left a streak of sticky saliva up your neck, and then he blew cold air on the wet skin, sending more quivers through your body. 

“Look at you baby, looking like such a pretty slut for me,” He cooed between licks, the praise coaxing a few soft moans from your lips. 

His tongue disappeared and was quickly replaced by pointed teeth and soft nibbles. Your body gushed with pleasure as you felt a second and third mouth nipping and lapping from Sukuna’s hands at your torso. His ability to duplicate his body parts wherever he wanted gave him terrible amounts of power in situations like this. 

You could barely handle the tripled stimulation, your head growing foggy with desire and your mouth filled with strangled moans. A resounding whimper leapt from your throat as the mouths got more aggressive, dotting your skin with discolored marks. They nibbled and gnawed on every inch of you, squeezing down to give the occasional bite, which sent you spiraling. The sharp pains felt indescribable, every single sting absolutely electrifying. A mixture of pain and pleasure crawled over your skin as he continued to cover your body in imperfections.

“It’s pitiful how quickly you come undone for me, princess,” The words dripped off his tongue like thick honey. 

Your clit twitched at his words, but you refused to be embarrassed or ashamed by how pitiful you looked right now — not when he was making you feel this good.

Not being able to see or resist his actions made them all the more exhilarating, your heart pounding as he sat up. Your skin felt cold and empty without his tongues keeping you warm, and goosebumps trailed up your arms as the anticipation of what he would do next grew greater. 

The mouth that belonged to his face connected with yours, and one of his hands clasped over your cunt — a mouth for each pair of lips. Quivering whimpers and raspy whines spilled from your throat into his, the tongue from his hand working fervently on your aching entrance. The pleasure was almost intolerable as the second mouth engulfed your cunt, it’s tongue swirling small circles around the swollen nub. Your body began to tremble underneath him, your toes curling and legs shaking. 

Two extra arms boiled their way out of sukuna’s body, each lurching foward and grasping a handful of your breasts. He kneaded and massaged them in the roughest way, his nails leaving small scratches as he worked. Two of his fingers grasped each of your nipples, twisting and rubbing them with incredible force — your body twitching and teeth clenching together. Between the rough kisses, nipple simulation, and hot tongue that was eating away at your cunt, you thought you just might combust. Your body was incredibly overstimulated, trembles rolling under your skin over and over.

Eventually his tongue slowed, leaving lazy licks up and down your cunt now. The antagonizingly slow pace made your skin crawl, frustration building inside of you. Your hips rolled out of desperation, you needed more of him so badly — but this just earned a rough a slap to the side of your torso. His motion left a large, red hand mark in its place, your skin aching and tingling as your eyes rolled back into your head from complete bliss.

Sukuna sucked in a sharp breath, it was impossible to punish you like this, ecstasy surging through you every time he inflicted pain on your body. But it was also what made you so perfect for each other, your ability to handle whatever he wished to do to you. Regardless, he’d need to find other means of punishment, like restricting you until the last second — not letting your pretty little cunt come until you completely deserved it.

His second mouth shot its tongue deep inside your entrance, curling and lapping at your hot cavern. A warm feeling began to boil in your stomach, your climax inching closer and closer from the wonderful feeling. Throaty groans ripped through your teeth, your back arching and legs growing stiff as you trembled right on the cusp. Just as you thought you might fall over the edge, the hand disconnected from your aching clit — strings of curse words and echoes of Sukuna’s name flying from your lips. 

“Not yet, baby,” he purred, “You know it’s not that easy. You need to make me feel good before you get to come”. 

You gave him a desperate nod, the need for his cock growing increasingly more intense as he left you laying untouched. You whispered a strangled combination of “yes”, “please”, and various curse words, bucking your hips forward. 

“Look at you, so fucking eager for me,” His voice was almost a snarl now, “Open those pretty legs”. 

You wordlessly obliged, pulling your legs wider and stretching yourself for the ravenous curse. A deep, throaty groan rippled out of his mouth at the pretty sight of you, his own needs growing stronger than his desire to keep you waiting. 

He wrapped his thick fingers around his now exposed shaft, giving it a few lazy pumps as he stared down at your quivering body — your hands still pulling on your knees and stretching yourself open in the most beautiful way. He was aching to stuff himself inside of you, to fill you up and feel you squirm under his grasp. After a few more strokes up his girthy length he positioned himself in front of you, pressing his swollen tip into your clit. Your body jerked and twitched from the feeling, an evil smile stretching across his face at the sight. 

“Maybe I should make you wait a little longer,” He teased, moving his inflamed head up and down the entrance to your cunt. 

A small “no” was all you could manage, your lips trembling as you spoke — but it was perfect. Your fragile state and utter helplessness was exactly the motivation he needed to thrust himself into you without warning. A suffocated scream lurched from your throat, a horrible pain filling your stomach as you struggled to adjust to his monsterous size. 

He grasped your waist with an incredible force, his talons sinking into your skin and drawing blood. The small crescent-shaped cuts from his nails felt like tiny flames igniting on your skin, sending endorphins bursting through your brain. Between the pleasure derived from that pain and your body becoming accustomed to his member you were caught up in absolute bliss — your head spinning and your vision growing cloudy.

Sukuna let out a raspy, feral growl, his pace almost too much for you to handle. “You take me so well, pretty girl,” He mumbled, scratching one of his hands down the front of your chest.

His nails left more red lines down your fragile skin, small droplets of blood leaking down your torso. The continued overstimulation of burning pain and forceful pleasure was enough to brim your eyes with tears, choked sobs beginning to force their way out of your throat. His two extra hands were still working on your breasts too, the lumps aching and smeared with blood from the small wounds he continued to inflict.

His occasional praises were the only thing that kept you sane, your heart doing small backflips every time he used such endearing names for you. The scale between calling you princess and then lacerating your skin and railing you into oblivion somehow balanced itself perfectly in your mind. 

A tight, warm knot began to churn itself in your core, and you began to move in sync with Sukuna’s body. You were so desperate to reach your climax and coat his member in your fluids — you’d been deprived of this for much too long now. 

You were incredibly lucky that Sukuna pitied you as much as he did, because the curse didn’t really have a breaking point. Honestly, he’d fuck you straight through the night if you’d let him, but he tries to limit himself to accommodate to your poor, human body. 

He can tell you’re close now, whispering encouragement and coaxing sweet moans to fall from your lips. When he finally tells you to come, giving you the permission you so frantically needed, you let yourself completely unravel. You melted into a mess of whimpers, moans, and trembles — waves of euphoria surging through your body. Your tight walls became impossibly tighter, squeezing his aching cock and pushing him to his climax just a few moments after yours. He thrusted hard into your shuddering legs, pumping you full of his liquids and snarling strings of curses and praises into your ear. 

The two of you collapsed into a messy heap of contentment, your skin tainted with mixtures of blood, sweat, and semen. After a few minutes to compose himself, Sukuna scooped you into his arms and carried you to the bathroom. He was so incredibly gentle with his aftercare, but you never pointed it out because he got terribly insecure when you did. He hated admitting that he felt more than just lust for such a worthless human like yourself.

“You did so good, princess,” He cooed, holding you tight to his chest.

He untied your arms and removed the blindfold from your face, placing a soft kiss to your forehead. He sat you down in the bathtub and turned on the warm water, using a soft washcloth to gently scrub the various liquids from your skin. Once you were clean and dry he even rubbed some ointment over each of your cuts, not wanting them to get inflamed or infected. 

After making up for the damage he did to your frail body, he effortlessly lifted you back up and carried you back to bed. The two of you laid in silence while he played with your hair, softly scratching and massaging your scalp with the same nails that had done such serious damage earlier. They were much more soothing now, the soft sensation helping you to drift closer to sleep while you laid curled in his arms.

[kaclan]

KICKS IN UR DOOR BUNI PLEASE WRITE "i want it to hurt" with HOUND PLEASE

Asdfghjkl!! I hope you like it Shorty! Thank you so much for requesting this!! 

Warning: NSFT/18+ , Unprotected sex, AMAB Bloodhound, gender nuetral reader.

You decide to like my content, please consider a reblog! Thank you so much!

You groaned as Bloodhound nipped at your neck, their breath hot against your pulse. You were pinned to the bed by their form, legs spread wide with Bloodhound seated perfectly between them. Their hands trailed down your naked form, finger tips mapping out every inch of you. Making sure to give extra attention to any scars they pass over. You wrapped your arms around their neck, drawing their attention back to your face. 

You kissed them eagerly. They laughed, slipping their tongue past their lips to lick your bottom lip. You open up to them immediately. Your tongues collide in an explosion of passion. Bloodhound lifts a hand to the back of your neck. Rubbing comforting circles with their thumb against your cheek.

Their other hand moved to your leg, pinning your thigh to their hip. You felt a cool liquid begin to pool at your lower belly. You sneaked a peek, watching the last bits of precum fall from their pretty pink tip down to your skin. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip, a surge of arousal shot straight into your core. 

“Do you see, Elskan” Comes Bloodhound's shaky voice, “Do you see what you do to me? Do you see how..hh- painfully hard you make me, beloved.” 

They dive their face into your neck, just behind your left ear. Taking in a long inhale of your scent. “You are so beautiful, Ástvinur. So beautiful and open for me.”

You whined, your hips bucking in hopes of finding friction, but to no avail. Bloodhound had predicted your move and swayed their hips away just out of reach. They laughed at you as they watched a pout form across your lips. 

Before you could verbally object, your lips collided once more. Bloodhound invading your mouth passionately with their tongue. They could feel how desperate you have become. How much you needed their cock just by how you fought against the hand pinning your hips to the bed. 

Bloodhound parted from you, taking their cock in hand and moving the tip painfully slow around your entrance. 

“God fuck- Hound…” You whined, hops bucking once again. 

“Beg for it, darling. I want to hear you say it.”

You bit your lip at the feeling of your walls clenched on nothing. When you didn’t reply fast enough Bloodhound pushed the tip of their cock to your entrance, but making such not to enter you. You yelled out in frustration, arms grabbing at the pillow behind you. 

“I’ll make you feel so good Elskan, I promise, but you must ask me first. Come on, my love. You can do it. Ask me.” They buck their hips into you again and you snapped. 

“God!- Please fuck me, Hound! Please fuck me! Ooh please pleasepleasepl-ease!”

“As you command, Elskan mín.” 

Bloodhound eases their hardened member into you slowly. Make sure to give you time for your body to accommodate their size before pushing in deeper. 

Bloodhound took a deep breath through their nose. They moaned as they seat the rest of their cock inside of you. Your walls twitch around them. “You feel so good, Elskan.” Their breath was shaky as they kissed you, starting to move their hips slowly. “So warm and tight for me.” 

The pace was tantalizingly sweet. Their entire length moves in and out of you, hitting your center repeatedly, pushing every last inch of themselves inside of you, before pulling out completely. Repeating the process over. Bloodhound groaned into your ear, enjoying the feeling of filling you up.

Bloodhound has always been good at making love to you. Always calculating just the right amount of pleasure to just tip you over the edge. 

For weeks now you have been feeling like there was something missing in the bedroom. Like they had been holding back. You loved Bloodhound and you loved how tender and gentle they can be with you. But you didn’t want that tonight. 

You wanted them to fuck you. 

“Hound! God-“ You grabbed a hold of their face between your hands. They froze, staring into your eyes, their confusion was very prominent on their features. They started to worry that they had hurt you or something. 

“My love?” Their voice was so soft to your ears. Their hand moves from your leg and rests just below your ribs. They rubbed the skin there with their thumb. 

“Is everything alrigh-?”

“Yes yes! Everything is fine just- god Hound, harder! please-  Just...fuck my brains out! Please! I know you are afraid you are gonna hurt but I know you won’t! I trust you, Blòth. Please! Stop holding back and. Fuck. Me!” Your cheeks burned from your sudden outburst. You didn’t know exactly what came over you but you didn’t care. Bloodhound needed to hear this. They needed to know that it was okay to be rough with you.

Bloodhound didn’t say a word. Staring deep into your eyes. Processing your words carefully within their mind. They leaned forwards, lips barely an inch from yours. They didn’t break their gaze as they pushed a few strands of hair from your face, their hand coming down to hold you cheek lovingly. . 

“Are you sure, beloved. I don't wish to harm you.” 

“Yes! Yes. Please...I wan- Fuck! I want it to hurt, Hound. I like the pain. I love it when you bite my neck! My thighs! It hurts sooo good, Hound…please! You won’t break me, I promise!” 

Something snapped inside Bloodhound. You could see it in their eyes. A slightest red hue burned around their pupils. They said something in their native tongue, rough and firm, and it made you quake. A growl from deep within their chest and you melted. Your walls flexing tightly around Bloodhound’s stiff member and your hips snapped forward. 

“Elskan.” They warned, nails digging into your thigh. You yelped. The pain settled easily into pleasure. The idea of having a mark there later for you to admire in the mirror had you moaning, long and full of lust, right into Bloodhound's ear. 

Bloodhound hummed, pulling themself free from you. They lined themselves up at your entrance once again. They kissed you hungerly, biting at your bottom lip with their sharp metal canines. They pressed their forehead into yours. Their breath shook, eyes darting across your face, looking for something. 

“Last chance, Elskan. Tell me to stop. And we will continue from where we left off.” You smiled, appreciating Bloodhound concern for your comfortability. But there was another reason. A small twitch in the eye. The fingers clutching onto you like you were the only thing keeping them sane. That your words were holding them back from snapping at any moment. That once they let go they wouldn’t be able to control themselves.

“Yes! God yes! Please Bòth! Please..”

Those words were all it took. Without warning Bloodhounds hips snapped into yours, shoving their whole cock deep inside you. They continued to do this, pulling their hips back and slamming into your wet heat, building a brutal pace. They changed the angle, lifting up your lower back making it easier for them to hit that spot they knew drove you wild. You screamed as the pace continued without any signs of slowing down. Your walls stretched painfully good around them. Adapting quickly to their constant attacks to your entrance. 

“Aaah- mmm fuck yes, Hound. Right there! Don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” 

Bloodhound always loved how vocal you were in bed. Your pretty little sounds were music to their ears. Bloodhound left bite marks across your neck in response. Sucking hard on the flesh before pulling back to view their work. They were going to bruise. Good. Bloodhound was going to enjoy watching you scramble to find clothing that would cover these up in the morning. 

Your first orgasm snuck up on you, hitting harder than you had expected. You screamed out in pure ecstasy, your voice filling the whole room. Neighbors definitely heard you. Oh but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your whole body was convulsing, your inner walls grabbing tightly onto Bloodhound dick. Bloodhound fucked you through it. Keeping up the same pace as you rode out your orgasm. Their own not that far behind them. 

Bloodhound was unforgiving. The over stimulation was driving you insane. Your next orgasm is already building up and you barely had time to catch your breath from the last one. 

“Is this what you want, Elskan?” Bloodhound growled above you. “For me to fuck you till you can’t even remember your own name?” 

“Yes, yes fuck, yes!” You chanted and Bloodhound smirked. Appreciating the view below them. You were a damn mess. Hair damp, sticking to your face. Your chest shimmering in the evening light. 

“You take my cock so well, sweet thing. Look at you. So perfect like this. Looking like a complete wreck.” They bite down on your neck, hard. Their canines piercing your skin. Small trickles of blood were quickly cleaned up by Bloodhound’s tongue. “Do you know what it does to me when I see this? To know that I was the one to bring you such pleasure.” 

Bloodhounds cock twitched at their own words. They know you felt it and laughed. “My point exactly.” 

They grabbed a hold of your legs, never once slowly down their hips, and wrapped them around their waist, pulling you closer against them. Bloodhound loomed over you once more. Their hands on either side of you head on the mattress, holding their body over you. Their hair hung around you, a sort of barrier between you two and the outside world. All you saw was them. Their perfect face only a few feet from you. You want them to kiss you but they didn’t give you the opportunity to. 

You didn’t think it was possible but Bloodhound picked up the pace once again. Your head lolled back as they brutally slammed their cock into your sweet spot over and over again. 

“Touch yourself, Ástvinur.” They commanded and you obeyed immediately. Using your hand to pleasure yourself even more. You attempted to match Bloodhounds pace. Moving in sync with their thrusts. Watching intensely as they cock disappear inside you.

You were so close. Your orgasm builds up just before the breaking point. Your toes curled and your legs shook. Fireworks ready bursting from the back of your eyes. 

“Oh- oh god...Hhaooummmnng!”

“Cum for me Elskan! Cum for me, I love you so much Elskan. Please, cum for me!” 

With that your second orgasm came over you like a tidal wave. You let out a silent scream, your whole body shaking in Bloodhound’s arms. Bloodhound followed soon after. Thrusting into once more, planting their cock deep into you with a groan. Their seed fills you up, a satisfying hum escaping from your throat. You watched as they slowly pulled out of you. Their cock, now flaccid, had a small string of cum still connecting the both of you together. You cursed under your breath. Your legs twitched as semen dripped from your opening and onto the sheets. 

You laughed. “Not broken.”

Hound shook their head with a snort. “So it would seem.” 

Bloodhound’s arms were shaking, barely supporting themselves anymore. Once they found themselves more stable they moved to the side of the bed. Grabbed the rag that had been soaking in a cool bowl of water and rang it out. They proceeded to clean you up. Rubbing down from your neck to your thighs. Asking you if they missed any spots or if you still felt sticky. 

You shook your head, feeling sleep slowly start to take you. Bloodhound finished cleaning themself before returning to your side. Laying half of their body on top of yours, their nose deep into the hair near the back of your neck. Your fingertips ran aimlessly across their back, once and a while you would trail up their spine to their hairline. Messaging the scalps for a few moments then returning back to your previous task. 

Bloodhound’s voiced something but it was too muffled for you to understand. Your head tilted in their direction. “What?” 

They mumbled again but you still couldn’t hear any words. Ones you understood anyway. You giggled, moving to uncover their face from your neck, much to their dislike. “One more time please.” 

“Pykja vænt um, Elskan.” 

Your heart swelled at the phrase. You kissed their forehead, smiling brightly as they tucked themselves back into your neck. “I love you too.” *edited: fixed a the accidental change in pronoun. Thank you to that anon for catching it <3*

[concussed-to-pieces]

To Tell You The Truth Part Two

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Eventual Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Monday has finally come! I'm having a lot of fun writing this (even though this chapter is a bit shorter), and I hope it shows. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi

Part One

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains allusions to previous sexual and/or physical abuse. Stay safe!]

"Well," Ezra said some time later, his voice still a little raspy from performing his own interventions, "Damon may not have been overly intelligent, but the man was certainly resourceful." He tilted out from beneath the navigation console, carefully stripping free another lump of tape from the mess of wires. "He must have pawned off nearly every non-essential object under there. And a few that, regrettably, are." The older man squinted up at you, no doubt taking in the hopeless expression you were sure was on your face.

"So I'm stuck here." You breathed.

"Slow down a beat, gentle soul. We're not played out just yet. The Saders may have the bits or bobs we need. Or…" he trailed off, those dark eyes fixed contemplatively on a point above your shoulder. "Damon mentioned the Queen's Lair and those Karolclan mercs. I assume you are already aware of-" He stopped when you shook your head, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Damon talking about it with you was the first time I heard his plan." You confessed. "I had no idea that was why we were here, I just...I mean he told me we were digging of course, b-but I didn't realize it would be...like that." You finished awkwardly. 

"And why would you? Better to keep you in the dark, I suspect. Easier to maintain his grip if you don't know there's a secure payout." Ezra replied sourly. "It's bad business if Karolclan is involved. Them or those Krebine degenerates. No sane man would accept that job."

"Before you got him talking, I didn't even know that he used to have a family crew." You continued, not sure why you were still rattling on. Nerves, probably. "He never mentioned them."

"A man's sins can weigh heavy on him. I imagine he figured there was no harm in tellin' me a few of 'em, since he assumed he would be comin' out on top in our engagement." Ezra said dismissively, rolling the tape into a tight little ball. "That is interestin' though, that he would keep you so far in the black. No trust lost between partners." He cocked his head, fixing you with that thoughtful stare. "Though...I am beginning to suspect 'partner' is an incorrect moniker." He muttered, half to himself. 

The man gritted his teeth after a moment, wrapping a hand around his elbow and cradling his injured arm to his chest. The thrower wound on his bicep, though treated and sealed off, had continued to slowly ooze yellow fluid around the 'cream' foam. Through the tear in his thermal layer, you could see that the skin around the sealant had gone a sickly pink. 

"It would seem," Ezra began, sounding somewhat strained, "that I did not close the wound in time. I am afraid I may have to press our objective to trade with the Saders a little more insistently." He appeared to be making a concerted effort to keep his voice steady. "I apologize, gentle soul."

You had already started to empty the contents of your cumbersome exploration pack out, digging through the tattered pouches for your mending kit. "I'll patch your suit." Ezra gave you a blank look and you shook your kit at him impatiently. "We need to plug the hole in your exosuit. Any sort of loss of integrity is bad, especially if we have to tether. I can fix the rip."

He worked his jaw momentarily, the motion seeming like a bit of a tick. Hopefully it wasn't a leftover from when he had gotten acquainted with your head. "How long will that take?"

"Ten minutes, if that. I'll make it quick." You tapped the bulky chronometer on your wrist. 

After he nodded, you tugged gingerly at the sleeve of his half-peeled exosuit where it hung limp around his waist, donning your gloves before you attempted to wipe the sticky fluid off the thick fabric. Then, you flipped the sleeve inside out as best as you could, noting with a touch of dismay just how much pollen was already embedded in the seams. 

Undoing your patch pack, you quickly measured and snipped out a rectangular piece from the double-sided patch material. Your handheld stitcher buzzed wearily at the tough outer layer of his suit, semi-straight lines of faded khaki thread punching their way through to secure the lurid orange patch. 

"Look at you." Ezra murmured, his voice drawing you out of your focused work. "This is your comfort zone, isn't it?"

You ducked your head down to avoid his gaze, smoothing the rubber sealant backing over the inside of the stitching. "Done." You said quietly. 

He inserted his wounded arm back into the sleeve, dragging his fingers across the freshly-patched hole. "I daresay it's better than new, gentle soul! Much obliged for that, though I know it's not just for my benefit." The older man praised, making you flush. Damon had never thanked you. "With that, I suggest we gather your accoutrements and be on our way."

…

Ezra seemed to be in a worse state than he had originally let on. It might have just been the added stress of movement and drawing filtered air, but his staggering was starting to reach a concerning level. At this rate, he would trip over the tether line.

Your gaze trailed down to the inside of your helmet, resting on the gasket barely within your field of view. There was the lone chiclet of Brism gum that you had traded for so many stands ago, taped to the side of the lining. You lazily brought your eyes up again, realizing that Ezra had halted once more. If you took the stimulant-loaded gum, you might be able to…

To what? Overpower him? Outrun him? It wouldn't do you any good now, he was the one who knew where you were going. Better to continue to save the Brism for a real emergency. He had given his word, what little that counted for, and thus far, he hadn't proved himself to be a threat.

To anyone besides Damon, anyway. You recalled how Ezra's shoulders had slumped in defeat when Damon had pressed the pistol to his helmet and forced him to open his trophy case. Knowing how long he must have been here, how difficult it must have been to scrape together what he had found...

You cleared your throat. "Are you-"

"Gentle soul, for both of our sakes--it is best if you do not ask that question." He interrupted, the labored breathing in his helmet com threatening to deafen you. "I am doing my--damnedest not to dwell upon--the uncertainty of my current bodily quandary."

"How do you still manage to use so many words, even when it sounds like your saturation is garbage and you're pulling your air through a filter of mud?" You asked incredulously.

"I am a loquacious fool, gentle soul." He paused to wheeze, then continued on as if to prove his point, "My lighthearted inclination toward palavering has turned into a shortcoming of most grievous impact, given our circumstances." He gave you a curious glance. "I did not anticipate your scathin' query."

You gulped, realizing belatedly how sharp your words had been. "I-I'm sorry, I wasn't-"

"Calm yourself, gentle soul. I did not mean to imply that it was unwelcome." Ezra graced you with a quick, pained grin. "It has been a short eternity since I've had anyone to speak to, you must understand. My extensive vernacular has been languishin' in the rushes." He straightened back up, but continued to cradle his injured arm to his chest. "It's refreshing."

"What about your partner?"

Ezra shook his head at you. "Number Two was mute. Silent as the grave. Whizz at numbers though, could calculate the depth and breadth of just about anythin' if you had parchment to spare."

You hummed in understanding, his overly-wordy terminology suddenly making much more sense. He was used to filling in the silence. Ezra grunted, rubbing a tentative circle around the patch on his suit. "Should...should we put your arm in a sling?" You queried nervously.

"I am afraid it is a mite too late for that, gentle soul." He flexed the fingers on his right hand, swearing softly. "Martyr's malfeasance, that is seizin'. Can barely feel anything south of my elbow. You'd think that would be a blessing." He groused. "Whole thing tingles like a stranger's touch." Ezra looked up and then abruptly halted. "Ah, now here we have some promise." He said, sounding relieved. 

You followed his line of vision and froze when you spotted a black-clad figure in the distance, watching the two of you. 

"Don't move fast. We don't want to spook 'em." Ezra murmured, slowly raising his good arm to hail the individual. They crouched slightly, cautious. You could relate to that. Ezra waved at them, gloved fingers spread wide as if to display that his hand was empty.

The person darted off back into the underbrush after several tense seconds and you heaved out a sigh of relief. It was short-lived however, as Ezra started lumbering in the direction they had gone. "Where are you-"

"As Eurydice attempted to follow her beloved Orpheus out of the Stygian Abyss, so too we must follow our potential benefactor and have faith." Ezra looked back at you, smiling thinly. "Come, gentle soul. Departing the Green is naught but one more Herculean trial for us to conquer."

He held out his hand to you as if you were a small child. You narrowed your eyes at him and he chuckled, letting his arm drop once more. 

"I meant no disrespect. I assumed you needed assurance. You looked ready to take flight like a startled bird."

"I'm fine." You replied stiffly, "I just have the brains to not immediately trust strange people I stumble across in the Bakhroma Green." 

"I resemble that remark, gentle soul." Ezra pointed out quietly. "Yet here you are, tethered up. What does that say about your good sense and sensibilities, I wonder?"

"I'm very adept at ignoring warning signs when it suits me." You snapped before you could think better of it.

Ezra's harsh bark of laughter startled you, his smile weirdly genuine when he aimed it at you this time. "I must say, your changeable explosions of acrid ferocity are keepin' me on my toes!" He exclaimed. If you didn't know any better, you would say he sounded delighted. "You are wonderfully fiery when you forget to be timid, gentle soul."

You bit your lip nervously, uncertain if you ought to display concern over how amused he seemed to be. 

The large dome of his helmet bumped against yours. "You have gone pensive again, like our dear Sol when it hides behind roiling nimbus banks. Perhaps I am too prone to exposition to suit someone of your taciturn nature. Damon did not strike me as a man of many words." His tone was light, but his eyes were serious. You abruptly felt like you couldn't breathe as his body loomed over you.

"Too close." You managed to say, not ready to attempt to actually push him away. 

Confusion flickered across his face, then he seemed to realize that he was leaning his helmet on your own. "Oh! My most sincere apologies, gentle soul. Number Two was a sturdy individual. Afraid I'm overused to restin' a bit of weight where it doesn't belong." He took a large step back, holding his hands out as if to assuage your fears. "I-I meant no disrespect."

His stammer took you by surprise. On someone who seemed so self-assured, it was decidedly out of place. You chewed on your lip and then dared to ask, "What's wrong? You're all...worried."

He stilled, looking away from you and suddenly grimacing in pain. "I...I'm afraid my sands are runnin' low, gentle soul." He admitted quietly. "We have to keep movin', get the lead out."

He trudged forward and before you could reconsider, your hand shot out to grab his. You squeezed it briefly, and then released him. "It'll...it'll all be okay." You tried to assure him, smiling at him like he had at you.

Ezra's expression was unreadable, his heavy brows furrowed deep with thought. He didn't respond to you verbally, just shaking his head after a moment and continuing onward through the Green.

...

The leader of this particular group of Saders, a man named Oruf, welcomed the two of you graciously into his tent once you had stowed your weapons a safe distance away from his village. 

Even in the filtered tent, Ezra's wheezing grew more and more pronounced as the minutes passed. You were actually worried now, just how long had he been limping around with half-functional filtration?

"I was once a man like you, who came with a mind to strike aurelac." Oruf murmured. "But that man died down there in the Green." The other bedraggled inhabitants of the tent were eerily silent as Oruf spoke. He clearly commanded some lofty form of respect. "Born anew amongst friends, bonded into layers beyond the ability of the materialists to perceive." Oruf continued grandly. 

His eyes wandered to you as Ezra stifled another coughing fit, the Sader leader observing your every move with a calm boldness that had you on edge. 

"And now, our son will play for you." The boy, a sullen-looking child with hollow eyes who had been introduced as Fahr, obligingly accepted a strange instrument from his father.

Ezra, who had been almost doggedly focused on Oruf, jerked his eyes down to Fahr at the droning sound of the instrument, the prospector tilting his head to the side. Oruf continued to stare at you and you, in turn, continued to try and ignore the lingering fear currently chewing a hole through your stomach. You couldn't shake the sensation that something was very, very wrong.

There was a woman laying on a pallet off to the side of the main room, and you wondered whether she was ill. She hadn't so much as opened her eyes the entire time you had been there.

The music stopped abruptly and you snapped your gaze back to Oruf, but mercifully he had his eyes closed. 

"That was beautiful." Ezra complimented, his voice seeming deliberately soft. Fahr inclined his head and then got to his feet, retrieving a small tray with two cups on it. 

Ezra perked up visibly, accepting his cup with a nod of thanks. When you received yours though, you felt a bit queasy. The contents looked a little more...viscous than you would have anticipated. 

Ezra sipped from his tumbler far more cautiously than he had imbibed the coffee in the pod. "Juice." He informed you helpfully, no doubt noticing your less-than-thrilled expression. "S'good for you, cleanses the dust."

Another coughing fit rattled his chest and you wondered fearfully just how much dust was in your lungs. The so-called 'juice' felt like an oil slick in your mouth, slimy and wrong, but you gulped it down anyway.

"Thank you for your kindness." Ezra said hoarsely to Oruf as Fahr vanished behind the curtain to the tent's side room. "Now, as you can see, I have sustained a trauma to my shoulder and would much like to flush it with your magic juice." He paused, "and to keep straight, we would also be very interested in proper dressin' and uh, filter refreshers if you have them and can spare them." Ezra tapped the filter that hung slack from his purifier assembly. "In return for your gracious offering, we are prepared to compensate with generosity in equal measure." 

He indicated at the heavy pack you had left beside the tent doorway, filled to the brim with everything and anything from the pod that you hadn't needed (and a few things that you could justify living without).

The young boy emerged from the curtained-off room once again, this time toting a large canister of liquid and a tray of small boxes, balanced on top of one of those all-too-familiar white cases. Fahr carefully laid the items out on the ground in front of you and Ezra, then retreated to sit down beside Oruf. "Here is our offer." The Sader patriarch announced calmly.

Despite the proclaimed direness of his infected wound, you didn't miss the way Ezra skipped over everything that might have been remotely beneficial to him to head straight for the white case. Old habits die hard, you supposed. He shakily flipped up the latches and cracked the lid.

Nine healthy-sized aurelac gems were nestled in the protective foam, all clear shells and amber pearls. 

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Ezra said slowly, a tentative smile quirking his mouth as he glanced up at Oruf. 

"For your woman." Oruf elaborated from across the tent, gesturing down at the white case and then to you. 

The breath stuttered in your lungs. You could have sworn your very heartbeat stopped. Silence reigned in the cramped space as you stared at the Sader man. 

For your woman. 

He was bargaining with Ezra, offering all those supplies and aurelac, for you. You abruptly wanted to puke. In that moment, you wished desperately that you hadn't obeyed them when they demanded you and Ezra to leave your throwers far from their little village.

Ezra appeared just as stunned as you were, finally croaking out, "that is...that is a bold offer."

"It has been determined, but you cannot see because aurelac fills your eyes. It is inevitable all the same, that they will be reborn just like me." The Sader man leaned forward intently. "That is the reason why you were brought here. Not the aurelac."

"What…" Ezra swallowed hard, his voice grating roughly. "W-What do you need her for?"

"We lost our mother." Dread flooded your body anew as Oruf waved a hand towards the woman on the floor. Not sleeping, but dead, you realized. "And the rush past, it is time to rebuild." 

You were absolutely going to be sick. The juice in your stomach writhed queasily, threatening to make a reappearance. They wanted you...as a mother? 

"The Currents have felt our loss, and have pulled you here to reclaim the balance." The man continued relentlessly.

You shot Ezra a panicked look and noted with despair how dark his expression was. He worked his jaw unconsciously, popping it over and over. He was seriously considering this offer, you could see it plain as day on his face. After all, what were you to him? 

You were nothing, just like you had been to Damon. A convenient floater. Freighter scum. And to this man, trapped here for far too long, you were his ticket off the Green.

Hours upon hours spent docked in the clutches of various freighters merged together into a mangled, horrifying mass, each instance worse than the last as you tried futilely to shove them all back down.

"You're a floater, who the fuck would even care?" Damon hissed, unstrapping his flight suit and gesturing downwards with one sharp jut of his wrist. "I picked you up for one fucking reason, you understand?" 

You were going to be sick.

"Scream all you want, no one can hear you. This pussy is mine."

"No one else would help you. I'm the only one. Don't fucking forget that."

You pressed a hand to your mouth and bolted out the flap of the tent, barely remembering to shove your helmet back on as you went. They want a mother. 

No no no no no!

You knew in the back of your mind that it was foolish of you to run off on your own, but the idea of sitting there calmly while Ezra meted out your bodily worth in chunks of aurelac was impossible to consider. 

You heard footsteps pursuing you and as you turned your head to look, your boot caught on a small hummock. You fell to the ground hard, quickly rolling over onto your back before Fahr lunged to land on top of you. The boy held a large, curved knife to your throat but then he paused, glancing backwards. 

You could hear shouting from the tent. You quickly reached up while the child was distracted, tearing free his filter tube and then shoving him off your body. Free once more, you took off pell-mell back into the jungleous expanse. 

Damon's voice echoed in your ears as you fled to where the throwers were hidden.

"You're a floater, who the fuck would even care?"

Part Three

[rancoeur-the-unfortunate]

Pills (Chapter 9)

(1526 words!)

Dib was getting tired and getting Tak's stupid ship to give him the information he needed was getting him nowhere.

He tried hacking inside the ship but this wasn't one of Zim's drones. This tech was made by Tak. Its circuitry was completely different and it pissed Dib off.

"Come on tell me somethin'!" Dib banged his fists on the board.

"You didn't ask me anything." The ship spoke in Tak's robotic voice.

"Oh um, what can you tell me about Zim's medication?"

"...how do you know about that?"

"Answer my qeustion first."

"Fine. I can tell you why irkens take their 'medicine' if that's what you want to call it, I can tell you what's in the pills, and I can tell you why it's so imperative that Zim takes his medicine."

Dib sat there dumbfounded.

"W-wait wait Zim already told me why he takes them."

"No, he told you what the Tallest told him. Though I'm surprised he told YOU of all things, such a sensitive subject."

"Oh..."

"Now answer my question."

"Oh um, I found his medication in his base. My computer was able to analyze some of the key drugs but I wasn't able to figure out all of them. Zim says he doesn't know."

"That's cause the Tallest would never leak that kind of information to an Irken like Zim."

"So uh... can you tell me all those things?"

"Why should I?"

"Because you hate Zim?"

"Yeah, but I hate you too."

"Oh yeah."

Dib scratched behind his neck trying to think of something to offer the ship.

There was an audible sigh from the machine.

"You're horrible at this."

"Well, what would YOU suggest I do."

"Come up with a better deal."

"He could show you a video of Zim om withdrawl." Gaz appeared behind Dib without a sound.

Causing said older brother to jump three feet in the air.

"GAZ?!"

"Hmm," The machine contimplated.

"Deal." Dib stared at the ship in shock. Zim must have really pissed off Tak for her to hate him like this.

"Um ok... thanks?"

He looked to Gaz.

"Why did you help me?"

"I want a copy of the video."

"Deal."

Dib then turned to the ship with a wide grin on his face and a pen and paper in his hands.

"Alright go on."

"When Tallest Spork died a peice of the Irken slave died with him. Years the Irkens went with a Tallest and slowly they realized that they didn't need one. Some Irkens formed a rebellion against the Control Brains, fighting for the right to breed naturally, fighting for the right of the shorter Irkens, and so on so forth. A new Tallest had to be established and quickly. Do the Control Brains picked two of the Tallest Irkens from the most recent generation, Zim's generation. Two just incase another sudden death occurred. But even with established new leaders, the rebellion continued. So forth cane the idea for the 'medication'."

The ship went silent for a bit.

"It was easy, coming up with a cover reason for the Irkens of Irk to take the pills. There was a faked explosion in one of the factories causing the air of Irk to become unbreathable. A lie but a believable one. 'Take this harmless pill once every two weeks and you'll be able to breathe just fine'. However the sane couldn't be said for the Irkens OFF of Irken. Simple, tell them there was a spill of infected goo on the food rations sent to each Irken. Now that all of them are 'sick' they'll do anything to keep the supply of medicine coming. Even go back to their slave posts and forget fighting the Control Brains. Most don't even know what withdrawl is. They just think it's the illness killing them. Tak found out about this and stopped taking the pills. She only contiued to serve the Tallest because she couldn't look suspicious. After she was done with Zim was going to go after them."

Dib wrote as fast as he could getting just sbout every word down.

"So the medication is just drugged used to brainwash the Irkens? That's dark."

"Gets darker."

The machine asked for one of Zim's pills to which Dib grabbed from his room and gave to the computer to scan.

"-Pain relievers

-Stress Relievers

-Stimulants

-Antidepressants

-Antipsychotics

-gushfoam

-qut gutter

-ventive"

"What's gushfoam, qut gutter, and ventive?"

"Gushfoam is an activator as soon as it goes past the Irken's lips the pills kick in instantly. Qut gutter is a super addictive drug that comes from a foriegn speices and can be poisonous if taken in improper amounts. Ventive is what basically makes the Irkens a slave to the Tallests every wish. None of these ingredients are known to any Irken execpt the Tallest. Though I'm pretty sure the Control Brains probadly have them on some sort of cocktail and they don't even know it."

Dib nodded as he wrote down.

"But why is it so important that Zim takes his?"

"Zim... is by far, the most dangerous and destructive Irken to ever exsist. The Control Brains were never able to figure out why. His body seemed to just reject any kind of drug that could ease him down. Though it soaked up the ventive like a sponge. Zim would litteraly give his life for his Tallest but if he thinks theres a way fir the three of them to survive he'll take it. Zim isn't the Irken he used to be before the drugs. The Control Brains couldn't weaponize him, so they tried to suppress him. His drugs are so strong he doesn't even remember the Irken he used to be. How he used to act or feel. Bye went the old Zim, then came the new one. The new one was FAR more obedient and way less destructive of the Tallest property you thought Impending doom 1 was bad."

"Impending what?"

"Don't worry about it." The ship dismissed.

"Old Zim used to fight his Tallest at every turn and would actively plot against them. New Zim practically bent over for his Tallest. Old Zim put his blood and sweat into making a fool proof plan. New Zim couldn't even think straight long enough for him to register a good plan. Old Zim would spend write down his mistakes and build up from them. New Zim can't or downright refuses to acknowledge his past mistakes. Old Zim was the ultimate destroying machine. While New Zim is just a 'Kamikaze' waiting to happen. Old Zim was a fighter. New Zim is just a slave. I'm pretty sure they had to force feed him those first few pills. The only thing the two have in common is the fact they hate the idea that being small means you are inferior in their society."

Dib sat in silence was Zim really that smart before the drugs.

"Wait, how do you know so much about Zim before anyway?"

"When Tak had her first run in with Zim she decided to dig up as much dirt as possible. She found out that Zim was a brainwashed activist. At first, she wanted to save him. After the plan on Earth was never about revenge. She thought that if she could keep those pills from arriving she might be able to bring the old Zim back. But the Talkest had too many counter measures to compete with. In the end, she gave up and decided it would just be best to put Zim out of his misery but if course you saw how that turned out."

Dib nodded.

"So the Tallest make sure Zim takes the drugs in fear that he'll destroy them?"

"If Zim was the Zim he was before he could destroy whole galaxies. Though I seriously doubt that."

"What makes you say that?"

"That's because the old Zim was more focused on fixing Irk then actually carrying out the invading tasks he was set to do."

"Why didn't the Tallest just destroy him?"

"I think you already know the answer to that question."

Dib nodded.

"Well uh, thanks for the information ship!"

"Whatever. Get ne that video."

"I will."

And with that Dib crawled out of the cock pit and into his house. He sat at the table looking over his notes. He had... mixed feelings about the whole scenario.

Zim wasn't the sociopathic killing machine he thought he was. No, in fact he was a destructive activist trying to make his home a better place before he was shut up entirely.

Dib ran his hand through his hair. He was just like him. It was those pills that kept him here on Earth and not on Irk.

But Dib had those pills now, so Zim should go back to normal after some withdrawal.

But the Tallest would just supply him with some more, wouldn't they?

Well, maybe he could stop the delivery.

Wait he help the enemy?! That was insane.

But that 'old Zim' wasn't the enemy, 'new Zim' was.

So many thoughts ran through Zim's head at breakneck speeds.

He sighed and got up.

"I'll sleep on it."

[bakingthedetectives]

Chocolate Doughnuts For Lockwood And Co

'George had returned, carrying the tray on which he'd assembled a tea service I'd never before set eyes on. It was all fine-bone china and little pink flowers, the kind of mincing cups that are so delicate and brittle you expect them to shatter when you put them to your lips. This classy effect was slightly undermined by a teetering pile of fat jam doughnuts on a plate beside them'.

When I was young I had horrifying dreams on an almost nightly basis. When I look back they were all silly things, like the moon coming down from the sky to lurk outside my window. It seems ridiculous now but when you're 5 the moon being able to move really unsettles you. (Actually, I don't think we should just confine the fear of the moon moving towards us to when we're young, it really shouldn't be moving in that way at all, whatever age you are). Eventually I was taken to a doctor who said I was making it up, so we went to another doctor, and he told me to stop watching scary television shows, films, or reading scary books. I was 8 at this point...where was I getting access to scary films!? I wasn't, I wasn't involved in any frightening activity at all, apart from going to school but that isn't marketed as a scary activity. It is though. 

So anyway, the nightmare continued. I avoided all horror, shut myself away and suffered with insomnia for all of my early teens. Would you believe I accidentally watched The Wicker Man? Well, I did. I was at a sleepover at it happened to be on (by which I mean a small select group decided to wait until everyone else was asleep to gather round the tv. I wasn't one of those, but I was pretending to be asleep and watching it on my side). I loved it. I was obsessed with it. The psychology of it. The tragedy of it. And just like that the nightmares stopped. As it turns out...well, to quote Sherlock 'Your mind, it's so placid. Straightforward. Barely used.' Because I wasn't stimulating my imagination enough my brain decided to take over and all the little horrors came out at night. I wouldn't say I was the world's biggest horror fan, but a small dose of it now and again is enough to keep me sane! And this is the brilliant thing about the Lockwood and Co series. It is genuinely scary. The series falls into the 'young adult' category, but everyone would enjoy this. The difficult themes are dealt with honesty and wit. Children want honest stories, real people, and all of the characters are crafted so well you can really believe you're following a ghost-hunting agency in an alternative London. Lucy is clever and brave, George is a mother hen, and Lockwood is indeed dashing and scatty (it says so in the back of the book, but it's very true).

Finding a book that hands me everything I'm looking for on a plate brings me the greatest joy. 15 pages in comes the first mention of tea, soon after we've blossomed onto tea and biscuits. There's eggs and bacon and toast and cornflakes. There's jam sandwiches and ginger ale. And then there's the doughnuts.If you're going to be out battling ghosts all night I'd say doughnuts were the right amount of fortification needed the following morning. I was initially going to make blackberry and custard doughnuts, but as I was reading George decided to throw me off by talking about chocolate doughnuts. It's so rare that I make something specifically mentioned by the characters I felt I really must make more of an effort here. I went through chocolate dough, chocolate brownie mix, chocolate coatings, and then settled on an easy chocolate custard to go inside for a pure chocolate hit. They're thick and stodgy and I'm sure Lucy would say that rather describes George too. At the back of the book there's descriptions of all the different ghost entities. I think if I could be any I'd be a Gibbering Mist, they sound hilarious! What would you be? The only bread I am any good at baking is brioche. Anything with mounds of butter is a winner for me, so I've adapted my brioche loaf recipe to make doughnuts. I'm as surprised as you are that it worked! For the doughnuts: 375g strong white bread flour, or '00' grade flour 140ml warm water 45g caster sugar 7g dried yeast 3 large eggs 1/2 tsp vanilla extract pinch of sea salt 100g butter, softened Some caster sugar for rolling the doughnuts in cacao nibs (optional) for rolling the doughnuts in about 2l sunflower oil For the chocolate custard filling: 375ml milk 1 tsp vanilla extract/pure vanilla bean paste 110g mix of milk and dark chocolate1 tbsp cocoa powder 4 large egg yolks 200g caster sugar 60g plain flour ​1 tbsp cocoa powder 75ml double cream You will need a food thermometer, a heavy based saucepan and a piping bag. Put the warm water into a mixing bowl with all of the doughnut ingredients except for the butter. Mix for around 10 minutes in a mixer with a paddle beater (you can do this by hand but it'll take some welly). The dough will start to come away from the sides and look almost creamy smooth. Let the dough rest while you tear up pieces of butter. The butter should be soft enough for you to tear pieces off with your hands, but not so soft that it's melting and greasy. Start the mixer again on a medium speed and slowly add pieces of the butter and keep mixing until it's all been added. Mix on a high speed for around 5 minutes just to give the dough a good talking to. It should now be smooth and glossy. Cover the bowl with clingfilm and leave it to prove until it has doubled in size. Don't put it somewhere warm, just leave it where it is. It may take a while, mine actually never rises but I carry on regardless and it always works. Once it has proved, prod it a bit to knock it back, then put it in the fridge to chill overnight.   The next day, take out the dough and roll it into even sized pieces. I usually get around 16 at 45g each. Put them on floured baking trays, leaving plenty of space between them. Cover loosely with cling film and leave for around 4 hours to prove, or until doubled in size. Heat the oil in a fryer or heavy based saucepan, it should come to about halfway up the sides. Heat it to 180C. When the oil is heated and steady at that temperature, carefully slide in the dough balls, a few at a time. Fry for around 2 minutes on each side. Remove from the fryer and place them onto kitchen paper to drain. Carefully repeat the process until all of the dough has been used, then toss the doughnuts in sugar. Leave them to cool fully. Chop the chocolate into small pieces. In a large saucepan, heat the milk, vanilla, and milk powder on a medium-low heat. When it is steaming remove from the heat and add the chocolate. Leave it for a while to melt then use a whisk to stir it around. Put it back on the heat to warm through and thicken up, about 5 minutes. Leave to cool fully and thicken. To make the custard, heat the milk and vanilla in a saucepan on a medium heat until it comes to a gentle boil. Remove from the heat. Lightly whisk the egg yolks and sugar together, then sift in the flour and cocoa and mix well. Whisk some of the hot milk into the egg mixture and mix it all in, then slowly add more and more while whisking until it all comes together. Add the chocolate and stir together to melt it a bit. Put this all back on the heat and whisk until thick, about 5 minutes. If you feel the need you can pass it through a sieve to ensure there's no lumps but I've never bothered. Put it into a bowl or onto a lined tray and press the top with clingfilm to stop a skin forming and leave to cool fully. Whip the cream it to soft peaks and fold this through the custard and chill again to set it. When ready, fill a piping bag with the custard and pipe into the doughnuts by putting a small hole into the the pale ring round the centre. Pipe until the doughnuts feel full and provide resistance against the bag. Repeat with the remaining doughnuts and serve. These are best eaten on the day they are made, although if you wanted to keep them put the custard  in the fridge and keep the doughnuts in an airtight container, then fill them as you want to eat them.

Next time on Baking The Detectives...

'I've never done gardening. I don't know, what is gardening?' Braving some herring for Knut Angstrom. Use the social sharing buttons below to send this to the Detectives in your life.

[peacefulwriter88]

Breathless

Chris Evans x WoC, Chris Evans x PoC 

Warnings: 18+, language SMUT (sex, sex, smutty sex)

A/N: I’m such a thirsty ho for Chris is probably at unhealthy levels at this point. And I’ve been angsty af soooooo here ya go - sorry this took longer than planned to post! 

Also this is for my dear @ohlumi and @harleycativy and @xgminigypsy - you ladies know my Evans struggle and keep me sane! @erisjade for just being so inspirational and my lovely @starless-skyox because she is my heart 

“Just take a breathe.”

You were seething, seeing red, trying your hardest to not rage out in the elevator that was slowly taking you up to your destination as your best friends voice rang in your ear. There other person in the tight space, a younger gentleman who had gone from taking in your low cut dress with lust in his eyes to placing himself in the furthest corner of the shared box, picking up the angry vibes that were emanating off of you, stood with a smirk on his face. You were confident that he was enjoying your one-sided conversation with your friend Olivia but you were too heated to care.

You had a nasty temper, you knew that, it wasn’t foreign to you but you tried your hardest to keep it contained – to try not to overact when things went out of your way. Typically little things got under skin and you had learned to curb your temper – like when someone cut you off in traffic or your flight gets delayed after a long day of work and you’re forced to take a redeye or you stub your toe as you try to make it to bed. The problem was you were working too many late hours reviewing too many half written pages of educational policy that was only going to – no big surprise – continue to reinforce the rich and you wanted to be back in your L.A. home instead of the tight skyscrapers of New York but you had opted to work across the country, again, because you were really trying to make your relationship work.

Your relationship with one Christopher Robert Evans who had you seething you in the small box in an outfit you’d happily exchange for a pair of sweats as you watched too many mind numbing episodes of Parks and Rec on Netflix because fuck watching anything that was going to stimulate your brain more than you wanted at this point.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to rip his cock off his body and make him eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner tomorrow…”

The guy next to you flinches, his hand subconsciously going to cover your crotch and your best friend snickers as her British accent fills your ear again,

“First off, you can’t castrate Captain America.”

“Watch me.” You counter back and she sighs, “Secondly, is he really that big that you could feed him a three course meal over a period of time.”

Her voice is almost dreamily skeptical and you roll your eyes as you punch the floor number on the elevator again, the grip around your clutch tightening.

“I can do whatever I you want because once again, once again he’s left me waiting in a restaurant wondering where the hell he is and what I did wrong? I wore the stupid Dior gown he bought me, took time to really pamper myself and all of this is WASTED on a bottle of very expensive wine and the evidence of his castration.”

The elevator jingles, signaling your arrival and you give a relieved sigh as the guy next to you mumbles,

“…man whoever he is really fucked up.”

“I know!” you say to the guy as you storm out of the tight space, noting his small chuckle as Livia snickers,

“You have to calm down. You know he’s been working a lot.”

“He’s been working a lot? So am I. So it’s not the stage, so our jobs look different SO THE FUCK AM I. And I sacrifice and restructure a lot to make this work because I have the flexibility but he has to fucking meet me halfway. Like bloody showing up for the dinner he organized for us.”

“Y/N….” Livia’s voice is on a warning tone as you make it to his room, your hand balled in a fast as you slam it against the cool wood. Not caring that you might wake up half of the floor or the consequences of being so aggressive. You wait a few minutes and when you hear no stirring on the other side you knock even harder and faster.

This time you hear the loud bark of Dodger in response, hear the creature move from the door toward the back of the room, then back to the door, never stopping in his excitement to see what had woken him and his owner up. It’s only a minute later that the door opens, the room revealing a shaggy haired, topless Chris as he stands bleary eyed taking you in, trying to adjust to the juxtaposition of the bright light in the hallway.  

“We’re breaking up. I’m done.” You say indignantly, ignoring Livia yelling in your ear as you hang up on her and his eyes furrow together, trying to understand the situation. Dodger peeks behind his legs eagerly, taking you in as Chris asks,

“Wait – what?” his voice is gravelly in that way you love, fresh out of sleep and you try to ignore the way it draws butterflies to your stomach and causes you to clench your thighs together.

“We. Are. Through. I’m done with me and you and all of this bullshit. I will come by tomorrow to grab my stuff but fuck off Evans.”

Satisfied with your answer you turn on your heel, trying to think through the next step but you are stopped by a strong arm wrapping around your wrist. You know that it shouldn’t surprise you, the action, but you still can’t fight the look of rebuttal that pops on your face as you look down at the large, calloused hand around you before looking up into calm blue eyes trying to read you as he says,

“You can’t just knock on my door and dictate that we’re breaking up without….” his eyes takes in your sapphire gown, the way the material dances over your curves. Takes in the way you’ve straightened your hair and added some extensions to make the perfect chiffon, the diamond earrings he had purchased for you on your one year anniversary a few months back, the extra care you’ve taken with your makeup, wearing that shade of berry lipstick that got him stuck in lustful thoughts of you. It clicks, he realizes, the error in his way, you watch it unfold in those teddy bear eyes of his and you tug away from him, jaw set as you spit out,  

“I see you realize the source of this breakup.” Your eyes narrow and he gives a heavy sigh as he reaches for you again, this time lightly wrapping around you as he tries to pull you into his hotel room.  

“Y/N…let’s talk about this.”

You’re too upset, too embarrassed and ashamed and so angry to get stuck into being into a room with Chris and you naturally withdraw from him. Manipulative man that he could subconsciously be without even being aware that he was doing it, you didn’t want to forgive him. Not right now at least.

“No.” you say through gritted teeth and he sighs as his hold on you loosens and he drops his voice so its lower as he responds,

“Please Y/N. Just let me explain.”

You know he’d never force you into his room, that ultimately, he would respect your choice and half of you wants to cash in on that. The other part of you sighs, giving into his sad, puppy eyes so you give a slight nod and he easily ushers you into the room. You walk past him, chin jutted into the air as he shuts the door, turning around to watch you as you walk past Dodger who only perks enough to realize your in a mood, and takes the opportunity to retreat to bed in the bathroom, sensing the tension and not caring to be a witness.

“You have five minutes.” You say crisply, hands crossed tightly across your chest as you look down at the expansive city lights of Manhattan.

“Five minutes.”

He watches you in the reflection of the window in the low lighting, watches the way your jaw stays stubbornly set and despite the angry look on your face he can’t help but be consumed by how beautiful you looked. He had walked by the Dior gown for two months on the way to the theater and every time he did he had known it would look beautiful on you, that your full hips and ass and chest would fill the material in a way no Paris model could. He wanted to celebrate the end of the play, wanted to celebrate the end of the foiled mustache you had spent weeks teasing him about but most importantly he wanted to celebrate you – the patience you had as you both tried to continue to make your long-distance relationship work. Wanted to show you off and thank you for tolerating his crazy schedule, again, and instead he had he had fucked up. Big time.

“I had every intention of making it to dinner. I really did. I was just so exhausted after today’s last showing and after you had left here to check out of your room I thought I’d grab a quick nap. Woke up once to you dropping off your stuff and I heard you mention you were going to get ready at a friends and thought I’d sleep for one more hour but I didn’t think I’d sleep until,” he looks over at his bedside table and groans at the time. “…nine.”

He sees you close your eyes, sees the way your body shakes and fear clutches his heart. Outside of your intelligence, your witty humor, how you masked just how deeply you were a nerd, he loved more than anything that anger you had – the sass that wasn’t afraid to be honest and have compelling conversations and challenge the status quo.

He also knows the toll it was being with him had on you. You both were ambitious, your job just as demanding and yet you were intentional to see him during his peak busy time to ensure that you both could invest in the relationship, respected when he was off to sacrifice time with you and lately, lately he had been distant.

Distant because he realized he wanted a future with you and was afraid you didn’t want the same. It was ludacris of course, it was his anxiety and fear manifesting but it was where he was at. And now it was coming to light, once again, in the form of a fight.

“I can’t continue to do this Chris.”

Familiar words, words he was used to hearing in past relationships but was shocked to hear them come from your soft voice. You turn, the soft sound of your dress bristling pulling his attention and your eyes meet his, drinks him in.

“I love you Chris but you can’t……” you stop, debating your next words.

“You can’t tell me that you love me but continue to forget dinners or flights. To lavish me with gifts but pull away when I start having a conversation about a future together.”

The words are true, they sting him and he takes a cautious step toward you.

“I know.”

“Do you?” you ask softly and he nods his head as he moves closer to you.

“Then why do you continue to break my heart.” Your voice is a soft sob and he feels his resolve breaking, can’t help the burning of tears that dance against his eyes as he nears you. He places his hands softly on your shoulders as he looks down at you, brushing your face lightly,

“Because I don’t think I deserve love. Have made peace with the idea that isn’t the road for me. And you’re the only person that has continued to deal with pushing me away, that has me realizing maybe I’m wrong and that scares the shit out of me…”

It’s a reality he had learned a week earlier in therapy, wondering why he was suddenly so distant with you. It had only been a year and seven months but it was the longest, in his thirties, he had been a relationship. It scared him, the possibility of what that meant and he didn’t want to fall into his insecurities to ruin a future for you. Because you deserved it all and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to give it to you.

“Chris why would you think that?”

Your soft voice breaks him of his thoughts and his eyes snap back to you. You looking at him with concerned, worried eyes, your earlier rage temporarily passing like smoke in the wind. He sighs as you cup a side of his face, falling into your embrace, into the comforting way it feels to have your fingers run through the small gruff starting to grow on his cheek. Hating that somehow he has shifted your feelings to mask his own. That he had made this about him.

“I’m a hard person to love Y/N,” you give a knowing snort as he continues, “When you’re an actor you naturally become guarded. Stubborn. You have to. Trust is a luxury far to come by. In relationships, you have to learn to let that go and….I struggle with it. Thought I moved past it with you but here we are. Your standing in a beautiful gown because I stood you up because I don’t make enough time to rest to respect the time you have and I do it because I feel guilty having to drag you through a life where I have to share half of  myself with the public.”

He’s ranting, ashamed as thick wet tears fall down his face and you give a deep sigh, take in the way he shamefully turns to the side or the way his eyes drop away from you as you whisper out,

“I mean you’re right Evans. You don’t make it easy to love you. But I love you. Love everything about you. And for every selfish act, you’re always countering it with a selfless one. You’re not thinking about how you fly me out or put me up in nice spots, how you surprise me when you have down time or listen to me when I’m having an emotional break down at one in the morning despite what you are doing. I’m equally selfish, equally crazy but that’s why this thing works right.” He turns toward you and you give him a punch in his chest, knowing that the muscles on his pectorals didn’t register the hit.

“And you know how I feel about you making decisions for me. That’s not your place. You can’t tell me what best for my life. I know what’s best and right now, despite the fact I’m super tipsy on the $100 Sauv Blanc I charged to your card and I still want to punch you in your handsome, perfect face –  I still love you. Even if I’m still debating breaking up with you or not.”

Your tone is teasing, trying to mask the pain that still lives in your heart and he pulls you into his arms, wrapping you close to him. Inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume, the soft contrast of your dress to your skin, the way you breathe against him.

Love was a simple emotion. Pure, powerful and potent and yet like most humans he still didn’t know how to navigate it, didn’t understand how to master it. Over complicated something that was as easy as breathing.

“I love you so much.” He softly says, breath fanning over your hair and you squeeze around him tighter, pulling away far enough to look at him.

You both stare at each other, drink in the emotion that’s playing in the other’s eyes before Chris bends down, his lips grazing against your own, asking permission. Never been the kind of man that pushes you into something you don’t want, wanting your full consent because he honored you – respected you. It only takes you a millisecond before you’re pressing your lips against his own, wanting desperately to taste him, to stop using the words that could only go so far to capture how you both felt. No longer wanted to live in your anger and disappointment and insecurity as your hands slowly move up his exposed back, taking in the years of hardened muscles he had built up, causing him to shiver as he falls into you, his mouth holding you prisoner. Taking control as your hands meet behind his neck, drawing him closer to you as his hands find your ass, large hands gripping the fat and muscle drawing you closer to him and you can’t help the moan that escapes through your lips, quickly being swallowed by Chris’s tongue as your middle rubs against his erection.

“Got me all worked up...” He murmurs against your lips, moving his hands back up your side slowly as his hand latches the thin straps of your dress. He takes his time moving them over your shoulder, down your arms as you move with him out of the confining material, never once breaking the kiss. His tongue is lazy against your own, taking his time as his hands move you out of your gown, slightly brushing against your exposed breast and you groan as he releases the material, pulling back enough to watch it pool at your feet.

His eyes are heavy, hooded, betraying the desire that his erection was informing you as they press against the soft material of his briefs, and he groans as he drinks you in again.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, his hand cautiously running up your stomach, between your breast as he bites his lips, “God you’re so damn beautiful and for some reason you’re all mine.”

Despite the time you’ve been with Chris, you can’t help the way your cheeks heat and though your skin doesn’t betray your blushing you know the way you cast your eyes away from Chris betrays you. You don’t mean to bashful, normally aren’t around men when you were naked, but there was something about Chris – the way he always feels the need to worship you – that makes you reserved.

Chris knows this, knows that despite all the confidence you work through each day, for some reason you fall into yourself when he takes the time to drink in your form and smirks as his hands moves to your face, drawing your eyes back to his own.

“My shy, fierce lover.” He murmurs but before you can respond his lips are back on you, demanding as he moves you back to his bed, maneuvering you with ease before the back of your legs hit the soft cushion of mattress.

He’s desperate as he squeezes your ass again, drawing you closer to him and you can’t resist moving your hands down to the bands of his briefs, moving past the elastic material down to his crotch and he gives a loud groan as you cup his erect penis, the taut muscle throbbing as you give it a few tugs.

“Make it up to me baby, remind me why I always come begging back for more.”

Chris growls into your mouth, hands firmly gripping your hips before he’s turning you, drawing you close to you as his lips skim past your ears. His fingers dance across your body, leaves you shivering in their wake before one grips your right breast, cupping the soft tissue. The other moves down your torso, taking its time before it finds its treasure in the bands of your panties and he hesitates before he slowly tugs on the thin material, drawing it down your leg.

“You want me to fuck you sideways sweetheart?” he asks and you let out a moan, loud and unbashful as you give a soft nod. His right hand slowly starts to play with your nipple before his left is drawing back up your body, moving toward your center. It’s when he brushes against your clit that your head falls back on his chest, head slightly above where his heart is pounding loudly and he groans as his hand moves down through your folds, fingers brushing through with a slow easiness that has you silently yelping.

“Fuck baby, I love when you get all wet like this for me. Drives me fucking insane...”

His eyes are hooded, iris blown to dark oblivion as he watches you tremble as one of his fingers insert themselves into you and you yelp as he nibbles on your ear, hands moving faster.

“How do you want me baby?” he whispers in your ear and you keen as you arch into him. He chuckles as your ass rubs against his erection, his finger pulling away from your over sensitive nipples.

“I know how you want it.” He mumbles, pulling away from you enough that you whimper from the absence of his touch, cool air consuming the space that had been warm previously.

“Chris…”

He’s swift to push you forward in the bed, his hands lightly running down your spine as you move your face sideways as it falls into the cushion of the disturbed sheets, your breath hitched. He hisses as his hands splay over the intricate fabric of your panties, taking in the design before he gives it a firm slap.

“I’m going to ruin you. Going to make up for all the bullshit I always put you through.”

His fingers are quick as he pushes your panties down and the cool air is a stark contrast to the heat that’s been building in your center. His hand move slightly as you hear him step out of his brief, one hand firmly placed at the crevice of your hips while the other played with your entrance and you yelp, sticking your ass higher.

“Fuck baby…” he whispers before he slowly inserts himself into you and you shudder, moving your face into the mattress to mask the loud moan that slips out of you as he allows your slick to cover the taunt muscles. You can feel yourself already relaxing, feel the way your walls flutter around his cock and the low, guttural moan that erupts from Chris’ chest reverberates across your body.

“….feel so tight…”

It’s a slight whisper as he bottoms out in you, before he’s pulling out of you far enough that has your core aching for more, your walls fluttering in need before he’s slamming himself against you.

“Fuck!”

Your voice is loud as you arch up, your senses taking over as you shimmy your hips against his rhythm, taking in the way his other hand grips your love handles, squeezing them in appreciation as he thrusts into you. He loves you the most like this, when he can see the contrast of your skin with his creamier tone, blending in the best way like the other parts of your personalities. You bite your lip, relishing in the delicious feeling of being consumed by him – his husky scent, the low primal sounds of his moans, the feeling of his strong hands against your skin – and you start to shake your ass expertly, moving up and down his cock with expertise and he howls, bending over and resting his forehead against your back.

“Oh shit…”

Your name mingles with curses of appreciation and you give an appreciative moan as you take over, using his cock to pleasure all of you and his hands find yours, intertwining with them as you move faster, his hips finding your cadence as he thrusts into you harder.

“Oh sweetheart, you fucking drive me insane…”

The room feels with your musk, the delicious sound of skin on skin slapping and your voices as you move one of your hands from Chris, pulling away so that you can play with your clit and you shoot out a wanton moan as Chris lifts you up, pulling you close to his sweaty body as you pleasure yourself.

“That’s right baby. Play with that pretty pussy. I wanna feel you come undone around me…”

His breath is labored against your lips as he thrusts into you harder, erratically as his left hand digs into the flesh of your stomach. He knows he’ll leave bruises hell make sure to make up for later, but wants to mark you as his own again and he bites down on your shoulder and yelps as he feels your walls flutter against his throbbing cock.

“I love you Chris…” your voice is gripping, soft as you move your head to look up at him, your wide eyes drinking him in and he groans as he moves his mouth on top of your own, thrusting into you harder as your orgasm ripples through you. His tongue claims you as you moan into his mouth, body spasming out of control and he feels the tears fall down your face as he moves shakes against your own and he pulls away to press his forehead against your own.

“I love you so damn much Y/N.”

It barely comes out before his orgasm washes through him and his grip around you tightens as your name falls off his lips like a reverent prayer, his hips stuttering into you as his seed fills you and you give a grateful moan as you pull away from him, coaxing him through your orgasm, your voice weak and tired as you come down from the throes of your own.

When it’s over he pulls you down with him, both of you falling easily into the comfort of the mattress, his arm splayed over your middle as you both lay stomach first on the comforter. You watch him, watch the calm take over his body as a soft smile tugs against his lips, the content hum as his finger slowly traces his back.

“I love you, I love you, I love you….” he whispers, eyes closed and you place a soft kiss on his nose, nuzzling against him.

“Don’t think because you fucked me good I’m not still mad at you. I’m still breaking up with you tonight.” Despite your weariness your voice is light, teasing as pull yourself closer to him and he laughs, drawing you closer to him, bright blue eyes opening up with mischief.

“Only if it means more make up sex in the morning.”

Special Tags for @wellthirsted @itsthecomet @coffeebooksandfandom @squidneysbooty @sweetpeasqueen93 @shutupandbemyprince

SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE ELSE! 

[thorne93]

What Are We Gonna Do? (Part 14)

Prompt: Imagine that you’re Spencer Reid’s wife, and you get the news of his arrest in Mexico. But you’ve been keeping something from him and the team. How will it affect Spencer?

Word Count: 2990

Warnings: Language, violence, anger, drama, angst

Notes: This picks up right at the beginning of Season 12, episode 13. Spoilers from here till then. Thanks to my beta @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​

Tags: @ultrarebelheart @cocosierra94 @marvel-imagines-yes-please @demongodess @brooklhyn

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was nuts. Emily had explained all of the details on the plane to you all. Spence would be the one to go in, not JJ.

 “But Emily,” you started.

 “No, Y/N, I can do this,” Spence argued calmly.

 “Then we’re giving that bitch what she wants! This is so unstable! You aren’t instated, you're emotionally unstable...”

 “We aren’t changing the plan,” Emily snapped over the monitor. “Am I making myself clear?”

 You waited before responding. “Yes,” was all you could say before Emily hung up the call.

You still thought this was a bad idea though. You hated it. You didn’t want him anywhere near that psycho bitch.

 Finally, you were in the prison, Cat just on the other side of the one-way glass.

 Spence was fidgeting, nervous and worried. You stood in front of him and put your hands on either side of his face.

 “Hey, hey, look at me.” He opened his eyes and looked at you. “You have got this. You beat her once, you can do it again. JJ and I will be right here.”

 He said nothing but whipped away from you and went in, JJ and you right on his heels as the door closed. You were now in a room with the most sadistic bitch you’d ever met and it was taking everything in you to not choke her, slam her on the ground, shoot her in the face…

 “Spencie,” she cooed like a love-struck teenager and you flinched to lunge at her but JJ held your arm. “Oh, and you brought Y/N, this ought to be fun.”

 “Where’s my mom?” Spence demanded.

 “I missed you,” she noted, ignoring the question.

 You flinched again.

 “What did you and Lindsey do to her? How did you--?”  

 “Now stop,” Cat ordered and Spence obeyed, making you see all shades of red as JJ had her hands on your arms. “You don’t get to walk in here and hiss at me like I’m the criminal. Now, we do this my way.” She kicked the chair from under the table and he caught it and sat down.

 “How was prison? Did you like it?”

 “No.”

 You moved toward her and JJ pulled on you again. All you wanted to do was smash her smug fucking face on the table.

 “Oh, what’s wrong, wifey? Can’t take the thought of him being shanked or gang-banged in the shower?”

 “Rot in hell, you psycho bitch,” you spat.

 She laughed. “You should really muzzle your dog, Spencie. But I’ll get to her later.”

 You wanted to just kill her. Slow, painfully…

 Then she turned her attention back to Spence. “It’s not fun is it?”

 “Unlike you, I didn’t deserve to be in there.”

 “How did you stay sane?” she wondered as she leaned forward. “A brain like yours need stimulation in such  a gray place.”

 “I worked in the laundry room and played chess,” he informed, losing patience. Yours was already lost. You’d lost your patience at the door. It was a miracle Cat wasn’t bleeding out on the floor.

 “That’s 3, maybe 4, hours, tops.”

 “I read.”

 “That’s still not enough.”

 “Why do you care what he did to occupy his time?” you blurted out, angry.

 “If you don’t keep her quiet, mommy is dead,” Cat said, not looking away.

 “Y/N, don’t talk,” Spence ordered, his eyes not leaving her’s.

 You balked at him but didn’t say anything. Diana was on the line here.

 “You have to…go some place...Up here. Or else you’ll go crazy.” She sat back and asked, “Do you want to see where I go?”

 Your jaw clenched and you wanted to say, “No, but I’ll see you in Hell..” But you kept quiet.

 “I’ll show you. Come here.” She curled her fingers and your stomach did a flip. This wasn’t real, was it? Cat was psychotically nearly flirting with Spence...and you had to watch it unfold. He leaned forward without hesitation and you thought you’d throw up.

 She put her hand up and you said, “No touching.”

 “Close your eyes. Good. Now keep them shut. Sit back and relax. Now, when you open your eyes, I want you to look at me...like I’m the first woman you’ve seen after being in prison for three months.”

 Her eyes shot to yours and you felt like you could make her burst into flame right then and there.

 “You bitch,” you spat but she just smirked.

 “Now open.”

 He opened his eyes and looked at her...differently. “Hello, Cat,” he greeted as if she were you. As if she were his wife. You wanted to strangle him and kill her. What the fuck kind of sick god damn game was this?

 She laughed and said, “You’re here! You’re really here!”

 You thought, “I’m about to be there too, you horrendous bitch.”

 “There’s no where else I would rather be,” he said sweetly back.

 “You’re good at this. You’re so good at this. I almost believe you don't’ want to kill me.”

 “I don’t want to kill you,” Spence said simply.

 “I do,” you scoffed internally. Spence wasn’t that type of person, but you were. You never minded putting the monsters down. It took a lot of restraint sometimes, like now. Now was especially fucking hard to not just put 1 right between her fugly eyes.

 “No?” Cat questioned. “What if I let your mother die? Then would you kill me? Or would you just hurt me? Would you pin me down and leave bruises that don’t go away?”

 She was being seductive. Oh god. You were going to throw the fuck up.

 “Is that what you want?” Spence asked.

 “I want you to do things with me you’d never dream of doing to your wife,” Cat answered slyly. “I just want to know if you would...if you could,” she said.

 “No.”

 “No?”

 “It’s not the kind of man I am.”

 Cat made a face and said, “Do me a favor and tell blondie and wifey to step aside because we’re going to play another game and this time we’re going to find out exactly what kind of man you are.”

 JJ turned slowly, tugging you with her but you fought against her. Finally, she pushed you out and closed the door.

 “Are you insane?” she demanded. “You almost got Diana killed in there.”

 “JJ, not fucking now,” you warned. “Imagine if that was Will in there, huh? Would you be okay with him pretending to play footsie? Huh?” you pressed, getting in her face.

 “Look, I know this situation sucks but you’ve got to play by her rules or we’ll lose him. If Diana dies because you couldn’t keep your cool, I don’t know if Spence could forgive that.”

 You took a deep breath and sighed. “Fine. Fuck it.”

 You stood behind the glass, ready to break something. Maybe Cat’s face.

 “Let’s play,” Spence said.

 “Let’s!” she responded excitedly. “Are you hungry?”

 “No.”

 “Me neither.”

 “So the same game as last time? I answer every question you ask honestly?”

 “No, this time you get to ask the questions.”

 “What is she getting at?” you asked JJ.

 “I don’t know,” she answered, shaking her head.

 “About what?” Spence asked.

 “Well, I know a secret about you and you can ask me as many questions as you like to figure it out. But you only get one guess as to what it is. Now, guess correctly, I take your phone, I call our friend Lindsey and I tell her to release your mother, unharmed. If you don’t…” She made a gun with her two fingers and pretended to pull the trigger then laughed, like a god damn idiot. God you hated her so much.

 “Is there a clock?” he asked.

 “There’s always a clock. Give it to me,” she ordered, holding her hand out. He complied and took off the watch you’d given him for your first wedding anniversary. The pang that went through your heart was too hard to ignore and you made a small whimper come out. JJ eyed you and rubbed your back gently as that horrendous whoring bitch put Spence’s watch on. “Now, you’ll have four hours. Not yet. You have to wait until the second hand comes around.”

 “JJ, I can’t fucking do this,” you said, spinning around and holding your stomach.

 “Yes, you can.”

 “No,” you shook your head.

 “Well, I have to focus on Cat...Do you think you can pull yourself together? Because if not, I can’t watch you and her.”

 “I’m fine…” You ran off to the bathroom to throw up some of your bodily fluid since you hadn’t eaten in three days. You stood up and screamed in the empty bathroom, letting your emotions out. You hit the stall wall with your fist repeatedly. You wanted this hell to be over. Finally, you rinsed your mouth out and came back. “What did I miss?”

 “Cat said it was a secret he would never admit to,” she informed.

 “Great,” you muttered, your arms crossing.

 “Go,” Cat instructed.

 “I know what the secret is,” Spence said.

 “You do?” Cat asked.

 “Why else would you put me through all this?”

 “Ooh, paraphrasing in the form of a question, that way it doesn’t count as a guess. Very smart, doctor,” Cat said.

 “I’m going to walk you through a scenario, and your face is going to tell me how close I am,” Spence informed. Meanwhile, you were sweating bullets. He could not fuck this up. He had to be on his A-Game and you weren’t sure he was. “From the moment I arrested you, you watched and waited for the right time to take your revenge. When you learned I was going to Mexico, you took it. You and Lindsey framed me for murder, so I’d be put in prison and treated like a criminal. And then you kidnapped my mother, so I would know how it feels to have a parent manipulated, because you want to prove that you and I are the same. Am I right?”

 Cat yawned dramatically. “Sorry, I couldn’t hold that in any longer. What were you saying?”

 “Psychopaths get bored easily.”

 “You’re right. Let’s speed this up shall we? Why don’t we talk about all the pain you’ve suffered in your life. What would I like to capitalize on, do you think? Is it the death of your mentor SSA Jason Gideon?”

 You tensed before moving closer to the window, your face igniting in a fury.

 “JJ,” you said, warning her if she didn’t fucking stop, you’d make her stop.

 “No, because we caught the man who killed him.”

 “What about Agent Morgan? And your guilt over not visiting his little boy.”

 “I was in prison,” Spence remarked.

 “Yeah but you had time before that,” Cat noted. “Why didn’t you go?”

 “Truthfully, I got distracted. I was trying to figure out a way to help my mom. She didn’t have time. Morgan, Savannah, and little Bobby did.”

 “Bobby?” you questioned as you turned to JJ. Why did he get the name wrong? More importantly...why didn’t Cat correct him?

 “So there’s absolutely no shame in admitting that,” Spence added. “Morgan would understand that.”

 “I agree,” Cat said quietly. “That’s why that’s not the secret.”

 Spence looked back at you two.

 “JJ, call the office. Now.”

 She obliged.

 “Go ahead you two,” Emily said.

 “So Cat has a deep background on Spence. She knew about Gideon, Morgan leaving, but when Spence gave the wrong name of Morgan’s baby, she didn’t correct him,” you informed.

 Emily expounded on the idea and they began to dig. You came back to Spence and Cat conversing and he suddenly said, “So what is left that I wouldn’t want to admit to?” A moment of quiet grew between them before he answered his own question, “Love.” He leaned forward. “Is that what this is all about, love?”

 A pit grew in your stomach. What did he have to admit that regarded love? Maybe you didn’t want to be here for this.

 “JJ,” you said, panic rising in your voice as you took her hand.

 “Or my mother?” he continued as he stared at her. “No, for you. You want me to admit that I am actually in love with you.”

 Your knees felt weak. What...the...ever...loving..fuck...was happening?!

 “What the fuck did he just say?!” you demanded, screaming. JJ wrapped her arms around you to calm you, because you were going mad. You were thrown into a fit of rage.

 “No! Hey! He’s just playing her little game. Don’t fall for this.”

 “Don’t get me wrong, I love my fairy tales, clearly as much as the next girl, but I’m not delusional.”

 “Are you sure about that?” Spence questioned and you finally calmed down enough that JJ would let you go.

 “Very sure. So sure, in fact that I had Lindsey leave a little clue for you in your scrapbook in your house. I couldn’t have you come all the way down here and make a guess until I was positive. That is, until I tested positive.” She looked down at her stomach and gripped it.

 “What, you’re pregnant?” Spence asked, wondering what this had to do with anything.

 “We’re pregnant,” she corrected. “Maybe Y/N and I will have twinsies,” she said.

 “JJ, what...what is she talking about?” you demanded in a calm voice but you felt a cold sensation wash over you then a hot one. “JJ, what the FUCK is she talking about?!” you commanded in a much louder tone. Your heart was racing. This had to be a sick fucking joke, or her and Spencer were about to be fucking dead.

 “No,” Spence said, shaking his head.

 “Oh, yes,” she argued, clearly happy as she looked to where you would be standing behind the glass. “He really has some good swimmers, huh, Y/N?” she questioned and you slammed your hand on the glass, a murderous rage coming over you.

 JJ tried to calm you down but you just whirled and looked at her.

 “Let’s make sure it’s even real, Y/N.”

 You tried to calm yourself, and finally, you were able to. “Fine. Get the bitch’s file.”

 JJ requested a guard to bring her medical record.

 “It’s not possible,” Spence said. “Even if you are pregnant, the baby’s not mine.”

 “Except for the part where it is,’ she argued

 “That’s completely preposterous. You’ve been in prison.”

 “So have you.”

 “And we’ve never--”

 “Oh, I know we didn’t consummate it the way you normally would,” she said, glancing back to the one-way glass.

 “I’m going to fucking kill her,” you said out loud.

 “Y/N,” JJ warned.

 “No, fuck you, JJ. This is fucking bullshit!” you shouted at her.

 “Focus!” she ordered. “This is just giving into her. Okay?”

 You took a deep breath and refocused.

“Ask me how I did it. Come on, ask me,” Cat requested.

 “How did you do it?” he asked.

 “I had Lindsey dose you in Mexico. You lost time and I gave her very specific instructions to get you in the mood,” Cat said.

 Your jaw dropped as tears came to your eyes. This wasn’t fucking happening. How could this be any more of a fucking nightmare.

 “What? Did she pretend to be you?” Spence challenged.

 “Why? Would that have worked?” Cat asked.

 “No.”

 “Yeah, I know. I know. Believe me, I know exactly where I stand on the Spencer Reid hot or not list. I don’t stand a chance against your wife.”

 “In more than one way, you fucking cunt,” you spat and JJ gave you a shocked look.

 “I told her to pretend to be Y/N,” she said matter of factly and the wind was pushed out of you. “The love of your life, the mother of your child, well...one of the mother’s…” She smirked.

 “This can’t be real,” you breathed, horrified.

 “It didn’t happen,” Spencer denied right as the guard came back with the file.

 JJ looked at it and her sympathetic eyes shot to yours as she slowly shook her head. You yanked the file from her hand and saw where it had pregnant as checked marked...and she was three months along like you. Your vision filled with white and red.

 Cat was talking but you couldn’t hear the words. Spence got up and came out of the room.

 “What is this?!” you demanded as your husband came toward you. “What the fuck is this? Huh!?” You threw the folder at him with all your strength. “Explain that!”

 “Y/N,” JJ started but the look out of your eyes told her to keep back.

 “It’s three months, Spencer, same as our child! What the fuck is that?”

 “I don’t know,” he said quietly then he repeated it. “I don’t know!” he shouted, throwing the folder at the window. “I’m sorry,” Spencer said after he threw it, trying to calm himself down.

 “You’re sorry?!” you shrieked. “She’s going to have your child? I’m supposed to have it, not her. How could you let her do that to you?” Angry tears were streaking your face as he came toward you to comfort you. “No! Don’t fucking touch me, Spencer Reid. Don’t!” He stopped and looked at you sorrowfully. Thinking back on it, you were probably more angry about the event than at Spence. He couldn’t help what happened to him, he was date raped. But you were so angry, so hurt, and you felt so violated for him, you didn’t know how or where to direct your anger.

 “I was drugged, Y/N. I don’t remember any of this. It’s not like I willingly impregnated that psychopath. I love you. Please don’t let her mind games get between us.”

 You stared at him a moment before saying, “You just need to find Diana. We’ll deal with this afterward.”

[onlymorelove]

How do you get the inspiration to begin a story, and how do you get the motivation to complete it?

Um, apologies in advance, but this got long. Peer beneath the cut if you want.

Good morning, Nonny. :) Thank you for the ask.

How do I get the inspiration to begin a story?

My inspiration for starting any story is tangled up in the reasons why I write:

1. I write because it’s fun. I enjoy it. It rarely feels easy, but I love, love, love words, and playing with them is just plain pleasurable. The rhythms of certain sentences, a unique snippet of description, a snatch of dialogue that sounds just right… GAH. I love words and writing :)

One of the most recent fics I wrote, some words build houses in your throat, grew out of three things: 

a. A poem by Nayyirah Waheed. When I decide I’m going to write, I often read somebody else’s work before I try to put down some of my own words. Reminding myself how words can look helps me.

b. A Tony Stark Bingo square for “missing scene” that I wanted to fill. 

c. An anonymous prompt that requested SteveTony + confession. 

Anyway, I looked at all that stuff. So when I started that story, I knew I wanted to write Avengers fanfic that related to those three things, but I had no specific plot or dialogue or destination in mind. Then I reread that poem, and because brains are funny and like to make all kinds of associations when given just a bit of input or stimulation, I started thinking about Avengers: Endgame and things Tony might have wanted or needed to confess but didn’t actually confess in the movie. I knew pretty quickly what I wanted Tony to confess to Steve, but I didn’t want to start off with that. Then Natasha popped into my head, and I started thinking about her and Tony’s relationship. I put down some words and then put down some more before I realized where it was I was trying to go. Very little of what is actually in that story was stuff I consciously thought about until I started typing. 

By the time I got to writing the part with Tony and Steve, I had decided that I wanted to address, in some tiny way, the fact that Steve’s Irish, and his parents emigrated from Ireland to the U.S. Also, my DH and I talk a fair amount about how blatantly racist the Trump administration’s policies are…Anyway, stories are like icebergs: you’ve got the actual text that you see on the surface, and you’ve got all the other research, subtext, and author-brain detritus that’s submerged in the (dark) water beneath. ;)

Brains like to make associations or react to things; give a brain some input in the form of a word prompt, dialogue prompt, a photograph, song lyrics, a melody, someone else’s fic or novel, a smell, or a random fact on the back of a cereal box, and that brain will travel somewhere. Not all those journeys will take you somewhere that ends up being a good story, of course. Not all my writing can be traced to a direct trigger, of course, but prompts and triggers definitely help my brain start going somewhere if I don’t already have a specific idea I’m working toward. If you want suggestions for prompt sites, books, and so on, just let me know. Happy to share. 

Asking “What if?” also helps. What if this character made one different choice? What if this character said this instead of that? What if this character lived instead of died?

2. From Maria Taylor’s “Time Lapse Lifeline,” which is a great song:

“Oh we dreamed a life

It was just like that, was just like that

And just like that, and just like that it’s done”

From the moment we take our first breaths, we are dying. None of us will make it out of this alive. I say this not to be morbid but because it’s true. In 2018, I lost my father and brother in a span of less than five months. For months afterward, I couldn’t write. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. It was a terrible feeling. But I kept trying because I start to feel itchy and grouchy if I go too long without doing it. And yes, there have been huge chunks of time when I haven’t written much at all. But experience has taught me that writing helps keep me functional and mentally healthy. Different people process life in different ways. Some people talk a lot with friends or family. Some people draw. But we all do something with the things we see and experience. For me, some of that processing is done through writing. 

So I write as an act of living because I am dying, and I don’t know when my time will be up.

3. More song lyrics for you because I’m annoying like that. From The Smashing Pumpkins’ “Bullet With Butterfly Wings”: 

“The world is a vampire, sent to drain

…

Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage”Life is beautiful, but let’s face it, it’s also fucking hard, and while the systems we are parts of may differ depending on the country, etc., to some extent we are all rats in a cage or cogs in someone else’s machine. Oh, there are so many things we HAVE to do. The system(s) want us to sit down, shut up, go to school, work, pay taxes, sometimes raise kids, and so on. 

Well, I do or have done many of those things, but I don’t want to shut up. The sheer act of writing, of creating anything, is both an act of hope and subversion. 

So I write to rebel, just a little. 

3. Western canon, at least, is filled with straight white men’s voices. My fic is just fic; it’s not Great Literature ™, but I’m not straight, I’m not white, and I’m not a man. Still, I want to take up space in the world, too, damn it. Writing is one way I do that. 

How do I get the motivation to complete a story?

Well, I have tons of unfinished stories. Many of them I will finish, but there are a bunch that have been sitting there for years, incomplete, and will remain that way. :) The ones I’ve finished thus far I’ve finished through sheer force of will. That’s it. I made it like work: I not only want to finish this story, I have to. Also, I want to get better at writing, and the main way to get better at something is to do it over and over again. By “better,” I mean that I want to improve at writing stories that entertain myself and anyone else who happens to read them, and that also illustrate SOMETHING about what it means to be human.

(I have read more “how to write” books and articles than any sane person should read, and the main thing I’ve learned is that they keep me from actually writing.) So I tell myself that with every piece of writing I complete, I’m learning something, however small, even though every time I finish something, I’m convinced that I’ll never be able to write anything else—or at least anything else that’s “good.” The longer I go without writing, though, the harder it feels to restart, so I do my best not to stray for too long, or else I pay for it. 

My personal solution? Less focus on writing “good” stories or poems and more focus on doing the work—just continuing to write—and trusting that in the process, the writing will improve, even if it’s not by much.

This video sums up what I mean, and it’s had a meaningful impact on my writing philosophy, hell on my life philosophy. Finished, not perfect. 

The act of creating something, whether it’s a story or a painting, can bring up all kinds of anxiety. What works for me may not work for you, but it helps me a lot to acknowledge that I’m anxious but I’m going to keep pushing anyway. What’s my other choice? Stop writing and then later ask myself why I stopped? The years will pass and eventually I’ll be dead; why not accept the doubts and anxiety and take some risks in the meantime?I hope I haven’t overwhelmed you; I’ve tried to be honest and specific. If you want to chat some more, please send me another ask or DM me. I wish you luck with all your creative endeavors. If you want to make something, just BEGIN somewhere. Getting started is often the hardest part.

[shiroe-is-my-baby]

Losing Self-Control

Summary: Living together has it’s plenty of distractions

W: self-insert, au, fluff

My fingers tapped away at the keys on my laptop, while I sipped on a cup of coffee every so often. It was a little too late in the evening to be drinking coffee, but I find it stimulating when I drink it while I'm working. I had a major deadline next week, and I wasn't halfway done with my last few chapters. The anxiety of meeting my deadline, plus frustrations of losing my inspiration, I was a fumbling mess. Caffeine was one way that I kept myself sane enough for work. That, and the affections of my lover, who was currently in the shower.

Clicking my tongue, I sat down the mug onto the coffee table and adjusted my computer that sat in my lap. In a little while, I would need to take a break. From my count, I had been sitting at this laptop for hours. My eyes were starting to sting from staring at the bright screen for too long. Shiroe always complains when I do this, even though he has a habit of doing the same thing. When he's working too hard, sometimes I like to tease him with kisses and my soft touch. Although, I don't get much of that when I'm working. Shiroe knows better than to bother me when I'm on a deadline.

A coffee scented sigh escaped my lips, my eyes skimming the screen for any errors that I may have missed while I wrote my thoughts down. As I lost myself in the words, I didn't notice the man that had started to emerge from the bedroom and passed me to the kitchen. "No, no," I mumbled under my breath, "That doesn't work. Damn it. I'm going to have to rewrite this whole chapter." I continued to huff and puff under my breath, cursing myself for the added stress to my afternoon. It isn't often that I have to edit such huge chunks when I'm nearly done with my book, but this time I was struggling with my ideas. Things were becoming twisted, and the ending became harder to finish than I thought. In my past works, the beginning was always harder to start than the end. I usually had it all figured out, but not this time.

I was going to have to take a break before my brain exploded.

Just as that thought crossed my mind, I tore my eyes away from my computer screen to see Shiroe wandering in and muttering something under his breath. Raising an eyebrow, my eyes trailed over him, initially curious to what he was doing. Then, I realized he was only wearing a towel, water dripping from his hair and down his bare back and chest. My tongue grazed my teeth, and I quickly sat my computer on the table in front of me, unable to focus on my work.

"What's up, babe?" I asked, pushing myself off of the couch.

"Have you seen my glasses?" Shiroe asked, which made me chuckle a bit.

"It wasn't on the nightstand? Or maybe on the sink in the bathroom?"

The man narrowed his eyes at me, hearing the sarcasm in my voice. But it was too easy, especially since this wasn't the first time we've had this similar discussion. It seems to always be after a shower or the first thing in the morning. "If they were there I wouldn't be in this predicament," He mumbled.

"So it seems."

I breathed a sigh, my eyes trailing down his form once again. I wouldn't mind to see him like this more often. It was only recently that we moved in together and have been able to see each other in a more intimate way. This being one of those things. Hopefully, Shiroe wouldn't see the fire in my eyes when I was looking at him. He wasn't completely blind without his glasses, but I like to imagine that some things could be easily unnoticed. Shiroe also has a way of seeming very sexy without them.

But, aside from that, just being able to see him like this, in general, was nice. Skimming my eyes down to his hips, where the towel sat loosely. Very nice. I had been distracted by my thoughts that I didn't hear him say my name. "Are you just going to stand there?" He asked, irritated, "Or will you help me look?" My eyes snapped up, and I saw the irritation on his face. But all it did was make me want him more.

"Not yet. You won't need 'em."

He furrowed his brows, opening his mouth to comment on my strange behavior. But I wasn't going to allow him to speak another word. Reaching up, I placed a small kiss on his lips, my hands grasping his shoulders roughly. I let my actions speak for themselves, showing my hunger for him with every kiss. Instead of fighting me off like I expected, his hand grasped my neck and held me closer against him. A hum escaped my lips as they parted, our tongues meeting in the middle. Shivers ran up my spine, and I shuddered at the thought of what this could turn into.

"What brought this on?" Shiroe asked when we parted for breath.

"You just look too delicious to pass up."

He chuckled, pulling me into another kiss. The two of us couldn't even wait to transfer into the other room. This afternoon was just what I needed to calm my nerves. Shiroe's touch relaxed me, and gave me a moment to ease my burdens. With my job, it's very easy to get in way over my head. It's nice to have someone who can make my heart pound and cause me to lose all of my self-control. Losing my mind is one way for me to gain more inspiration.

Giggles escaped my lips as I felt lips traveling down my jawline. We both laid on the couch, exhausted from earlier events. Shiroe kissed my cheek, his fingers gently brushing the small of my back. "Looks like you and I will need another shower," I laughed. Shiroe nodded, rolling his eyes with a small smile. Nuzzling into his neck, I breathed a soft sigh, enjoying the feeling of his skin against my own. While the two of us continued to lie there, I began to think about my work and wondering if I would be able to finish up sometime tonight.

My eyes skimmed the room, listening to the soft sound of Shiroe's breathing. It was a quiet moment, one that I could probably fall asleep to. A nap sounding good right about now. I thought to myself about whether or not I would, when I saw a glint of something from the side table near the edge of the couch at our feet. Lifting my head, I tried to get a closer look at the object. I rolled my eyes, feeling the man shifting beside me. I leaned forward and grasped the pair of glasses from the table, turning to Shiroe with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

"Well, well, look what I found. Right in front of our eyes. Looks like you owe me an apology."

Shiroe grumbled, snatching them from my hands and falling back with a groan. Chuckling softly, I took them from him and slid them onto his face, poking his nose with my index finger. "Good as new," I said. Then, I pressed a kiss to his forehead. Not trying to patronize him, but just tease him a little bit. After all, he did miss something that was in one of the spots that I asked him to look. It was his fault for making me feel stupid. He knows that it never ends well for him.

Before I could stand up to grab my laptop, I felt a hand grasp my side and quickly yank me back. I yelped, narrowing my eyes as Shiroe stared back at me with a teasing grin. His arms wrapped around me, keeping me still and close. I was unable to move away, which I wasn't complaining about. "You can write later," He said, "I'm not letting go of you just yet." Breathing a sigh, I felt my cheeks darken. But I allowed him to hold me tighter, not wanting to go anywhere. The book could wait. That was one thing that I could control.